Short Cypresses Poems

Along the centuries-old Drostdy walls 
and sidewalks lined with cypresses

Scents of late orange blossoms 
envelops you
Conjuring up foggy memories

The street burning your bare feet:
An initiating walk-on-fire...

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Citron yellow-
                  prussian blue
brings day and night 
                 into view.
Two sides of a coin
      - a shadowless wheat field
      - a brush-stroked sky
Eye-impressions do not lie

WHEATFIELDS with Cypresses /STARRY night- Van Gogh...

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*** (Touched, the bells)

Touched, the bells
of churches on Sunday,
expand the joy
of these cypresses
shielding
the bent shadows.

And at the place of
lucid peace
aside
the wheat and bread
made for
that day
with wings
blown off by time, it stays -
the fallen statue
of that one
who nothing shifts
as he is into
joy....

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a drawbridge is seen
a yellow carriage ground 
grass so very green
sky and water
 blue in a frame of gold
decorate the scene
as if in a dream
 a starry night
 cypresses over a field of corn
great sunflowers 
a symphony of yellow
blue fields
 as far as the eye can be seen

 exaggerated proportions
 bring
 intangible thrills
over&over
        the stylised brush-work 
scene...

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Day and Night
by André Steinbach

A day,
dispersed in eternity,
the hours are
caught in a blinded mirror.
A fading moon is hiding
in an empty space.
And green cypresses
shiver in the wind.
Willows are caught 
by surprise,
and silence is spreading
with the wings of love.
Only tulips and weeds,
but where are the roses?
Set your sail of innocence
in a fading light.
And night is falling,
touching you with silence....

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A sultry night,
cascading blues 
dance in moonlight’s caress,
through the mossy-laden
cypresses.

I see a gull
flying in the 
sapphire and white
clouds and think
back to younger days,
when we’d like in the grass
and look for cloud animals.

As silver moonbeams 
jitterbug among the waves,
my heart beats
in ecstasy,
to the music of 
water laughter.

La Bella Luna’s
a veritable charmer.
...

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A drawbridge,a yellow carriage ground a glaring orange,grass so very green,sky and water blue in a frame of gold.Peach,plum and apricot the orchard passion cannot last.As if in a dream  the a starry night,the cypresses over a field of corn,great sunflowers in a symphony of yellow,blue fields as far as the eye can see in exaggerated proportions to the  eyes whether to advantage ,or not, and those intangible thrills to the core in this search for conception....

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Crepuscular rays filtered through the trees:
Tall black cypresses around a dark shrine,
Evening grim bells toll as I feel the freeze,
Conscious the tomb covered with rambling vine,
While nocturnal butterflies just decline.
I could not help utter a maze of sighs, 
My desolate unborn baby just lies, 
Never forgotten, but always evoked
Except the woman who'll never get wise.
Cursed she'll be, an oath I never revoked.

Fiction
I am against abortion.  But I am in favour of forgiving....

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