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Zelda 7h
I told him
I’d like to die in Italy—  
A last meal rich with sauce and starch,
Wine, sweet and sharp
And a sunset setting over the vineyard

He asked,
“What about dolma in Greece?”

“With you?”
“With me.”

"I could eat—"

Wearing my blue dress—
the one that shows too much skin—
it’s a myth:
Artemis and Endymion,
sleeping sea, silent shore—
never touching, always returning,
sharing dolma in Greece.

He wonders
if we’d get along
in person,
in conversation,
sharing dolma in Greece.

Not that it matters.
But we’d be fine—
friends
sharing dolma in Greece.

The sun never has to set,
dancing, laughing, sharing
Dolma in Greece—
May 10, 2025
Kortu 19h
Velvet-soft touch,
a rainbow sunrise,
naïve smiles
reflected in your eyes.

Caribbean lightning,
words written in sand,
goosebumps rising
up my arm, down my hands.

Tropical jungle,
a caressing breeze,
sun-kissed freckles
spilling over me.

Sweat-drenched longing,
a turquoise bay,
your quiet glance
burning like fate.

Scorching sunlight,
hunger in flames,
a mariachi chorus
dancing 'round the blaze.

Spanish murmurs —
'Vamos al bar',
your family waits
with mezcal in a jar.

Bare feet wandering,
a crimson sky,
the sea kisses shells
the tide leaves behind.

Seductive darkness,
a star-scattered dome,
the high-risen moon
spins legends of home.

A gentle touch,
chestnut-brown eyes,
beneath the palms,
desire comes alive.

Laughing gulls,
a tide that won’t part —
and in this sand
I bury my heart.
June 17, 2025 – 'Egy mexikói fiúhoz' translation
written for Johnny.
\*

                                                            n
                                                   n           ­   u              
                           h                 y                    s      
                    g           t         k                     r      
                                         s                     e   
                   h                  ee               w        
                       g               b           o
                             i                   l            
                                    l       f
                                      n    
                                u      
                        ­   s

Maria 4d
And what’s then? What’s left?
Maybe the faith that the day'll beep,
That day when the sun pushs cheekily
To windows, disturbing sleep.

That day when there’s no sadness,
When everything’s clear and plain!
That day when the soul is married
To happiness, sprayed with rain.

That day when all the trumpets around
Struck the march, bravura and blessed!
That day when I live the whole time
Just live without any dread.
Thank you for reading! 💖
Orange hearts and skies of blue
The stars of hope and continuity blazes through.
Soft low tones, the violin ends the line
I start to feel my heartbeat
The stars ask what are we pursuing
Amidst the breeze of the cold morning winds-
The tune reaches the peak that screams ‘of course we know it!’
Burning passion that will guide us through, it is the fuel of our desire
When we run, we’d only look ahead of us, the sky in front of us
Till we reach our ending there's no stopping for us
Even if we’d grasp nothing, it is the
Pride within the pursuit that
Is indeed the greatest.
19 was a number that
Froze the world. Cooled
The fiery hearts across the seas.
Yet since we clearly know our path,
Who cares if the world has gone cold when
It can be melted away with the hearth in our hearts?
We are like Surges of waves, not one, but countless of them
The violin intertwined with soft piano keys, and our mind is
Set on this journey that never ends, for we have so much to pursue

To laugh, to love, and to live like the surges of passion.
04.06.25
Ode to Surges by Orangestar
Looking, out my window,
Watching, the beginning of a new day,
The darkness of night, slowly fades,
As the morning sun rise, lights everything,
In its way, with powerful, warm rays.
The trees on the hill, on the other side,
Of Maxwell’s creek, standing so still,
The temperature around sixty degrees,
Comfortable, just a slight morning chill.
A very peaceful place, nothing but nature,
Trees and grass, no hustle, or constant race,
A special place, for me to write, where, I wrote,
My first, poem/song, still creating, twenty three years later,
A third of this life, my mind drifting, traveling,
Catching special messages in space.

                     The original: Tom Maxwell  ©  6/11/2025 AD
The river knows what we were,
cradling our summers.

I remember you, girl by the river—
fifteen,
sun-warmed,
eternal.
My ghost in summer.

You laughed, and the river paused…
Barefoot,
dancing,
your brown skin
honeyed in the sun.

All the words I could have said
the river
swallowed
whole.

Sometimes—
when I close my eyes—
I hear the songs we used to know...

You, oceaning the shallows;
Me, a shell
on a distant shore.
Shady sunshine falls on a bright green hill

Chubby cheeks and ringlet curls

Frolicking around fat squirrels and dandelions

Spinning on a rope swing,
A blurry canopy of trees and laughter

Big smiles make us feel young

So we frolicked and danced

under the sun.
Mychelle, oh sweet Elle,
You are my heart and soul.
Like the mornings with a sweet smell,
And the calm nights with a soft lull.

I am who I am but that’s not it,
I was who I was but it's the past.
Once I changed my name everything fit,
Like somehow I know the sun will always last.

I feel lighter there’s no weight like before,
I no longer have to worry about the finishing blow.
Everything is bright and I feel the warmth once more,
The sun always shines but now I see the soft glow.
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