Headline Poem 8/26/14 -- A tribute to Rumi

(Rumi, photo credit Google Image)

Seems everywhere I turn, Rumi is being quoted. He's timeless, a libra, and one of my favorites. Tonight, a tribute to him. 

A tribute to Rumi 

I am the grape waiting to be wine,

red content to be red,

green happily plucked from the vine. 

I am sour. I am sweet. 

I am 

small, dry, wet, full of seeds, 

intoxicating at best, abundant at worst. 

I need serene. 

I need romance. 

I need a handful of dreams,

to be seen and

heard, 

respected for my mind, 

my ideas 

that swirl around the cup that's filled

with revelations that twirl

where colors collide and then 

burst 

on the inside. 

I want a description written about me 

and my different moods and 

different seasons, 

offering up my information using 

echoing language 

that pulls them in with words that linger and swim,

how my ingredients 

make perfect 

additions and sweet combinations

for lunches and dinners, 

and spontaneous late night desserts 

unplanned, 

but that last all night

    until the moon is dizzy and ready for  

        slumber. 

I'd like an alter to rest 

upon, my offering of love 

never undone. Wrapped like a gift,

in never-ending paper made from sacrificial trees. 

I want to drink of myself 

and be pleased 

with the taste,

ripe in all the right places. 

I want to follow leaves and winter coal. 

I want to heat the emptiness in a stove 

of fire and light. 

I want to watch the bread rise inside 

and welcome the knife that cuts its flesh 

for serving, on a platter covered in herbs and vegetable soup, 

soft and filling, 

a perfect fit for fish

or apples, or 

honey stew.