~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colombes de l'amour -- Doves of Love
oh my love you puzzle me
let us meet then in a coffee house
in a back street
in a dim lit little room
@>-->>-------
one cup of latte, please!
his eyes do not leave hers
hold her gaze
a soft burning cameo
now talk with smiling eyes
and silly philosophies of love
and the like
talk of general nothing
where the heart speaks more
than the moving lips in motion say
then tell me of the cutest little vase
you found in the market today ...
holding lotus flowers I suppose?
sssshhhh
no oriental cliches -
when a man meets in a coffee house
and sits across the table
he knows the talk will be of nothing
and the pauses between the speech
everything
she smiles
no she says I want to tell you
of the soft eyes
of the ancient birds
I want to tell you how I coo my love
through the windows in their eyes
tell me what you wish
and move me as I listen
he whispers tenderly
I want to tell you how I coo into their eyes
she pleadingly repeats
and stroke their feathers with my love
she crosses her feet
and lifts her chin from her palm
to talk about the birds
he listens, with a slightly tilted head -
past the wing span beating of the ancient birds
he listens to her heart
did you find one in the market place today my love?
I was nurturing them with my voice
she says, ignoring his question
I asked them:
did anyone ever touch you and speak to you;
a human with the voice of a bird?
they looked at me patiently with soft wide eyes
filled
with the Love of God
she drifts off into her secret memories
closing her intimate chambers
with transparent eyelids
and? he prompts, closing his eyes too
... and they answered me with syllabic silence
that flooded my eyes
with the salty showers of desert mountains
oh! she suddenly exclaims
how I longed to be filled with that love
so that I may rise and fly
his eyes open with interest
are you not filled with that love?
he asks
no, she answers
I am filled with sorrow
sometimes it showers joy
and the sweetness of the heart is exposed
briefly
why are you filled with sorrow
when I am here
he asks but she sadly looks at him
whilst caravans of centuries
travel over the desert of her mind
listen Love
he continues
sorrow too is a bird
it sometimes lumbers around on grey wings
blocking out the sun
I am filled with sorrow because my heart
is pulsating outside my body
unfeathered and cold
like a dying wet bird
the vultures will peck my soul from my eyes
if I do not cover their shimmerings
with the shadows of sadness
ssshhh
he comforts
tenderly draping his velvet voice
around her vulnerability
oh Love
she moans softly, leaning towards him
touching his fiery eyes with the fever of her own
I need the cover of your Love
to protect me from the claws of vultures
he smiles ruefully
I am but a slight quivering in your hands
an invisible transparency radiating warmth
diffusing into your being
please seal my soul
within the loft of your Love!
she begs
he lifts her face to his and barely kisses her
her lips move under his
softly
the room fades to black
as if they were standing in another place
but inside themselves
outside of time and space
he kisses her on the tender corner of her mouth
which lifts first whenever she smiles
her head so slightly turned
as if aside
their mouths not parting
moving timelessly
in a barely perceptible motion
her eyes close
the kiss is a soft one
as if a kiss placed upon newborn flesh
stringing thousands of kisses
within one sequenced Kiss:
white doves descending on them
motionlessly and soundlessly
enfolding them both
within an intense vibration
a kiss across a table
unaware of being observed
they slide apart
the broken formation of birds
their eyes meet and share ecstatically
she makes no sound
but a slight seraphic smile
rings its glass bell
when she moves to the resuming of the kiss
thunderous within his eyes
I will write this into poetic prose she whispers
I will make this into a song he dreams
I will write us into Eternity
she promises hastily
her eyes a sorrowful farewell
stroking his face gently
until he fades away
@>-->>-------
one cup of latte remains
cold and untouched
when she leaves
myra
05.06.2003
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author notes
Colombes de l'amour -- Doves of Love ... yet, she is alone ...
Sometimes my mirrored thoughts are the only trustworthy reality I know ... and I become fragile within my vulnerability and my yearning ... a glass dove transfixed by the spear of brilliant Light ...
