Author Archives: EPRobles

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love...

MORNING BLESSES

BECAUSE all of nature testifies
by color, beauty and grace

that winds are sheets of fresh
mornings; the dew dots each

leaf and birds of all feathers
sing joyous tunes is how Love
kisses me is how Spirit flourishes
with all hearts!

::02.16.2020::


TRUNK

WITHIN sunlight the shadows are more

defined.

My skin is relived by the sunburn.

I did not follow her down to a bridge by the

creek but rested upon the trunk of an

e l e p h a n t.

Then again mostly upon knights and queens

i am sleeping. The cornerstone of Life

is part sleep — the rest is made of dreams.

::01.26.2020::


SOMETIMES IN GOOD TIMES

SOMETIMES the good times & sometimes
we get what we want )sometimes(
Having had a Dream within this Dream
was a long long time ago and Lord knows
this isn’t the first time, no it isn’t the first time.
How we dreamed and dreamed of each other
without knowing each other’s names or where
we lived and breathed — so, please let me know
oh please let me know how you are while
an ocean keeps our hearts apart — this good
man is so in love with
your voice and smile and sunny Soul.
Goodnight, goodnight sweet darling.


BLESSED ARE WE

Tomorrow is tomorrow and today much as yesterday–
smelling time tastes like frozen pipes
in winter-time.   There, across the kitchen table
i see a beach of white sands and emerald waters –let us jump across the kitchen table and rush the ocean.  Your hair is golden  brown and your legs are tall skyscrapers with many talented tenants — I am the only tenant but pay nothing in hard currency. 

You and me are One. 
The birds no longer fly into the windows of our Souls — we have opened our windows to allow fresh beauty into our World.

::02-22-2020::


Late Winter Blues

He wore a fedora to hide the sun /  broken shoes to show his Soul
no others would approach unless assured —  seeing tomorrow’s morning would be good 

Slaying stares with the voice of his Eyes Parting waters by breath and sigh
goes the maker of words the nurturer of worlds\ so i bleed
so i need so i feed  Upon the refusal of Life — it keeps me
it shows how the world turns upon a top of needle-headed feeble thoughts — go away.

:: 02.22.2020 ::


Digitalis

TIME has eaten all the flowers
see how bare and desolate
the countryside screams
In my Eyes the sun;
within the air dispersed
digitalis — a heart bruised
with broken hands_____
And My Love holding
my Soul against her
Spirit of Goodness

::02.22.2020::


EPILOGUE by THE BEAST

I PICKED a flower as red as MY EYES

A thorn pricked me;

I slayed 10,000 Syrians — in 30 BCE

IT was The Season of The Beast

A S N O W

:: 02.14.2020 ::


SEASON OF THE BEAST

Come! See what has been done!

Quickly, before this primordial beast slips away again! Watch to keep your stare from it’s eyes lest you are hypnotized.

In the distance one can hear the township wailing. Those are the poor souls who have lost their silver cord.
There! See!?! The woman with her…with her baby.

Do not stare of their eyes. Do not!

A woman dressed in jeans and an amoebic design t-shirt strolled by with her carriage.

The wheels were missing.

As were the infant’s eyes.

Across the street four men sang an unknown song within an unknown tongue. The stars are the secret elders of our generations.
And some ‘humans’ too.

:: 02.14.2020 ::


A Gentle Slap

today is the day it will rain frogs and dogs and cats. The rest of the world’s creatures are queued for the thunderstorms for next week. Nature works that way; direct paths, no shortcuts and makes her point. \\Umbrellas are used
for both rain and sunshine but boots can never walk life’s path without
getting scratched and worn.

The Hand of God is gently slapping me today
and young and old women wink at the tears
i am producing from laughter___.

:: 02.09.2020 ::


Silver Cord

|| send me to oblivion where the soul never begs — ‘sometimes’ is always
winning over ‘always’ even though (mostly) things of great concern are
never present / living on the outside but dying on the inside \ i climb
upon my silver cord and find a place to hide ||

seasons are nature’s Living Kaleidoscope
the colors absorb the shadows

:: 02.04.2020 ::