Everything Carries Me To You
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© 2008 - Ben Heine

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My Inspiration
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By Bilal Anaim

You are the goddess
and I'm the clay
You form and mold
day after day

For me you have
within your grasp
Please don't
let me harden.

Not to you my love
but to this world
Softening myself to you
like the true love of the lord

Within you I found an empty place
for my heart to stay alive
A place where I found
my inspiration and drive

(The poem appeared on best-love-poems.com)

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Waiting For
My Rebirth
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© 2008 - Ben Heine

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Waiting
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By Robert Frost

What things for dream there are when specter-like,
Moving amond tall haycocks lightly piled,
I enter alone upon the stubbled filed,
From which the laborers' voices late have died,
And in the antiphony of afterglow
And rising full moon, sit me down
Upon the full moon's side of the first haycock
And lose myself amid so many alike.

I dream upon the opposing lights of the hour,
Preventing shadow until the moon prevail;
I dream upon the nighthawks peopling heaven,
Or plunging headlong with fierce twang afar;
And on the bat's mute antics, who would seem
Dimly to have made out my secret place,
Only to lose it when he pirouettes,
On the last swallow's sweep; and on the rasp
In the abyss of odor and rustle at my back,
That, silenced by my advent, finds once more,
After an interval, his instrument,
And tries once--twice--and thrice if I be there;
And on the worn book of old-golden song
I brought not here to read, it seems, but hold
And freshen in this air of withering sweetness;
But on the memor of one absent, most,
For whom these lines when they shall greet her eye.

(The poem appeared on americanpoems.com)

PS : This is a watercolour study (life drawing)
made at the Académie Royale des
Beaux Arts de Bruxelles.

The Terrible Fish
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© 2008 - Ben Heine

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Mirror
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By Sylvia Plath (*)

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see, I swallow immediately.
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike
I am not cruel, only truthful –
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

(The poem appeared on Vmlinux.org)

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(*) Sylvia Plath was an American poet from Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. Her very short thirty-year life was riddled with stress and depression. Even though she was a very smart and talented young woman, at the age of twenty she tried to commit suicide. Unsuccessful at this task she continued to write, though her work suffered, and became darker and more depressing. A few years later she married and had two children and one miscarriage. Still bothered by this miscarriage and her recent divorce in February of 1963, sadly Sylvia succeeded in her second attempt at suicide, by inhalation of natural gas.

PS : This is a watercolour study (life drawing) made at the Académie Royale des Beaux Arts de Bruxelles.

Beautiful Curves
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(Ben Heine © Cartoons)

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Beautiful Black Woman
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By Michelle Jones
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I never knew the beauty was there.
I was a little girl with curvaceous hips, and thighs.
I was perfect in size.
I was young, tender, and firm.

I remember a little pudgy girl.
Fat hips and thighs.
Only a love saw the good in what I despised.
Then a look back, showed all the beauty in me.

I‘ve grown into a
Beautiful Black Woman
I have full breast, hips and thighs.
I’m a voluptuous full figured woman.
I’m beautiful, strong, intelligent, and independent.
I’ve brought beauty to the world.
I ‘m proud and not ashamed
I shall not apologize for who I’ve become.

I’m a sexy brown thick sista (sister) .
Finer than the rarest bottle of wine
I’m good to you, and for you
I know now the beauty is in me
I’m a Beautiful Black Woman

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--> The poem appeared on poemhunter.com
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