You are not the wind

One summer day

Walking on a sunlit street

I plucked a leaf from a tree.

“Why did you do that? ” she asked.

“Just playing”, I said.

“Don’t harm the trees”, she said.

“They have their own life”.

“But the wind yanks leaves all the time”,

I averred defensively.

She gave me a pensive look.

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poem by Paul Hartal
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Early June Girls

While walking
Along the street
On a sunny afternoon
Of late spring
The air was filled
With the heavy smell
Of carcinogenic gases
Emitted by
The rolling cars.

Oh! How I
Loved the aroma
Of gasoline
In my childhood.

While walking
On a sunny afternoon
Of late spring
The petrol
In the street

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poem by Paul Hartal
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Happiness is a Shark

Happiness is a shark,
Swimming in the deep
Dimension of the dark
Drifting duffel of sleep.

Decay of despair;
Hardness of hope.

Happiness is a crow,
Hiding in the thicket,
Or flying in a row
At a drizzly sunset.

Drought of despair;
Hunger of hope.

Happiness is a rose,
On the tree of duty,
A smiling verse in prose
Of halcyon beauty.

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poem by Paul Hartal
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Train and Plane

I take the train
I board the plane
I ride the train
I fly the plane

I go by train
I come by plane
I go by plane
I come by train

I land the plane
I board the train
I take the plane
I ride the train

I come by train
I go by plane
I come by plane
I ride in rain

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poem by Paul Hartal
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From the Secret Life of Tuesday

Originally,
Tuesday wanted to be
Next to Thursday
But nobody really cared.

In any case,
It stayed stuck wedged
For a long time between
Monday and Wednesday.

Once, on a sunny day,
Tuesday took a break
And went to the beach
To have some fun.

Friday
Substituted for it willingly
Because Friday
Liked Tuesday very much.

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poem by Paul Hartal
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Dark Sky

High in the black sky
Like a bright moving red star
A lonely airplane ploughs the night
A blinking rhyme of ruby light
Crossing the dark
Between the twinkling diamonds
Of the constellation Ursa Major.

The yellow crescent
Of the curious moon
Stares down on the orphan earth
And I wonder whether its
Clement melodious rays
Will console your gentle soul
And bring solace to your solitude.

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Winter Talks to the Spring

Listen
to the rain.
It talks
to the wind.

Through
the open window
the magic of the night
descends
on the room.

Listen
to the wind.
It talks
to the rain.

Your hands
are
so warm

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poem by Paul Hartal
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Four Seasons

Maple leaves of yesterday
Rainbow leaves of morrow
Autumn strolls on its way
Time it fails to borrow.

Ice crystals of yesterday
Snow flowers of morrow
Winter roves on a dray
Time it fails to borrow.

Oak leaves of yesterday
Verdant leaves of morrow
April flows into May
Time it fails to borrow.

Blue blossoms of yesterday
Forget-me-not of morrow
Summer rides a railway
Love overcomes sorrow.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Sang froid

The earl picked up an early peach
Then walked alone to the beach.
He sailed away in a little boat
Leaving behind a one line note.

I will be back by five o’clock,
Said the writing on the lock.
But a huge wave had sunk his boat
Forcing him to swim in his coat.

Still, by five he arrived at home,
Changed to dry clothes, read a tome.
Then to his wife he said smiling:
Wet Ocean, but swim was trifling.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Immortality

When I die
Bury me under the Tree of Love.

So my heart never stops to beat.

I will live in every cell of your flesh,
I will live in every chamber of your soul.

Words of solace scatter in the wind,
The sound of violin does not dissolve the night.

Yet time does come to a stand in eternity:
Longer than poetry and art
In remembrance I will live,
And through true love survive
Even the death of memory.

poem by Paul Hartal
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