COME here —
slay time for love
stay near, if be
while my heart
quietly bleeds
No soul bids
death as
reward, dear!
So, come here
if not, then near,
so I can smell
your heavenly skin
all the while
I gently bleed
And, I should go
into that night
alone all the while
my heart gently bleeds!
:: 08.21.2024 ::
with a heart(broken)
knee, i bend low—
am i, your subject,
to love’s silent blow?
all that is as clear
as the whispered “moon”
falling softly from
your lips’ sweet tune.
conception raised her flag
high above the stream,
where creatures bathed in
their unloved dream.
commoner-kings, with wonder
now spent,
began to weep, their
nakedness bent.
“oh, the soft stars of november
are loved!” they cried.
the stigma, a shadowed-
silverglare, i screamed,
“my binding strong! my
smooth white pages! all my
blood and love, i have
fed and raised…”
the mouths of syntax
devour
m
e
:: 11-21-2016 ::
:: REV – 08.21.2024 ::
My words are children—born complete—
Or wanting—limbs—or Hearts—
Unyielding—though the form may lack—
Their Life—by Art—imparted—
A Soul’s embrace—a Painter’s hand—
Or Poem’s—whispered Breath—
Each speaks—unto the Giver—
Dances in the Shadow’s path—
They Echo—through the empty Hall—
In every silent Room—
Each syllable—a living pulse—
A Language to the Tomb—
:: Rev – 08.21.2024 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 