From Man’s Heart is but a Drop of Dew on the Violet Flower, English, 2024.

Fear not the armor
the lovely strong steel
but fear neither body
wherein love you shall feel

Yonder life is a mystery
born of glittering lines
and the clasp is trustworthy
yet, my hour naught found

So I try there to walk
among the shivering pines
and I try to be braver
following this path as it binds

So hear me, morning hour:
that not even man with all his power
can consequence outrun
and joy is but a drop dew in the sun!

So when in flower, turned to fruit
go declaim of every truth:
that even he who loves in truce
would sooner light his own fuse
than be generous with his youth

We dreamt in dark, of dragon wing
and there was nothing left to say
so dear friend, be on your way
we’ll meet again one day

Yes, go back to the grave
and I’ll meet you there one day

And remember, Oh ay
that love’s a needle in hay
and life’s a mighty good garden
inwhich humans do play

And I played, O, I played
ran roads by paths paved
and at the end of all days..
my own heart was saved

I saw the water fall from the sky
when the fire was plowed
now it rages on no more..
for I’ve opened up the door

look yonder, to yore!

I’m reborn evermore
and this time I’m sure,
that I know what love’s for
and it’s joy, joy to the core
it’s mortality’s only cure

So..

Ba dum, ba dum
My heart’s still mine

Ba dum, ba dum
even after all this time..

From The Romance of Sir Florimund, English, 2022.

Ah, be greeted my friend

it seems we’ve reached the road’s end

a fine one it’s been, and I must pay thee thanks

for the time that you’ve lent

ah pay no dime, oh it’s fine!

I’ll ride off into time

to be gone among the lines

of the great tapestry lime

early rose adulation

in yow and in tow

for the cosseted little heart

who wouldn’t ride in the cart

and woven are dreams

threaded ‘mong friend and foe

and as shorn as I was

I ate up the day

and listened to sounds

where good men doth play

but woven is life

on the loom of the bellow

and call just a lil louder

popped up on your elbow

put your hand in the water

over the side of the boat

feeling the leyline

where a thousand flowers are-a float

free of all sense

by neither command nor purpose

carried by winds

and ferried o’ fate-r

alas it is slow

the good stride of the plow

but there on the waves

there’s a wind from the sea

stand in its path

and breathe it in deeply

do you feel now the light

and the stride in your steel?

Do you feel now at ease?

when great flowers grow at your feet

and now I’ll sit here and weep

of good joy in my little keep

see how far we have ridden?

ah, I’ll rest now my feet

and it’s true what they say

that night gives way to day

and it’s true what they say

that no matter how our stories play

our endings rarely square

with our beginnings, ho hay

From The Romance of Sir Florimund, English, 2022.

Let it rest

as I sleep through the daze

and taller still’s my need

to be fulfilled and free

and woe that ever I did doubt

in my daring stride

(Are you ready now, my dear?

arm yourself, it’s time)

My shield painted red

by besotted conclusion

told over to me

do my worst, do my best

I sure put myself to the test

(My lord, Will I suffice?

Oh, you always did, and always will)

And leap for the faith

to trust in the water

but did I pour it on the stone

to summon this storm?

But my insecurity is a bellicose fool

and he swept me away

but I will save the day

and break out of this cage

~

And so it was that some day

I shouted appeased

“the one who has come

will take their measure at ease”

I saw it too early and soon

so hide now my whereabouts

lest you begotten some scratch

on thy chestplate

And woe that ever I did fear myself

and my heart

for I am as steady and free

as the goshawk

So rise now and fight!

with sword and steel

and scream to your demon

that you don’t give a fistful of ash

for his haughty threats!

I succour the heavenly steed

when irate’s the battlefield

to inflate such big hearts

with bravery

And so it was that this day

I shouted at ease

“I’m the one who has come

and I will take my measure, at ease

and bring immeasurable peace”

From Man’s Heart is but a Drop of Dew on the Violet Flower, English, 2024.

Art is boundless, art is eternal

it is the only one thing

that can capture the ephemeral

Look, love, listen and see

I feel with my little heart..

something greater than the sum of its parts

and I live with my little soul

a time enriched, which makes it all whole

We gather together, in reverence

and we sit together, in penitence

once chalk, limestone

a carved bow, carved bone

turned oil, new-grown

in eternal shade

a vibrant tone

Look, love, listen and see

what do you feel?

