Tag Archives: love



Categories: Poems, Tags: , , ,

TEXTURE Original handwritten Italian letter on genuine aged paper-1778

Envelopes in boxes, another day of rain. Lead me
to the place where there is a door called Home, something
like a cure for words that rise like giant shadows
when the heart is alone.

It’s been years since I read any letters,
since pages, yellowing, trembled in the folds
of my hands. So many are gone now, either
by breath or estrangement

I keep them like someone who does not
toss the flowers from the vase until the last
blue petal falls, till the fragrance becomes

I don’t want to forget the fires, the lost
forevers, the shadows where dreams filtered
into dust. But yet I do want to forget more
often these days. Offer food to birds that

fly away and leave no gift except the
echo of their song. Maybe that is why this
box is mostly closed, like so many layers of
time. Hurry up. Open the door.

~Heather Lenz


The Dream Slips

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,


011/365: Back on the motorway.

Inside the palace of winter
I wished for your hands to touch my face,
Inside the wall of stone
I begged for the feel of the open space

Where we could run from kings
from governments and lords,
With savage bodies free
not wounded by their swords

To live in the passions of wild love
and sleep in the infinite birth,
Of warm and vibrant seeds
sifting within the earth

Where the night is welcomed by fires within,
and the rain brings a tender gust,
To leave behind the merciless gates
That flood with blood and dust

All this I dreamed within my dream
but woke inside a cage,
Where golden sun and silver chains
had choked my heart with rage

And saw your eyes all cruel and sad
and sexist in their way,
And cursed the world that made you mad
And damned the dawning day.

~Heather Lenz



Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,

Shoe Box

The grass glistens religiously,
a replica of your reflection in the window
where the music whispered
a departure from your lips.

Even now, I keep the wind diluted
in this cup, and recognize the taste of bread
as a smell sifting from the Creek Cafe.

The weight of this rush amuses me.
I organize answers, and waste a box
of memories on your touch.

~Heather Lenz


Dinner for One

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

Hong Kong Day #1

These July nights are such a drag this year
my value isn’t getting any better,
At work the heat is thick and heavy
but at home it’s still so cold I need a sweater

Not much happens here at all
I light my candle; watch the wax melt away,
And I put a WELCOME mat outside my door
but no one ever really wants to stay

So here I sit with a dinner for one
at a table set for two,
I throw my plate at these same old walls
and somehow make it through

Another night with an empty cup
with a dish of pretty lies,
As I think of those who left too soon
and remember the colors of their eyes

It would be nice to see for once
the shadow of hands so fine,
Or feel the rush of a silken touch
brush these lips of mine

But not much happens here at all
though through this night my song plays softly on,
And when I finally think there’s someone knocking
by the time I get downstairs the person is gone…

~Heather Lenz



Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,


Sailor Bay, Middle Harbor, Sydney

Do not rediscover me, old flame,
my heart has left your overrated claim
And do not send your flowers to my door,
I do not need or want them anymore.

No, do not recall the memories so sublime,
if in haste you wish to call, put far away your dime
No, do not send the lovebirds out to soar,
I do not need or want them anymore.

Through my life I now do make a trail,
I fight the storm and overcome the hail
So stay away on your own distant shore,
I do not need or want you anymore

Times have changed and for the most of good,
I have burned the wet and rotting wood,
So sit alone upon your unswept floor,
I do not need or want you anymore.

~Heather Lenz
this poem first appeared in Stepping Stones Magazine (print)

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