Four short poems 

   i.

Words and idioms –
stones skimmed across
the lake of the mind.

   ii.

His mind, like a gazelle,
leaps nimbly between ideas.

   iii.

He returns to what will outlast him:

the shadowed outline
of a mountain;

the surf’s insistent refrain;

the stars bedded in their dark quilt
above the Atlantic.

   iv.

He is drawn to the idea of the beloved.
That day – if it comes –
when the pull of such a notion
becomes more than an idea.

- Eduard Burle

Save

The moon’s turned golden
as she’s climbed higher,
above the pounding of the waves.

The palms are still,
no breath moves,
save that of my pen,
whispering over the page.

– Silke Heiss, 22nd May 2024

Lunar

Darkening in the dark
of pine trees –
twilight.

   *

Moon, tonight you are
a sliver, a rind
of all my yesterdays.

Moon, my life sometimes loses
its shape.

   *

Boat-shaped moon
above the dark water
where do we sail tonight?

   *

Glide by, silent moon,
glimpsed through windscreen and dark trees.
You lead, I’ll follow.

- Eduard Burle