black tea and wild blossoms
of course you have to add the rose petals

lukewarm, untasted
night-fulls,
water leans against the spoon
like a body in the night, skin-prayer

                                       you want me

moonlight shows me
your unshaved face that i love so much

the circling rivers tell a story
– ours
incomparable to reddish stirring tea
it’s better than fire
the heat
in the undergrounds

show me, my love
the hidden place we never had a need to hide

A little more:

The cover art is Red Cannas (1923) by Georgia O’Keeffe. It’s like a sky of fire. She painted flowers large – so large that many people had no idea what it was, and constantly thought she was painting vaginas. But what she wanted was for people to stop, look, and notice. “Nobody sees a flower really; it is too small. We don’t have time, but seeing takes time.” 

In my native language Bulgarian, the word for tea is чай, pronounced chai. So when I say chai, I don’t mean the Indian chai, I mean tea as is – no sugars, no honey, no milk – just love, flowers and water.

Perhaps more than anything though, when I say chai, I mean love.

I mean warmth, I mean connection.

Because of all the memories, all the heart and hearth.

Because of all the intangible things that stir us deeply on the inside of. The giant things, with great meanings.

Chai is like the waters of life flowing through us, only to kiss us into the hands and lips that will then shape love into being.

Chai is like a beautiful dream, a beautiful song, a beautiful lyric. A most beautiful dance. It’s the secrets only our heart knows. It’s the heat of our undergrounds. It’s the soul of the one who calls us towards himself. It’s love.

Sometimes I don’t understand what exactly the phrases in my poems are saying. And I feel that maybe this is a great lesson for my own life – where I try to let go of knowing it all, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. The heart – our unique emotional wild land where only feelings enter the soul of the matter. So I just let the poem be as is. Sometimes after awhile I go back and know exactly what I’ve meant, but sometimes I don’t. When I write it I only know how it feels, and if it feels right then it’s exactly how it should be in that moment. 

Like love. 

One of my favourite phrases in poetry is by e.e. cummings, from his poem “since feeling is first”:

“my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom”

No need to overthink, overanalyze, just be open in emotion – for in love, as in poetry, there is space for only feeling. 

I love what I do, and if you want to support me, you can do so by sharing my articles and poems, buy my books or donate some magic coins in my hat on Paypal. If you would like to work with me, hire me or collaborate, feel free to contact me. 

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