I am a ray within a raum of darkness.
I would love to fill this raum with the only truthful Light I 'll ever be able to give: the fusion of colour into the Mono-ray of Happiness - Jesus Christ. I seek Him within my failure. See this poem as an attempt to purify love with Love.
Written June 5th, 2003
In a list
A contest entry
- Order a Cup of Latte by wbiro.
300 points, ended December 10, 2006, 18 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 55 of 55
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this is so beautiful Myra.
enjoyed...
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Thank you, Tara ...
for reading this rather dusty post.
My, but time flies! 
How are you, Poetess?
Love to you. Myra
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A lot of the time, longer writes can't hold my short attention span. This one had no problem keeping me spellbound. Gorgeous write.
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Thank you so much ...
for reading my work and for the kind comment.
I shall return the favor.
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Defining love is hard to do- the ending really does it for this one, the cold untouched coffee is a perfect expression of love's effect. Love is a delicate, vulnerable emotional state.. it can be a trance.. Sweet words and so lovingly sublime.
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ah, I picked a good one here. You know how I love coffee! I can smell the aroma of love, picture the burning cameo oh so well through your words.
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I have this bookmarked. Often read poetry to friends by phone, and from now on every time I read this one I will comment again. There has never been a more brilliant demonstration of a loving heart. This is still my favorite poem and makes me cry each time I read it.
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Breathtakingly Vivid
This is top shelf, with a vision painted so well, I could hang it on my wall. Your words disappeared, leaving nothing but the picture you painted
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I don’t want to write enough to get those little stars, I don’t deserve em. This is the best poem I’ve ever read.
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Oh my word Myra. If ever there was a poem that completely filled me and took me there where the heart dares never go - that place of complete exposure, this was it. I loved every single line and I saw the poetry of unspoken words so clearly where the gaps mean more than the chatter. This is an inspired piece and undoubtably the best one so far by you. This deserved a gold trophy. Awesome work.
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The more I read the more I realize how little of the surface I scratched. The depth and breadth of your love is phathomless. This is beyond excellent.. in a class all it's own. Oh Myra, I'd run out of adjectives to describe how beautiful this piece is. Who would have thought a single kiss could be so intense? This is the kind of poetry that not only inspires but awes me.
Sincerely,
Leo Long -
A powerful write, and beautiful in its imagery. I wish simeone would cast a velvet cloak around my vulnerability. He sounds amazing! Thanks for sharing.
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this was good, but i think it was a little too long. i don't mind long poems, typically, and i can't put my finger on it, but while i was reading the length felt noticible which is what long poetry shoudln't really do. i did think it was very well written, and loved the inner thoughts italicized. very personal. overall a good write.
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en Ek is lief vir u ook. ...
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I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how you touched me by this comment. My cheeks are wet and my heart is longing to hold you forever. And I do, for we are all part of the divinity of pure love -- higher than our dreams
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My beloved Reenie -- I have nurtured this little kraal-ogie (bead-eye) some time ago -- and it was about to fly, after feeding him nonstop every two hours right through days and nights for nine days -- then ON the day I wanted to set him free, my cell phone rang -- an urgent call -- and IN the process of running to answer the phone, I let this spect of divine feathered love fall and STEPPED on it, killing it instantaneously. I was DEVASTATED. I gave all my time, my energy, to safe its tiny life, and saw it loving me back, for it started to fly TOWARDS me and not AWAY from me. It was a love so fragile and so beautiful. YET: I was also the killer who took its life. My friend said: Myra, that bird was already dead when it fell from the sky. But it is not true: that bird LIVES. It lives inside my heart and inside my tears and it will live FOREVER. There is a divine message in here: the same Creator who nurtures us, will allow us to die INTO Eternal Love. You are so tender, so sincere in your comment -- we are indeed kindred spirits touching. THANK you, my friend, for your profound comment.
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I love you very much.