Art is our love taken form,

the glow as it pulses, in a heart good and warm

and art is the shape of our longing

in yearning for rain, a calm summer wind

finding its way in..

I saw many things, I say them again

I’ve given everything,

and my passion knows no end

convolution, absolution

brings the depth of the human existence

into fruition

From The Romance of Sir Florimund, English, 2022.

Sleeping down here in the bower

we’re alone and we are free

our love’s hidden away high in a tower

it’s guarded with good fidelity

And in morning I find myself wishing

that day would turn into night

to sneak into the courtly garden

and beseech a kiss in pale moonlight

(So if fame who speaks his praise

does not lie or deceit

Do I make him my lord and master?)

To have the favor of such a knight

my heart may flatter

now will he be so handsome

noble, and true

that I could hold up the gold

and he would mimic its hue?

Yet I’ve walked through the world

with lion and mead

I drink from the horn

and spit at my feet

I wait now for thee

to come charging on steed

and he who serves a worthy man 

is wicked indeed

if he does not improve in his company

Will the sea now go dry

before I find him?

will the lark now go silent

before I hear him?

I held aloof from love

but it wails now for me

and I know more of this

than the ox does of plowing

Yet I’ve jousted at court

with blade, clad in besagews

so I’m fine on my own

and I don’t feel alone

But I still dream of the man

who would cross the sword bridge for me

and I still dream of the knight

who would kneel down for me

and ask for my hand

And if no man shall do this

then no man shall have me

for I try my best to be

tender and kind

But I won’t have feeble love

and I won’t have half of thee

I yearn for true consummation

of the heart’s soaring desire

I will find him in the shade

underneath the great apple trees

I take this one golden strand from the comb

and I hide it without treachery

to lift this heavy stone slab

and sail across all seas

I’ll call him by true name

and evoke love’s tint

I’ll carve him in my heart now

or carve it in my own

And to have the favor of such a knight

my heart may vision and fantasize

and he will be so handsome

noble and true

that I’ll hold up the gold

and it will mimic his hue

From Man’s Heart is but a Drop of Dew on the Violet Flower, English, 2024.

Look ye, hark ye! - I am come to the land of love

for a liaison in the garden, hidden by the dale

but such was the issue, and thus was the tale to be told;

in which every flower rots in my hand

and old, it is old, the myth of the man

who gives what is good, and dares go aland

even in stranger lands

Alas I’ve Given it All, but Mercy Has No Chance.. The Night is so Long - And Cruel Men Must Dance, O, I cower..

In fear of the plague!

for I have seen a field of flowers where precious time is powdered to dust in the mill

And it was right then and there, that I let go of fear - and first met the wilies, my dear

So hear me Myrtha, I leave their fates to you

for you showed me it’s true; man’s heart is but a drop of dew in the sun

yes, man’s heart is but a drop of dew on the violet flower at dusk

it’s a light held in fashion, just a toy in blood

So I slept in a rosebud, and awoke to the rain

it stilled every fire, and conquered the pain.. 

Now lo and behold..

My heart is still mine...

even after all this time.

From The Romance of Sir Florimund, English, 2022.

Would that I were like you

so shining and well formed

covered for the years

to be unveiled before the dawn

Would that I were like you

so high and nobly born

bereft of all fear

and thereby drawn from the stone

Would that I were like you

so that when I walk

it’d be with angels at my side

heralded by the stride

of a million miles

Yes, I wish to be

a very good knight

raise my hands to the sky

to be respected in spite

of beauty and mercy

with a heart that burns bright

I kneel in the nave

to lend all my sun

but peace without commotion

is so rarely won

And if I ask for your roebuck

I shall have all or none

know that I yearn for devotion

and I won’t reign emotion

So where I plant my lance

healing waters shall flow

and he who begs mercy

shall have it, and know

that his body is sacred

for I shall never stoop low

And the king’s court will burn

to hear new tidings of me

and paint me in poems

to fill quivers by piece

In the forest they shiver

hunting my image

but they’ll catch only a sliver

and do me no damage

I’m the sword between lovers

on the pristine sheets

keeper of glory

for magnanimity

So peace be with you

won’t you come with me

dismount from your horse

and eat from the great granary?

