(c) E.P. Robles 2013
The immortal soul
could be a thing
upon the world
unsheathed by skin
but then again,
upon its exit
it would find
such things as bruises
and cuts and bites
Best to keep
the soul encased
in human flesh
while it visits
this monstrous place
:: 05-15-2014 ::
Despair is an anchor
with thorns —
it drowns the ship
and sinks the soul
and the hull,
a skin that bleeds
A heart — the oar
that paddles ashore
Best to use
a blessed life vest
when a storm —
that despair comes
and wisely glue shut
that gapping hawse
:: 05-15-2014 ::
I feared a thing
untold — unseen,
that thing I feared
and my mind,
a thing too —
split in half
by such unknown
I strove to know —
unraveled marbles, too
which spilled
upon the floor,
perfect glass balls
rolled from higher
ground to low
and reality’s curtain
fell — my needle tried
to stitch the past
when love was good
but sequence ran
beyond my needle
what stitch in time…
:: 05-15-2014 ::
my little one! my little one!
where have you gone?
beneath the little bed —
perchance within
a closet full of brooms?
my little one! hide and seek
is your favorite game —
but now i see i cannot
ever find the little one!
life has given you the key
to maturity and you now hide
within a fully grown one!
my litle-big, my little-big!
so proud to find you —
all grown — the little one
no longer has to hide
beneath the bed!
:: 05-16-2014 ::
i should wish to be, gain
from conception through
little feet, baby breath too
a clean slate of possibilities
i should wish to be, again
the admiration of loved ones
if i should be — again
what i was before the now
i would take a different path
such a dream i give —
my solemn vow
:: 05-16-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 