Yair Michaeli

Nurse Mary (I Need You) by Yair Michaeli

I checked into the lobby of her one room apartment,
darkened corridor filled with paintings of Jesus.
The fountain throbbed in the hall of this hotel,
shuttered windows,
subtle innuendos,
three knocks.

The night was hot and black,
clothes stuck to our shirts.
The story is about summer and you,
and her dark little island of a room,
and all of her crooked roads,
that had their footprints in my odes.

She was born under the star of Venus, three stars above me.
Her light blue eyes, filled with humbleness, softly saddened.
Her painter’s eyes, mercury mouth at the biblical times.
Hair that was colored like wine dark sea fell down on her breast,
on lips that looked like bare roses,
blushing with blood, eating themselves with desire.

I was a wounded soldier, long afloat on a ship less sea.
Deserted and displaced from the war.
A war between the black and white,
A war between the man and the woman.
Utopian infant, Eutopian mother.
Born into this life, thrown into this world.

We entered the darkened room, and purposely didn’t turn on the lights.
She threw her house keys and bag on her bed, lit a cigarette.
Offered me one, however she took some of my own.
Looking into her eyes through the smoke, where the moonlight floats.
Lit lamp that was hanging from a distant boat.
Now I saw, there was a painting by Arnold Bocklin hanging on the wall.

Spoken Word by Yair Michaeli

A small rowing boat is just arriving at a water gate and seawall on shore.
An oarsman maneuvers the boat from the stern. In the boat, facing the gate, is a standing figure clad entirely in white, a lone loon dives upon the water. Just behind him, there is a festooned object commonly interpreted as a coffin. The tiny islet is dominated by a dense grove of tall, dark cypress and willow trees. The Mephistopheles is just beneath him. As siren grabs him from the of the edge of the boat, underwater.

And she wraps up my tired face in her hair
And she hands me the apple core,
Two birds in a cage, drinking lovers wine and eating bread.

I’ll stop in the middle and skip things between me and her. (It comes to us all, soft as a pillow)

The oarsman has gone
And the loons have flown for cover.
And me I am on trail, in the funeral of my lover.

<img class="wp-block-coblocks-author__avatar-img" src="https://evepoetry.files.wordpress.com/2021/08/4310e-yair.jpg&quot; alt="<strong>Yair Michaeli
Yair Michaeli

Yair Michaeli is an aspiring Israeli poet, musician, painter and an upcoming short stories artist. He has been a lifelong writer and first began creating other worlds and characters at third grade.

In addition to the Bible, many other literary influences can be found in his texts, such as Leonard Cohen, Homer, William Faulkner and Bob Dylan. But his most significant muse is Leonard Cohen, saying that he is the reason why he writes. His poetics are romantic, melancholic and are often based on transcendence, often taking the Old Testament as a point of reference. Citing Romantic painters and 20th century philosophers as a significant source of inspiration.

Maintaining lyrical obsessions that frequently describe death, religion, love and violence scenery. Yair lives and works out of his home, and spends his summers traveling and going to the beach with his friends.

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