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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I Dream the Dreams of Shepherds

I dream the dreams of shepherds
Their yearnings are mine
I long the longings of peasants
Wandering south of the Rhine.

Walking amid scented almonds
Across groves and vineyards
I remember unknown places
Far off the crowded boulevards.

I travel with sailors and strangers
Gazing at clusters of stars
Under the silhouette of Etna
Sirocco strikes sails on spars.

The mind includes the excluded
The view contains the viewer
I am the fisherman’s boat
An ivory cloud, blue flower.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Teddy Bear

Modern teddy bear
My cyber teddy bear
Your walk
Is clumsy
And your fur
Polyester
But the battery
In your heart
Is real and solid
Like the soldered
Lead lid of coffins.

When I was a child
You were different.
A little worn out
And soft you sat
Obediently
Next to the pillow
On my bed,

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poem by Paul Hartal
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Vanilla Gate

Come sweet Red Flower and enter my life
through the vanilla gate of fate.

Hold my hand Red Flower and walk with me
in green fields of grass and tranquillity.

Let us climb together snow-capped mountains
in a fiery sunrise of passion.

Let me kiss your graceful mouth when the wind rustles
among the leaves of apricot blossoms.

Let my lips wander onto hidden places amid orange trees
and citrus fragrance praised by bird songs.

Magic rainbows adorn the night sky
diamond stars strew strawberry sparks on our embrace.

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Garden of Questions

Begetting burdensome outcomes,
Remember quiet qualms clad in benumbed bandage.

Let the clandestine rejoinders boil on a heyday of blossoms;
Let them rise in a fiery fury in thunder of rage.

And then,
While the silky lens of molten music
Refracts the colours of life in trance,
The muses distil the soul; remove the chains of heart,
Empower and lead the dance.

Now your memory renders the train of events.

Look:
A poet is strolling slowly
Through the garden of questions that are hidden
Under the viscous veil of answers.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Absolute Irony

'The universe

is a mysterious place',

the poet said.

'There might exist

other worlds wherein

the laws of nature

are different from ours.'

'No', the engineer said,

'in a vacuum

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poem by Paul Hartal
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