Sunday, June 19, 2011

My Andela

Our love was the real art

She torments me
In each city
Every house I play
She leaves her mark
For me to see
Even in Melbourne
Upside down
She’s so smart

Our love was the real art
I left

She has a voice
She sprays in screams from pleading eyes
To change the way people bleed
If you listen
She whispers
I sold her out
We had a mission
But I had dreams to read

Our love was the real art
I left
In Prague

My bohemian princess
Her eyes still ignite
My passion
Now hid by my wallet
And silent
Mute and dumb
Blind to …

Our love was the real art
I left
In Prague
For gold

She has a voice
Even in Melbourne
Upside down
Don’t forget me she sings
Don’t forget
She’ll remind me again in Montreal
She’ll be painted on my door

Our love was the real art
I left
In Prague
For Gold
My Andela
My Andela
My truth
My soul

Note:  Andela in Czech means: Messenger from God

(For One Shoot Sunday. Prompt is graffiti. At One Stop Poetry)


hedgewitch said...

This is an extremely creative take, and the truth of the words is strong. It's always a pleasure to see what you do, and you always do the unexpected. I think we all have some graffiti like this on our souls, if we're lucky.

Steve Isaak said...

Love most of the line breaks on this - excellent.

Monika said...

Depicting the heart of a true art lover. 'I sold her out, we had a mission' Still the princess continues to embark with his lover on the ultimate journey of love.
Exceptionally beautiful.

lucychili said...

an achy journey =)

dustus said...

Continual torment of leaving love... the pain indelible and seemingly recalled over many boundaries. Creative, moving response.

Claudia said...

oh wow - sounds that love really was the real that you wove in some czech language as well..creative and powerful as always sir henry...

Marian said...

"our love was the real art" is such a strong anchor for this piece, love it.
& also, just as an aside, glad you kept the tree photo :)

Reflections said...

'our love was the real art left...'
truly a powerful force, creating, being its own force. Wonderful write.

Brian Miller said...

dude, love the progressive becomes rather lyrical...great write...

so is dude more acceptible? smiles.

Anonymous said...

Bravo, really dig this piece, lots of real edge to this one. It does indeed, sing ~

C Rose said...

This is a journey to read, touching, painful and composed to flow perfectly. Great write! ~ Rose

flaubert said...

Gorgeous piece of writing, Henry. A true journey.


Patricia said...

Basically, you just made me cry.

Sheila Moore said...

ha, I like what Patricia just wrote - I agree... I feel like crying. Such a tragic poem - second only to Romeo and Juliet. Great job!

Natasha said...

Henry, you are a beautiful, beautiful soul! I knew that upon my first visit when I saw the tree image, and each and every piece validates it further. I LOVED "I'm Just a Man", but I think I might love this more. It is a delima with no right answer I'm afraid...Brilliance falls from your pages! Write on :)

Ann Grenier said...

I am reminded of "The Hound of Heaven" in addition to your overt love story. All from graffiti, writing on the wall, that often annoying phenomenon --- love it as always.

Alegria Imperial said...

The truthfulness of seeing the beloved in everything everywhere is the compelling thought you so unraveled in all its tenderness--for such love is without the sharp edges of passion--and beauty. I love your pure lines!

And thank you, Henry, for your uplifting words in my poem at jornales!

gautami tripathy said...

I say, awesome work!

fruits dance on the walls

I'm Just a Man (Recording Experiment ... I can't sing)

I am in the mood to change my tree to a cubic version.