TWO legs two arms
a tongue and a voice
two eyes looking
inside my Skin
(makes me cry)
& when winds are strong
at times there breaks
through branches so bare
the breath of a floating
feather — her beautiful
world birth’d of Spring
About this poet-heart
a splendorous rare jewel
turning symbols into
mortal thing.
:: 07.05.2020 ::
WHILE walking today this feeling
deep inside sang,
“i am not anyone or anything”
but now and then again
i write potions of words that
seem to give hearts something
new: sometimes funny, sometimes
words of broken love; no, not one
person can hide/ but today while
walking i imagined i were a painter
of feelings — a man of proportions
that gives every ounce of my special
Love.
And then and now when you are down
remember you have a brother that loves
you. I have walked over and above
big stones and one day i imagine ;i can
sculpture something so new_____so tell
anyone and sing or cry silently —
i have put down in prose how
wonderful life is with its challenges
: sit tonight and recite your private
verses and remember how the Sun today
sang to you and everyone.
:: 07.05.2020 ::
FORGIVE me that i know:
yes is a pleasant country —
while floating within a deep
blue sea ; who is your master?
THE voices sit me before a
grand window opened wide
to smell summer heat and
burning petals are a jumble of
flowers bathed in blue air and
fire. Every living thing is
heavy-breathing and bewitched
and terrible; the World consumes
and rebirths beauty in her blossoms
of rose-rich honey.
:: 07.05.2020 ::
AGES of restless furnances
dancing among their own flames
eating death by untold wars
The Soul: a great warrior
and Earth the expansive battle-
ground that wring the necks of
evil ones; stamping & dancing
to kill the flames, vile hands
mottled flesh and skin.
Across the blue skies a Peace
while men scream and women cry;
babies giving up the life of youth
for the grave — turns the heads of
lambs!
while young men turn old and gnaw
their fingers; never praise madness
when it is madness of no purpose!
:: 07.05.2020 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 