This Pallid Moon Superior

She used her initials

to find a rather exquisite 

pseudonym to use her pen

And just as delicate 

as her lineaments were

so was her choice of words

Her skin - in that one photograph

she showed the world - alabaster like

a shady pale as priceless as bone china

That cautious smile on her lips

spoke volumes, of an endearing way

to pour her love and loveliness in poetry

Where a pale satellite glorifies night's beauty 

unclouded, she was able to unravel all hardships

in couples' intimate lives and still capture its fairness

These verses speak of a loss and of a sweet salute

to a poetess so dearly missed, perhaps her comments 

as much as her poems, she with pen-name Pallid Moon.

Note.

Some verses can only be spoken or written knowing full well 

that the chance of ever meeting the one - who is the subject

of the poetry - in real life is for certain a billion to one or less.

Ergo, this poem was conceived and penned just because of that....

© 2024-01-31

Autoreverse

that

last

sigh

of

thought

a

final

spark

as

from 

the 

now

in

the

know

to

step

by

step

back 

to

the

outset

not 

just

this

life

but

the

very

first

dawn

of

origin

that

flash

of

memory

feels

like

living

all

at

once

resembling

perhaps

outage

yet

it

is

nothing

else

but

travelling

in

time

in

reverse

....

© 2024-01-25 09:28

....

ending

....

bury

vehicle

to

be

composted

its

blackbox

to

be

deleted

and

its

cloud

memory

to

be

reset

....

repeat

....

set

start

deploy

....

© 2024-01-25 13.14

....

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unsubscribe.

Jij niet meer - You no more

Freedom. Caught in the web of love and possesion like your peers class- and roommates the shopaholics and coquets like once your parents - to a partner - to a next ex. 

Addiction. That first rush so hyper and ashamed like when you broke their taboo as you chose willingly or perhaps not at all. 

Addiction. Of fear or lust and burden high-strung and monomaniacal addictive that thrill to score and yet always without winning. 

Addiction. Painful for a loss of any control of a heart that flinches of shamelessness and of a  needless intoxicated search. 

Addiction. That what's buried so deeply for the others so help can be avoided outright to that undiscovered demon. 

Freedom. When you own none to nothing no status no love no family or honour merely freed completely in and through and through. 

Addiction. Embraced when the vein tied off and or moist the cork comes out or torn off wet like in a forbidden dream. 

Addiction. In so many shades shapes and sizes and life not damage free as your cry inside your head heart home from those tightly closed lips passes nothing. 

Addiction. Worked up hidden hiding a sickening appetite that can only be stilled by the wrestle and certain loss. 

Addiction. When having been burned to the ground and decimated you cannot be more lonely than as in the beginning untill that end. 

Freedom. For sinking any deeper no longer possible while wandering this world knowing that unlike you all the others still have so much to learn.

© 2024-01-21 translated from the original Dutch version 'Jij niet meer' © 2013-02-17.

Because of Gaza

*

As I responded to her (*) remark

her eyes twinkled -I could see- 

as her lips curled in a cheeky smile

her pen whispered on the paper

replying that even at my age 

I could father -children still an option-

Ah, and I could not help but gently

-dear one- smile at that tease

Yet where I still do love -to love-

my answer came across as strict

saying, I could not burden my soul  

with offspring -being destined the last- 

And she fell silent perhaps hurt, sad

maybe mad -put down her pen-

where I meant no insult nor disgrace

She turned away and I traveled

again to the origins of time and back

not clarifying my gentle rebuttal

For dear one -wife lover mother sister-

me in Time's beginning having seen 

this, the children of Gaza, suffering

wounded -long before many others-

These final years, she and that sight

of once made me speak from the core

my soul cannot burden any children

And as she -now a grandmother- sees

and senses all the world's hardship 

of birthing even just one more newborn 

Perhaps she understands this burden

to carry -weighing scarring the soul-

this rose that never came to life

her name Gaza -from the beginning-

mindlessly mindful so perceptive 

the All-Merciful blesses her in stillness

*

© 2024-01-13

(*) her = a well educated Egyptian poetess living with her children and grandchildren in Cairo.