‎'The Kiss' by William Mortesen, 1930

'Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid pleasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor." - James Joyce

Where we stand

Standing

In a place

Of grace

An entireness
Of Body
And Soul

Wounds

Cautiously

Wrapped up
In a silky bag
Of discretion

A ghostly Cloud
Of unspeakable
Truth

Blue wind of loneliness
Dressed up
With the coat
Of the inevitable Self

Considering

The doubs
The certainties

At this point

The very decisive bend

Of an unescapable
Evidence

Body in contusions
Of hammered pains

The  mind

In confusion
Thinking
It shouldn't

Nakedness
Experiencing
The warm breath
Of an unstoppable
Desire

Confession
Of a damned Self
Standing
In a space
Of no compromise

I am glad to announce that some of my poems and texts are now gathered in a book: 'WORDS OF STEEL AND VELVET': http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/words-of-steel-and-velvet/18914215

'Words of steel and velvet' is a collection of poems and texts which constitute a reflection on the world and on the quest of our real nature. Finding echoes, sometimes in Irish landscapes, sometimes in the depths of one's self where most of the answers are often anchored.   
                                       

"The poetry of Danielle Baraka finds its roots in the simple gestures of listening both to the external and the internal world. It is marked by a strong visionary imagination that transports itself on paths crossed by ancient myths and legends that her verses clearly catch a glimpse of.

The death, the Loneliness, the Love, the existential condition of Man are themes which are dear to her, considering them sometimes from far, sometimes from a closer distance, as if being herself a stone pit, death or the shining sun. An interesting, simple and minimal poetic : essential in style, very deep and rich in content." ~ Federica Galetto (Nightingale), Translator, Collages artist and Author of: 'Ode to a nightingale', 'Silent is the house' and 'Stanza del nord'.

Printings on the whiteness

The clock
Suspended at a breath
A concentration
Of body and mind
Immobilized
Almost frozen
Into their own
Reflection

That not even

The barking of the dog
Disturbs

The 'reverie'
The wondering
The fight

Stained

With the unconfortable
Taste
Of hesitation

Pleasurable

Burning
Bitterness

Touching

The eager wet lips
For a questioned desire

Dreams, Hopes

Glorified
And yet
Put in the balance
By the deeply anchored
Servile Morality

Habits

Like a too much sticking
Second skin

The will

Of the old soul
Transfigured into
Stimulating pageantries

The merciless

Attraction

Of the other self

Ashes of Angels

Compromised
By  a powerful

Black leather echo

The ambivalent
Wild thoughts

Travelling insomnias
When the devils infiltrate
Into the sacrilegious night
Dark temptations
Of anchored certainties

Duality

In the immense motionless
Loneliness

Not a resignation

But a Purpose
A long process
A quest
Where the Sacred and the secular meet
In an almost Religious ecstatic feeling

Suspended in Time

And 'moved' by Time

An evidence

The mind knows
And that the body

knows too

The weight

The price to pay

The amount of the sacrifice
The Choice to make
The freedom
To express

Black blood
Flowing out of the pen
Into the veins
Of the Sacred sheet

Dark thoughts
Spread among
The white
Immaculate
Winter snow

Desire

Storm-like

Invading and proud
A burning breath
A light capsizing shiver
An awakening
A struggle
To reach
The unattainable
To bring together
The pieces
Of a scattered dream

A feverish dew
Upon red burning lips

Some words

Provocative and bold
Blossoming
With dark echos
On the subjugated mind

Breath contained

Each square meter of the skin

Being mobilized
Flaring out
With desire

In an endless

stirring
Blossoming quest

Outside the frame

A will
A twisted thought
A dream
Another view
Another angle
A flight
Out of the frame

Deeply rooted
Into the wild belly

A loneliness
An habit
A quest

Imperturbable
And free
Not in the rank
Never

Always endangered
By the inner, fatal
Stubbornness

The faithfulness
To stoical

Insubordination

Gardenia Girl's Poetry

Seeping Cistern

Gardenia Girl's wonderful blog of poetry:

http://rawsentiments.blogspot.com/

Thoughts on a Winter's day

A vision

Extended to the fringe

Of the horizon

In an endless echo

Responding to

Questions

Without an answer

Desires

without an harbour

Sensations

Both dark and enlightened

The powerful union

Sinuous
Sensitive

In shivering

Desires and fears

Body

Held tight

In a sense

Of vulnerability and trust

The mind
Sublimated
And transcended

Waves upon waves

Questions upon questions

The mysterious

Impalpable

Alchemy

Thoughts on a New Year's Day

Man's hand
Pointing

Man's mind
Counting

Clock on
                  Clock in

Big Wave

Carrying
Dreams
Along

Moving

Twisted

Ribbon

With no beginning
And no end

Printed with
Unutterable

Scars
And Pleasures

Some to remember

Some to forget