IN the beginning the word was ‘ah’
and all the stars and worlds were born
and ancient steps of time by law
ensued a caldron of life un scorn
then those with soul and heart became
entwined in union the word be ‘ah’
and soon a gift of child was born
so it was and so it be the power of ah
that even this sound in baby’s breath
da and ma and even God
:: 02-20-2014 ::
though only one heart have I
let my own be given to thee
that your heart should keep me
for thou heart tis all I truly need
:: 02-20-2014 ::
so queer that fear
can stretch out time
a stitch in mind
the needle pierce
what eternity avoids
we carry for life
:: 02-20-2014 ::
AND if you strip away all the words
from all the world’s languages
still there be a way to express fear
and love and hate and pleasure
:: 02-20-2014 ::
that idea about beauty
what more can be said
it is within the eye
but so can it be more
the heart flesh mind
it is either there
or not —
indifference or
convulsion
:: 02-20-2014 ::
night falls, smother the frayed nerves of captive souls
like a penitentiary only a lock at the main gate
I crawl over the fallen
my heart in pocket and fractured spirit
a taste of crimson iron-spice in dirt
the ground swells and trembles below my hands
a pulsing monstrous beast come to life
and I, disturbingly intensely pass through
across these lines of densely packed bodies
like moon surface between cavernous crater
my wish like a snowflake above a furnace
to breach the gate and find my life over there
:: 02-20-2014 ::
I dug a hole in time today
within this vast room
an ancient music I played
of a composer distant past
his hand now dry and cold
has touched my heart still
:: 02-20-2014 ::
[Du verpasst Herr Beethoven!]
SWALLOW my fear
before love taste
that pain of life
that you know me first
Then the pleasures come
more intense than first love
:: 02-18-2014 ::
When to dust this vessel goes
another path that I shall take
not to the fields far below
but toward the stars so high above
:: 02-17-2024 ::
So curious to slip
between the cracks
of space and time
A place without acts
or chapters that rhyme
More of a place I say —
we redo a film clip
so poorly made before
A second chance at life
:: 02-17-2024 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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