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(...) Art challenges our noticeable tendency to encapsulate impressions and conform them to fixed patterns. It calls upon us instead to observe, imagine, and remember our inherent quality to express in inventive ways.

In a creative process we go through phases of transformation - insights that bring forth a sense of realisation - and perhaps a conclusion to what ideas generate besides the search for meaning may well be all.

Observing, feeling, learning, creating, growing, on and on - life, we are. (...)

LH 2016/17
In Looking at us looking at us
http://idembooks.com



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/Que permanecendo sem ser, será

Silenciosa,
Desperta no alvorecer de cada sopro,
Abrindo janelas de vento, despindo fantasmas de ontem,
Sua domesticidade.
Então feroz, descobre-se nos pensamentos revoltos,
Nos dias e noites, sempre e por ora
Nos corações; Portas que batem estremecendo a terra
Solta, transforma-se.

De passo rebelde, sadia e caprichosa
Caminha sem remorso,
Recusando inspirar razões, pó, tijolos de história
Sobre folhas carcomidas por seres que mastigam, remoem, engolem
Leituras na escuridão sôfrega que a sua respiração sossega.

Eterna, silenciosa. Ostenta novo traje,
No alvorecer de cada sopro.


LH2017




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/The back of beyond


Late that evening,
Around arms and mute lips
Curtains hid scenes with other surfaces;
Expectation communing with distance, and I a speck of space stretched beyond the limits of my chest
Moving forwards, with many other bodies
Enlacing colour with the invisible poetry of their flesh,
Emoting.

Like ice, floating in the waters of a river
Now loose fragments, oscillating through my eyes
That glaze seemed to hold feelings.

I wondered what would have happened if I had done what no one expected?
Blending in with the spaces in-between?! 
I didn’t!
I remained suspended by the thread of no-nonsense
It was too late to change position, after all.

On the last page of my writing pad Iwrote: Living demands taking position.

LH 2017
In Writing Pad
http://idembooks.com



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Dark, docile, deeply mysterious,
Those are the eyes in which I lose myself for a while,
Long enough to forget my worries,
Too short to dissolve them in their magic

They are powerful in concealing their subterraneous nature
Exuding calmness from a whirlpool of emotions,
Stirring my dreams, their longing,
Beneath the impeccable vitreous surface — They mirror
Nothing but a fantasy, having the colour of this poem.

They are also blue and bright.

LH 2019



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/Duet

My tongue – A stranger,
Blind to the margins of your target,
Hidden behind your manners,
It claims nothing but surprise

This stranger does not care for absent minds nor refrained hearts,
It welcomes in every way, unable to conceive the breadth of a lie or the longitude of desire

It looks for the one in the recesses of your mask
Stubbornly,
Wordlessly,
Acting.

LH 2017
In Writing Pad
http://idembooks.com




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/Falsa mudança

Em mim o tempo acelera, como se quisesse dizer-me algo de urgente sem que eu me aperceba o quanto demora a fazê-lo.
É por entre os dias, como neblina salgada, que vela a direção do meu achado - sempre atrasado.

Hoje sinto que o tempo se dilui nas tonalidades de um dia interminável - sem fim.
Em mim, em ti ou noutro alguém. Com todos fará do seu corpo compasso.

Agora descanso.

LH 2016
In Sem retorno
http://idembooks.com


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Quando o teu olhar se desvia sei que devo parar por aqui. Então afasto-me, consciente da distância que nos une, para poderes representar sem ser visto, por entre o meu espanto e a cortina opaca dos teus actos. Faço-o sabendo que é nesse intervalo que a nosso intento se despe.

 LH 2017



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In my tea, three spoons, please!
Sweet, very sweet. I need to soothe my mind tonight.

Honey drips
loose are the words...
Sweet drink, sweet talk...

Hesitating gestures
cradled cups.

My spoon swirls
mixing my thoughts as I speak
and the clock nailed on the wall
points out: got to go, got to go!

LH 2008
In überstein 
http://idembooks.com



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In the Dracula of my fantasy I rejoice in the power of my bite. It is when life appeals to me.

LH 2016



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/Around the landscape of your eyes

In the hide-and-seek of time,
Around the landscape of your eyes,
Walks the other with your steps,
Unfamiliar,
In disguise.

The stranger dresses the night,
Faceless,
Secretly,

His shadow, into your sleep
A curtain of mystery unfolds.


LH 2016
In Looking at us looking at us

http://idembooks.com
  


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In my neighbourhood birds make nests with my hair.

LH 2016
In Looking at us looking at us

http://idembooks.com



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/Object for dreams

Sometimes whispers form my words
Sometimes is the absence of your words
Between me and you

Silence 

Flirting my thoughts
Stretching my soul


Does solitude bring fear?

A breath of quietness

Promises 

Dreams

LH 2004
  


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/Para sempre

Não preciso de frases, encontro-me no teu rosto
Ness
a renda de silêncio onde não guardo nada,
Apenas o olhar,
Transparência da minha sede.

O que não falas procuro na tua língua,
Afluente e margem.

Ficará sempre tudo por dizer.


LH 2016
In Sem retorno
http://idembooks.com


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Whose world is this?

Desires are abloom
when gestures don´t hold.
The Magician is a Sower,
a Shapeshifter.


Do we still wonder?

LH 2015



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There is something behind the mundane that so easily escapes unnoticed, but there persistently whispers...
Sensible to this subtle breeze the creative man wonders. In his thoughts, visions, consciousness, and slumber.
Then when doubt seems to be everything - change becomes life's artistry.
In his mind he breaks the routine, gesture after gesture, reshaping old and new.
 
LH 2015



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The sun stands still, burning like a bulb hanging from a ceiling. An endless ceiling that covers a crowd of people.The people move slowly, like their shadows on the pavement. Neither looking ahead nor having an attentive interest towards what surrounds them, they gaze at their own steps. Some count them, some don't even feel them. They move to somewhere. Nowhere. 
Their feelings seem to be unstirred. Their moods black. Doomed by the sunset about to happen.

Anonymously for some hours the mass condenses in the city centre like a drop of motion about to evaporate. As the hours roll along, their shadows elongate, losing contours, fading away until they disappear.

The night erases the day and with it the steps they have traced. Steps that did not reach further than yesterday.

LH 2011
In Beyond Emotions
http://idembooks.com



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My fantasy is like the sweetest beast. It smells like earth and it is warm. When my hand strokes its fur I feel at home. 

LH 2016
In Looking at us looking at us

http://idembooks.com  



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I am thirsty,
in this desert land of minds
A plant with thorns
My thoughts like droplets thrive

Shallow depths, this Land
stolen from the well of Life
Without words to seed the soil
Without whispers to bring the fortune

I am thirsty,
in this desert land of minds
No one
is all around

Like a plant
in silence
holds the ground,
I close my eyes, and drink the water

LH 2015
partly In Writing Pad
http://idembooks.com