i am held within constant gestation;
little dots called glyph s –words
swim within my Soul. L:0ve me if you
will but love me well if you must love
me.
this is another ‘birth’ and its name
is the subject of this tiny xpreshun
of wurd.
;; 05.13. 2020 ;;
i crawled deeply within rolling tossing Earth
rolling Hills — hot is the Sun as your Temper;
but focused upon You __ when you left me; (like my jealously)
— the Seasons sang, “What with you? What with you? What
with you?” — sweet rolling & fallens: like a once-Living
jealously i possessed you and hated you___ the black taste
of Night — what with you what with you?
-=-it’s me it’s me outside the Window of my Soul
so dark so cold …
who against Death? against Light of Love?
i am reminded of one named Rimbaud — my mantra,
my sweet-one my Monster; never say good bye good bye
\but it’s me: i cannot help feeling E,motions and
ripping all t hings aPart.
Allow the gravity; allow the gravity (and ground)
to Grab you my beautiful dilapidation of RUINOUS
Love!
what monster!
:: 05.10.2020 ::
WHILE the Cherubim sing their deeply forlangen hymns
…Oh, how beautiful! Oh, how sensually sweet!
That i am racked brokenly as suffocating despair
fills my Thoughts! My Mind! Not for this first
time am i drunk with expectation: as a child i
drank the Living Light. A price unseen until a
price paid!
Let us break disharmony and seal a pact with All!
To re-create a promise.
:: 05.10.2020 ::
WHAT does it mean when the Sun strikes a thought
within One’s Soul? This i ponder while i walk
the path called Life. What of the thousands of
screams, untold broken dreams and weeping expecting
mothers? Do you remember them? Your mother, sister,
brother or father perhaps forgot to say, “I love you”
or the county clown made you shed tears when you were
eight.
Today I am walking down a path as the Sun strikes into
my Soul; spits them out as words___.
:: 05.10.2020 ::
we skip across the fence
beyond the WHEN
to Know what we are Doing
forgiving Light a Due
i cannot say this is truth
but suspect that light
whispers to the brain
after all is said & done.
:: 05.04.2020 ::
IF the trees and green pasteurs
find you;
if as when we sat upon a spot
splashed by sunshine then; who
could taste the touch
of Love than most nevered
heard nor seen?
Then come toward me and reach out
we will talk about small things
relieving the Heart of it’s
burdens.
Nature Agrees.
:: 05.07.2020 ::
BRUISED LIGHT i am so sad that i never
gave but a few morsels to my art
just an afterthought
but these few bits fed me a light
that kept me alive .I am so sad to say
this. it hurts something more than
me. like my soul.
i bruise my light.
i choke deeply inside that i am so cheaply
sold on an idea. I am so low that I
could never even
walk in the shadows of others who gave
to art.
:: 04-10-2015 ::
A HUNDRED POEMS – XLVII (Rev: 07-20-2016)A HUNDRED POEMS – XLVII (Rev: 07-20-2016)
THE Smallest is a thing no name barely, just
echo memory. Just the same
Such a stain that still remains,
within my brain, the smallest thing;
fragmented memories.
of every THING i created with my
own Love__ i am a damned heart.
\
\
:: ~~~~~ ::
A HUNDRED POEMS – XLVII (Rev: 07-20-2016)
THE Smallest is a thing
no name barely, just
echo memory.
Just the same
Such a stain
that still remains,
within my brain,
the smallest thing;
fragmented memories.
of every THING i
created with my
own Love__ i am a
damned heart.
\
:: ~~~~~ ::
IT is ‘they” as we sold the sun and moon
and stars away — __ children laugh and forget
up or down autumn spring summer or NOW
if as though “anyone” or “anyhow” have lost
their heart crying sleep wake and hope.
Oh, they try to explain as ice & snow
they try to forget their pain
& now one can ever stoop to kiss their Souls
\as little as little/ as was is was and nothing
more they dream their sleep.
& no anyone more.
:: 05.07.2020 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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