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excellent+
This left me right here on this page, reading, then just sort of thinking----reading again ( as if in a trance) Your title "colombes de l'amour" is what initially drew me to this , as I am a birdlover (I bekieve it is actually an addiction to observe them , be fascinated by them nd their intelligence and learn fom them) And then of course that metaphor worked perfevtly in this bitter-sweet write.
Sometimes my mirrored thoughts are the only trustworthy reality I know ... and I become fragile within my vulnerability and my yearning ... a glass dove transfixed by the spear of brilliant Light ...
Your comment is almost as if it is a part of the poem. And it had me wondering....maybe our mirrored thoughts are the only things in which we ever see and find trustworthyness in ourselves---the same way we find it in a bird that we have lovingly nurtured and thereby earned that trust of those feathered hearts. I know........for I rescued two previously used and abused parrots (a blue and god Maccaw and a Timneh African Grey)They see my perfection in my imperfections and I see theirs -------and yet we realise that together we are as fragile as that glass dove. I am blabbering now , but this write affected me deeply in so many ways (many which I am at a loss of words to even explain)So I will leave this page now with a brava and a standing ovation and a big thank you for all that you said ( even if it was not written in the lines)I can always count on walking away from one of your writes knowing myself just a little bit better
thanks again for sharing this, much love always and do not ever put down that pen and stop sharing your thoughts and feelings in that unique way of yours,
xoxoxo
reenie
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Perfection
*Big Sigh* I have been to that very coffee shop. I have seen that very woman. She clings to the human form with all her might, longing for its perfection. Yet, she is already perfect. Perhaps I will go back to that cafe and let her borrow my eyes long enough to see that perfection for herself. After all, they do make one heck of a cup of coffee!
This poem, like you, is perfection.
Allan -
Travis, in a strange way this has BECOME a TEXAS poem ... and THANK you for promoting it ... Much Love, Myra
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this has long been my favorite poem from you. I once read it to a poetry group in dallas and I've recommended it for several poets to read. I still love it as much as I did over three years ago. sigh...
~travis
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You know, a poet should NEVER suffer BURN-OUT. Poetry should be PURE PLEASURABLE EXCELLENCE.
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Ah Beloved One, you make me so excited! OF COURSE this was only a daydream, dare I say? BUT: if this could be on screen ... think of it: the light and shadows, the decor, the lovely nuances of eyes and lips, of hands and fingers, of shoulders ... All above waistline
A TRUE PIECE OF ART ... I wish we were not so far apart, then you could have worked for KREATIV... and we could have done ALL THESE WONDERFUL POETIC PLAYS ... SNIPPETS of poetry-in-motion ...
PS REMEMBER: this poem STARTED with ordering and ended with the untouched order ... see the irony of love in here ...
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June 2003? I wasn't even born then! Glad you translated the title in the author's comments... (now I'm scrolling the commenter's list to see who has been around forever...! lol pardon...) judging by the author's comments, if it is love and Love that you will attempt to reconcile while ordering your latte, then the person serving you is in for a treat! OK, let's see what you have here, and if it complies in any way to the contest's one rule: 'order a latte', or if you need a modified version... yes, you set the scene right away (and I suspect that first line was a recent addition!) This is a fine piece... I've written down this path before, and in the same way, we think much alike in ways... now you've been posting here for at least over three years... I only two... I'm thinking of where I'll be in a year... I see a lot of people burn-out here... now last, your poem gave me a wonderfully original idea... in Border's Book Stores I see guest musicians and readers performing on weekends and special days... but a new idea came to me when I reached the part where you have them kissing, unaware of being observed- the idea is having two performers acting out such pieces as this... (or better, the two collaborating poets who just happen to be able to perform, too!) it just might put poetry in the spotlight for a while... and add another unique and deep contribution from that corner of the literary world...
Edited on Nov 12 because ''. -
Travis told the truth up there, about sending people to read this. Today he sent me.
There is something exotic in this, and I was transported to a teahouse, Turkish or North African, and there were things I saw you did not write, blue tiles and hookah pipes, and the smell of mint tea and apple-spiced tobacco. This poem is that evocative.
