Friday, 22 September 2017

The "Autumn" Repertoire

Note to the Reader: The "Autumn" Repertoire is a series of poems composed in the Autumn of 2016. The poems are mainly written in first person perspective in their capacity to capture the whole. Nature is always available as a backdrop to set the rhythm and tone of the experience. Most of it in an old family garden.

Happy reading.

© omar baz radwan, 2017

Wednesday, 23 November 2016

Autumn. Silence., from "Autumn Poems."

"Autumn. Silence."

Nothing interrupts the silence anymore.
Over dark green and aurora blue the clouds expand
and are reflected in the greenish waters of the mind,
that shines like an abyss.

It is Autumn already and unmoving,
as if sunken in mournful surrender,
the surface of the heart yearns - day-in, day-out.
I think I dreamed of you again.

Of falling autumn leaves
and the sombre thrill of a black bird.
In the dead garden of sad words' echo.
Yet I could not understand its meaning.

In my soul's dark mirror, you stand pale and beautiful.
A picture of never-seen seas of abandoned,
tragic imaginary lands, dissolving into blue vagueness.
My soul bore blood-purple skies.

And my soul's dark fountain created pictures
of immense nights. Moved by nameless cantos.
And the breaths of eternal powers.
I contain you as I contain everything.

My soul shudders dark with memory,
as if it found itself in everything -
in unfathomable seas and nights,
and deep cantos without beginning and end.

Yet I could not understand its meaning.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Child, your wild laughter, from "Autumn Poems."

Purple dawn,
swallow has already flown far off.
Under the arches of the white houses
new wine goes round in Autumn.

Child your wild laughter.

Pain in which the world passes.
Remain attached to the moment
when in the windows of the white houses
pale is the smell of life.
The night devoured their faces.

Child your wild laughter!

By the garden wall
a child-like skeleton gropes in the shadow.
In the wine, glowing gloom.
Spirit's torture.
A stone falls silent by the brook in the green pines.
The blue voice of an angel.
In the ear of the sleeper. Decayed light.

Child, your wild laughter.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

Monday, 21 November 2016

The heart of a lonely man: a portrait, from "Autumn Poems."

The heart of a lonely man: a portrait

The wild heart turned white by the forest.
Dark fear of death,
as the gold died in a gray cloud.

November evening. The crowd stood
by the bare gate of the slaughterhouse.
White sleep.

This most strange garden
of dusking trees. Autumn in full bloom.
Gold and blue mix on shady paths.

Stranger, your doomed shadow
in the glow of sunset. A sinister presence
in the salty sea of misery.

White birds flutter up on the edge of night
over toppling heads and cities of steel.
Suddenly the blueness falls strangely mute.

Shimmering across in icy coolness.

From the dark hallway, the golden figure
of the pale one stepped surrounded by yellow moons.
Autumn court, dreamlike the dark spirits of the wild brook shake the heart.

Sinisterness that descends upon the ravines of the mind!
Sighing from blind eyes.
Pain, you flaming contemplation of the great soul!

Rotten flesh and entrails fall.
So spiritually the oaks turn green
over the forgotten paths of the dead,

the golden cloud over the black pond.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

Saturday, 19 November 2016

The flight of blackbirds, from "Autumn Poems."

"The flight of blackbirds"

When the blackbird calls in the black woods,
this is your decline.
Your body is a petrified spirit of the air
into which a dark monk dips his waxy fingers.
Your silence is a black cavern through which
eyes surmount heaven with untold tales.

Cease, when your forehead bleeds quietly
ancient legends
and dark interpretations of the flight of birds.
From which a gentle animal steps at times
and slowly lowers heavy eyelids.

How long have you been dead? 

Incense spreads sweet and orchid-like from your pores,
slowly the hot forehead bends toward white stars.
Bright instruments sing. Tired eyelids flicker silverly through
the flowers at the window. The stranger stares back.
and listens at the step of black-coloured dreams.

Secretly at flower windows scent of incense, tar and lilac
wafts. Through the garden's borders of foliage
the laughter of timid girls and the trembling
flutter of bell-sounds.
A fountain sings. The clouds stand in clear blueness, white, delicate.

Silent people wander thoughtfully through the old garden
in the mellow autumn dusk.
In the sky one anticipates movement,

towards those lands, beautiful, distant.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

Yearning. Autumn., from "Autumn Poems."

"Yearning. Autumn."

Calmly, as in childhood, you dwell
in a blue cave. Over the bygone path,
your smile and the golden fruit of elderly gardens.
Silent branches ponder. The rustle of leaves.

Gentle is the blackbird's lament. The same as when
silver water resounds in stone. Speechlessly,
a shadow follows the sun that rolls down the autumn hill.
A blue moment only for the soul.

More devoutly you know the meaning
of the dark years. Your smile is in the yellow hedges
where the thrush sings all day long.
Quietly an open window rattles.

The heart sinks into grief at the sight of a cemetery
by the hill. The soul sometimes brightens
when it thinks happy thoughts, dark-gold spring days.
Shining footsteps ring forth in holy blueness.

Tears flow at the sight of the pale sister.
Your yearning arms delicately entwine.
Edge and blackness of the forest,
evening fears in the green -

With dark gazes the lovers look upon each other once more.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

Solitude, from "Autumn Poems."


Moon, as if a dead thing would step
from a blue cave.
And many blossoms fall
across the path.

Silverly a sickly shape weeps
by the evening pond.
In a black boat
lovers have died crossing over.

Still your footsteps
ring through the grove, again
fading under time's heavy lament.
A crystalline wave dying on a decayed wall.

In the garden. In autumn. So quiet are the trees.
Heart, now bend more lovingly
over the pale woman peacefully at sleep.
Wind lull, starless night.

A frightened call of a blackbird.
The compassion of radiant arms embraces
a broken heart.
Quietly the white shadow approaches.

Deep in slumber the anxious soul heaves a lonely sigh.

© omar baz radwan, 2016