Colors of Silence
Yellow roses swing in the wind
Lonely dogs bark but the wolves prevail
The violin strings snap, protesting
The aloofly silent mind of the nail.
Blue tulips pray with the bells
On the lake white triangles sail
The postman walks slowly, pondering
The silent somber red box of the mail.
Evening descends on the green hills
The trees are wincing along the grey tail
In the dense dark rests the black forest
The silence dreams it screams under a veil.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Birth of Point
A quiet line
crosses slowly
the theatre
of the mind.
Imagination
rides lonely
a cumulus cloud
and smiles
into the night
in a mirthful
mode.
A shiny moon
paddling
in the sky
winks at a poet
writing
an
ode.
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Love Never Dies
When its time comes
Love retreats
To concealed corners
Of the heart.
It hides between
Down-reaching shadows
Of exiled weeping willows
Coated in the clement crust
Of repressed memories.
But love never dies.
I loved once a woman
Who said one day
That she ceased to love me.
But love never lies.
Years later we met
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Once Upon an August Dreamy
Once upon an August dreamy
I saw a flat plane very sphery
I could not imagine the simple
Deck ducks danced in a drizzle.
I dreamed of the impossible
The perceptible invisible
Paris moved to Guatemala
Goethe wrote the Kalevala.
Once upon a winter bleary
I saw the world seamy, creamy
The yellow a purple colour
The mirror in misdemeanour.
I dreamed of the impossible
The pope became infallible
Vendors sold plenty of things
Rag rings and American kings.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Venus and Candor
Beauty is not truth
But a transient mask’s shadow
Across the foamy sky
Opaque flight
Separated from the blue fire bird
Of a convulsive life.
In dazzling charm
Narcissus may revel
And celebrate vanity,
Yet grandeur, glory and grace
May also radiate
Through unsightly wrinkles.
Truth is not beauty
But a chequered meadow lark
Discovered among dense saffrons
Of lilac harmonies
Over pastures of violet discernments
A colourful bobolink singing
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Fading Chlorophyll In Maple Leaves of Autumn
Stands still the foliage
In full colors of October
Upon the slopes of Mount Royal
And white seagulls hover
Above the waves
In the port.
The purple foam of urban magic
Penetrates everything and overgrows
This city compressed between hill and river
While the quiet sorrow flows
On the streets
Of downtown.
Stands still the foliage
In full colors of October
Revealing my own life cycle
My receding years, hidden order
Fading chlorophyll
In maple leaves
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Whispering Forest
You are a whispering forest
Enchanting, dusky, intense,
Inviting, wild boreal scent,
Unfathomable, hearty and dense.
You are a murmuring ocean,
Swarming with fish, recondite,
I swim in your azure water,
Along your shore I glide on kite.
You are the rain in the desert,
Lightning and thunder of the storm,
And the calm dawning, fresh and clear,
The flowers springing from the corm.
And you are a redeeming monsoon,
The grace lighting lamps on the moon.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Woman with Train
She rides her bike
Along the railway
Crossing the tracks
Where the long trail ends.
Her gray hair shines:
A flying silver kite
Over clover fields of August.
And at night
When crickets sing
The praises of star light
And pale shadows bath
In the dense void of darkness
She dreams
Of pink-skinned breast-fed babies
Of white butterflies
Or red grapes and rye bread
With black olives.
And as she sleeps
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Black Tunnel With Light
We used to be so close
Like one flesh and blood
But right now
I have to take a step back
Outside there is still light
Only the tunnel is black.
We still sing and dance
And when our eyes meet we laugh
But right now
I have to take a step back
I need a fresh look at life
The things placed on the rack.
You still say, “Come home”
Into the cinnabar cave.
But right now
I have to take a step back
Put a finger on the pulse of flux
While waves wash ashore the wrack.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Why the Snow Melts
Rainbow Square,
You said,
"It might rain",
And then you put
An umbrella,
Adorned with
Dragon eyes,
Into my backpack.
And I
Recalled the story
You once told me
About
A brawny dragon
That got angry
Because he saw
That the happiness of
A man and woman
Melted the snow.
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poem by Paul Hartal
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