The repetition of the bird motive is hypnotic, wonderful, birds a metaphor for so many things. The appearance of the vulture is a shock, an awakening.
I am not Christian, but this works for me on a mystical/spiritual level regardless.
Magical. Thank you.
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just dropping by again to read this for the umpteenth time. it is still one of my favorite poems on this site.
beautiful. simply beautiful.
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... and of course: you are so right, Richard ... and I am working on it, too
Thanks for reading, my friend ... -
'Knowing love, one cannot compromise'
Yet to compromise is one of love's challenges
and part of its foundation.
Love, the key to all true meaning and wisdom.
All else is illusion.
Just simply an amazing talent you have Myra.
RR
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Thank you, Travis.
I am not at all surprised that you love this write.
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Thank you, Lizbian ... you read my soul. This is as truthful I can get ... Even within love my heart cries for the perfection of Love ... that which I know I am capable of, but which I most probably would never find in this life ... except if it finds me. Knowing Love, one cannot compromise ...
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just came back to read lizbian's comment on this poem
and I got caught up in reading the poem again. it is
one of my favs by you. I never get tired of reading it
or telling other's to read it too.
her eyes a sorrowful farewell
stroking his face gently
until he fades away
beautiful. just hauntingly beautiful. -
i was really iffy about my feelings about this poem when i began reading, but the more i read, the more i enjoyed and appreciated your descriptions. i love your phrases like "slight seraphic smile" and my favorite part that drew me in the most and made me decide i loved this poem was,
"no, she answers
I am filled with sorrow
sometimes it showers joy
and the sweetness of the heart is exposed
briefly
why are you filled with sorrow
if I am here
he asks but she sadly looks at him
whilst caravans of centuries
travel over the desert of her mind"
all love and no doubt or sadness makes me very skeptical over the truthfulness of a poem, but that's just how i like to read things. i love how dementional this poem is.
lizbian -
Thank you, Poets, for reading my work. I appreciate your time spent and generous comments.
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Lovely descriptions -I was there absorbing it all into my flesh.
The ending is just home...a whisper of self.
You are such a captivating writer
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the love that touches here...
open new worlds that somehow embrace new meaning for me!
I did enjoy !
Your word find solice within this old heart of mine!
Keep penning on my friend!
Bill -
Excellent Myra. . .
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@Brian
Thank you Rage, Bill, Claire, Joyce, Patrice, Brian, Debbie,Travis: I appreciate your comments sincerely. -
I'm at a loss of words to comment on this piece.
when I began reading it I thought of TS Eliot,
then it leaped like a Pablo Neruda poem, it became
profoundly beautiful like Gibran, and at one point
I even thought of Jesus and the Beatitudes, but by
the time I finished reading it, it was pure 100% Myra.
I so long to write a lengthy poem like this and be able
to pull it off as poetically as you have. just beautiful!
"whilst caravans of centuries
travel over the desert of her mind"
a stunning verse!
Myra, you've nurtured me with your voice
in this poem...
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wow Myra, this is awesome and beautiful
i felt like i was at the coffee house
everybody has been there
it just flowed so nice- i could have still kept reading and reading
very touching...............
thanks for starting off my day so nicely
deb
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told as only you could tell it Myra ... what more could I add to these comments but I do adore this piece.
"to talk with smiling eyes
and silly philosophies of love"
Incredible lines ...
To answer your question, I have been silent because I needed time away ... you know I often draw back into my world of grey, but I always return, and I hope that you understand. Thank you for caring ... ~ B
Edited on Jun 07, 6:43 p.m. because ''. -
Myra..Oh Love! oh kindred heart...a gift this is... and also a searing poker impaling me, but so much for the good.
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It haunts me with the wings that beat. The fluttering of feathered arms, the pecking of the ageless birds...Ethereal essence filling the air that I breathe. Speak with eyes wisened by pain, but shaded with lashes. He will still find you there, and speak the music of your soul...