Sit down now

and hear of this

Four are the lions

who guard the son of the king

tell me where do you bow down

in the desolate winds?

Ah, what marvels be seen

by a man who is deemed

blessed and true

like the legend o’ you

You’re the spotless white bull

in the meadow corral

you swim through the poison

to emerge with a crown

And I say to myself

“go on, foolish thing

can you ever be good

as the sons of ban’s kin?”

“Ah wretch, I’m done

I am sullied and wrong

how can I go on

when discord has won”

But from the sky to my feet

secrets fall easily

and the marvels be given

for they can never cease

Oh, Galahad

flower of chivalry

and man of the light

may it be that I be

as good as is right

so my heart remains pure

even lost in the plight

And woe isn’t me

for I see what I see

and woe won’t come near

for I’ve banished my fear

Oh, Galahad

the very good knight

and beacon of might

may it be that I be

as good as is right

so my mistakes are cleansed

and cured of all blight

And woe isn’t me

I’ll be healthy and free

and woe won’t come here

for I’ve called you my dear

to come be my lodestar

and light the way clear

From Man’s Heart is but a Drop of Dew on the Violet Flower, English, 2024.

È del poeta il fin la meraviglia

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge
it is drops of dew on the countenance of all beauty
I become I; by becoming all
I become life, the antidote to walls and barriers
of time, and thought
opinion and place
lines untraced, tears on your face
I’m the uniter
of age and wealth,
body and health
I bring we together
so we can exist forever

it is wonder, fascination
in nostalgia
and ablution

vanitas, infinitas
where are they?
bound to the sound
just waiting to be found

and you were lost on the moor
came home to a locked door
so left a pasquinade, little rodomontade
we playfully play
make joy of your frustration
enter it, once astray
and now you’re here

I become my poem
I become my love

Poetens syfte, är att väcka förundran

fifteen, nineteen
eighteen..
longing ad infinitum
yearning for the marching of the drum
No more but so?
we must better learn
to know a hawk from a handsaw
Know a lark from a willow

and a thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases:
it will never pass into nothingness
many a poet are born to feel unseen
No more but so?

sir, I am come to pastoralia
saw the whole world grow from a pomegranate..
Daphnis ego in silvis
memento mori, she’s lost on the moors, miss
a golden beacon raised for you
so you could find your way through

I become the poem
I become immortal
in gaudium, gaudium;
et in arcadia ego
Gaudete!
I’m everywhere
you must dissolve obligation,
in order to let go
No more but so?
O, the things you know..

I am determined to have curiosity
I will be wise, henceforward
I will listen thrice
think more than twice
finding your own voice, is the greatest price
of all
‘tis the way all must go
it’s no more but so

this lives on
gives life to thee
this lives on
gives life to me
Do you see?
come and be,
with me
come and be
be me
be you

wings unseen,
herald’s call
become visible
leave, but stay
ad infinitum
a melody endlessly strum
on the golden lyre
an almost inaudible hum..

olympic flame,
a neverending game
no winners
no losers
only bruises and bouquets

the poet
he is, become infinity
just so, intrinsically
a poet
a human

the most essential balm
and the most vital thing
I’ve found the holy grail
and it resides in the richness of a tale
in the tales we tell,
the poems we read

I write tonight, in golden light
I fight nothing, ‘tis the only thing that’s right
and for once, all is right
I fight nothing, and find everything
in nothing

since time immemorial, I deplore you
be part of this legacy
enter into ecstasy
a rapture..
the rapture
captured in a word
risen from the ink

The purpose of the poet
is to instill wonder
and to open gateways

meaning is predicated on this feeling
for meaning is itself; a feeling
unreeling, so unreeling
I am feeling, always feeling
this one feeling

now I am, become life
not all is bleak on this earth
not all is lost in strife
listen and see
deep within the chaos
you can be free
you; the eye of the storm
and poetry? the way a sanctuary takes form

Je suis née pour ce faire
Detta är mitt syfte
Je suis née pour ce faire..
Detta är min mening

It’s no more but so..