John Daniel Thieme Quotes

#1. beneath the stars that drift; she sighed and said
"Every tale of a love
can only be a tale of ghosts that linger
in these spaces we
can never hold," - as the wind
gave echo

John Daniel Thieme

#2. we lived depravity
and called it truth, silencing
our dreaming, and
our love, discarding
things holy.

John Daniel Thieme

#3. a few words spoken beneath the moon, love
may be, but I write your name
in the celestial dust that lingers
in the air, above
the veilchenblau roses, callow
and pale

John Daniel Thieme

#4. I wish to go down under the waters -
the cool, crystalline waters that I knew, where all
that is, here, existing, is
is only to be lost within the susurrations
and the rumours of water and the evening star
we wait for...

John Daniel Thieme

#5. . . . This
is not the same river at my fingertips.
There are no paths, no sunken roads
familiar in the forest, by which we can
retrace our steps,
by which we can escape
by which we can reclaim and return,
or hear the child's song running in the timothy . . .

John Daniel Thieme

#6. . . .though the names of lovers are forgotten in time, their names
written across the sky as ogham threads are traced
between the stars

John Daniel Thieme

#7. those whom love has held, has held here in time
curious, in this labyrinth of roses - it
will go on holding, though in cruelty - of
stars we could not reach for, but still remembered.

John Daniel Thieme

#8. . . .our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolving
within the trees - then, fleeting words of consolation
would not suffice if feigned, and flippant words
confessed reluctance - our words
were meaningless uttered on the wind. . .

John Daniel Thieme

#9. . . .in your light, had I learned to love, here
in your beauty, could I speak
knowing of this space close within
as the breath held inside a garden rose, there -
there is no time.

John Daniel Thieme

#10. that I thought of you - of the air that slipped
between the strands of your hair, and blue stones
in my hand, before the autumn damasks

bloom their last, before these blue stones are lain
forgotten as the blossoms of plum trees
I could not render in my artless hands

John Daniel Thieme

#11. To forget would mean the things we never knew
had never waited to be known, never waited
to be forgotten, had never been; waiting
beneath the long dead stars
in time. . .

John Daniel Thieme