What a magnificent poem! Truly inspiring and stirring. -
coffee bars set like a church,
he rips sugar like
this is bread
or just bread
- i wouldn't know but
the spoons fall in the shape
of a cross
or just a cross
i wouldn't care but
he cares
which impairs this vision
or religion
or something -
he believe in bread as
much as i dont but
with
or without it
people are people and love
is love
and coffee is coffee
but
people
are still people
Edited on Jun 07, 8:29 because ''. -
Excellent
Very good M. Challenging to purify love with love but dreams are made of just that. The spiritual flow was excellent because of the qualities of tenderness and divinity expressed. I would think it was quite emotional to write. Well done.
Bill -
Beautiful
Oh this was beautiful! A dream that left me breathless. I think it could only have been written from experience. It made me wish I could live inside dreams. I guess the seraphic smile was your's I utterly enjoyed absorbing this one. Take care,
Rage of Reason -
lol
you??? stubourn?? never
let it lie dear lady
there in the straw which has
now been cleaned of thistles and later
gently wake it again -
Thank you Brian, Kimmie and Matthew ... I really, really appreciate your comments. I am totally dumb when it comes to improvement of works. Please forgive me for not being able to edit ... I hate editing, to say the least. Perhaps you have to be more explicit with this stubborn poet LOL (I'll leave it to my Muse and my subconscious pen ... for now)
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Wow, a lovely piece. To pick up on Gecko's comment, I thought at a few points the 3rd person narrative voice intruded on the golden glow of the rest of the words. To me:
I am filled with sorrow because my heart
is pulsating outside my body
unfeathered and cold
like a dying wet bird
the vultures will peck my soul from my eyes
if I do not cover their shimmerings
with the shadows of sadness
stood out, but I loved this
when a man meets in a coffee house
and sits across the table
he knows the talk will be of nothing
and the pauses between the speech
everything
here the 3rd person voice sounded less explanatory, more universal, I liked that quality.
Brilliant poem, I should start every day drinking in such wonders,
matthew
Edited on Jun 06, 11:42 because ''. -
Myra-
This truly was a lovely piece. It read as a short story with colorings of soft romance. Your imagery really was wonderful and the structure you used was perfect for the reading. This flowed so perfectly. Each part of this transitioned so smoothly into the next that it was indeed like watching those very birds form life and take flight.
So very lovely indeed.
Kimmie -
Excellent
dear Poetess
whom does make the ethereal as real as dew
and the dew as ethereal as the warmth of starlight
your imagry in this is beautiful indeed
and allows me to float along with
the corners of your smiles
in a couple little areas there is a small amount of awkwardness in the wording but the underlying covers this slight stumbling so gracefully
another beautifuly composed conception dear Myra -
Thank you, Ferg, Symitar and Peacelink for reading and commenting ... I appreciate your responsiveness ...
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This is a beautiful poem, one reading cannot do it justice it has to be read slowly many times. I enjoyed my first reading will read again at a time of quiet and contemplate thank you for a lovely write.
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Myra, I found myself adrift inside your interchange, the speechless bridge was where I floated through this entire piece. I don't know if that is where you wanted the reader to be, but that is where I found myself. It was like i was invisible, and each direction the emotion took, it had to go through me first. The essence, the aroma, the surge of the depths of all of it, I bow to you Myra, you have taken me to a place this morning that I can carry with me all day. Funny how these things leave their mark.. and everyone's imprinted image is different from the others.
Such a beautiful work here. I salute you, my friend. -
Myra this is a stunning piece of writing. I was riveted to me chair as each word rolled off my tongue. You paint the picture so well, the setting, the players and all the little nuances and familiarity framed by love and compassion. I am in awe of your vulnerable power and your powerful vulnerability with which you are so gifted.
Reading work like this touches me in a deep place of appreciation for what we all have to share with the world. Thank you for doing that.
with unwavering respect,
Henri
Edited on Jun 05, 10:57 because 'I can'.
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