His Perfect Stillness

His thought, diamonds splashed on the sand
His silence, tumultuous flow of sadness, radiant
His voice, vibrating through my solitude. resonant
with the sob of helpless prayers

He is my tender solace, fragile and precious
His sweet reason teaches me serenity
He is my shy treasure, my worried order,

He is my love, meeting me in the candle
lit temple, where the sun falls sleeping in
the perfect stillness of  tombs



November Poem — WORDS IN THE LIGHT

It’s not only children of Autumn who can make a bouquet of Memories and write a November poem. When the wind calmed down I went to the garden. I started by collecting burnt orange and red leaves. I pressed them between the yellowed pages of an old dictionary. I watched the trees, I gazed at […]

via November Poem — WORDS IN THE LIGHT

you in me, me in you

Meet me at the edge of night, on the banks of the river
Where stars fall into our open mouths and our dry
hearts are moist again, in the night we find our answers

In the blue night, our eyes always open, the language
of the green valley speaks to us as fire consumes our
screams and we rest exhausted under the blazing moon

Wild man’s mouth on mine is the life of my life
his breath exorcising demons and removing all memory

let me be in me, let me be in you. forever.



The Child of Infant Freedom

I cannot live among the alien dark monsters
I cannot live without the fire and spark
The love of the divine Gods I have met
upon the paths of eternal wandering,
their brows smooth, bodies pale and lean

I must travel to refresh the course of
my days, looking for love within these
ultimate confines the perimeter rings
of fire lapping at my skin seeking to
dissolve in me, even if all supports
let me go, leaving me alone playing
with my hands and hiding from the
shadows of the Evil Ones, I will be a white
radiating light in front of the abyss

In my arms the child of Infant Freedom
cries his ultimate meaning as I whisper
prayers over my smoky realm bringing
down the magic hours, cutting in stone
the Runes of my race’ origins.



I live, I hear

It is a slow, continuous and unrequited world
Visible only to the eye closing before the eye opening
Indominate beings walk with other beings

Trees grow that are from before the time of trees
A star temple lives in the clouds, the God inside
Revealing the harvest of the bloody dawn of times
Waiting for reason

The river flows past where my reflection is gilded
Watching me with a familiar look
I grew up with shadows,
Shadows of men reincarnated, violent and loving
Men who ruled the earth, and watched over me

I live for the thorns of the starving sun piercing
I hear the bells ringing and the songs saying

Here is your Dream from the Dreams of God.


freedom and night

I have learned to fly
and to swim, to leave the stones
I’ve collected and dropped
where they fall, and I have
learned not to care.

I stuffed sadness inside
seashells and set them off
to drift away to foreign shores

I have razed anger and misery
to the hardscrabble where it
belongs, so get thee behind me
I pray to the Lord that He
will come to collect my garbage

My wings are older than
your patience and upon my
wings fly my courage that
leads men to madness and
redemption again,

The dove flies over a terrible
desert where bells ring out the
psalms of men



Everything You Do is Beautiful

Your heart has it’s typhoons,
it’s monsters, it’s algebras,
But no one, bending over, sees
in your darkness your stifling
sleeping world except me; and

Everything you do is beautiful

I see your Unbearable eternity;
I saw you harden like a marble,
to your inevitable reality; and

Everything you do is beautiful

You prodigy without name, a
name like granite, it escapes me
You who are formed from God’s
chisel, let me share your love
with the world, offering it like a
bird, I’ll be the water in your bowl;
because everything you do is beautiful

Our secrets we used to know
know that all that lasts is transient
as we walk to feel the earth turn
beneath our feet, it’s the skyfull
of stars that is our light;

Your smile dead or alive, is all that
passes softly once lingering,
this thin strand of life is love
rebirthing; because
Everything you do is beautiful

I sing for the blind flute player,
your song in the lonely night, a
liquid presence crying for all
the silences of the earth that are
written on your face; because
Everything you do is beautiful

Rhythmn pulses of summer nights
We believe the heavens dance because
Everything we do is beautiful.
© Ionwhite

Cloth of Clay


We contemplate sunsets
the edges of roses, the coming
of love and springtime

We stand before the world, seeking
in books, the poems of others always
on the hunt for smalls signs of life

We try to live like our elders, to
wear their shoes, to live in the clothing
they left us; we copy their postures

Hoping that with all of this, by dint
of fidelity, of services rendered to all
their beauty and simplicities we
will in turn receive as a gift a packet
of words. advisements and warnings

Hoping that one day our cloth made
of clay will cover us all the way to Valhalla

© Ionwhite

my beloved writes words from out of eternity

Behind the trees there is another world
Behind the trees there was another world,
the river brings me her complaints,
the river carries me in her dreams,

tonight, the river is silent, the forests quiet
I dream of the North country

Behind the trees is another world,
that my father sold for two shiny promises,
that my mother then brought back in a basket,
that my brother lost in his sleep
I was seven years old and wide awake..

Behind the trees is another world,
a grass that tastes as fresh as morning,
the land of the beautiful black sun,
it belongs to me and you
it calls to us like a nightingale,
always singing, feeding our souls on
fire though we thirst for water in this
long relentless night
Behind the trees is another world,
furrows and lush grasses, villages, the
forests of our millennia returning
from it’s long tomorrow, I play music
to it’s marching steps, the poetry of
my people’s soul living inside each
measured step, when nothing and
none else will live and speak for them
my beloved writes words from out of eternity

I will no longer talk to anyone but him
I know the black sun will defend us
I know this because we defend our sun.