This is the last kiss
a memory yet to burn
those souls who regret
a hand played badly
What was it you said?
“life is a game played”
such words you’ll regret
when your life crumbles
I knew the verdict
when I saw you walking
toward me not looking
and my heart shattered
too many pieces to gather
and your words destroy me
“life is a game played”
When the sky falls
I crumble into pieces
and your soul too
one day will burn
when you remember
the heart you destroyed
:: 04-10-2014 ::
Google Images – Le Reve (The Dream) Pablo Picasso
WHAT distortion of dreams
over simple lines — trip
my mind when I see
fractured beauty
a contrast color
the beads of red
and yellow
upon broad shoulders
and clasping hands
over burning Mother
A pity short lived —
Fauvism so gently going
but the passion remains
:: 04-10-2014 ::
A world without fear
a strawberry taste quench
and springtime for hearts
summers so brilliant
without glaring heat
what a fall so elegantly
to leave and drop without pain
a covering for romance
and winters white and ice
where your kiss is the taste
of that which is behind —
a Springtime taste…
:: 04-10-2014 ::
(c) E.P. ROBLES
Prejudice in society reflects
two horns and a forked tail
deep spider-mud across the land
putrid waters full of dead hearts
Prejudice in society spits
giant columns of hell fire
black doves in the Joker’s mask
four-leaf clovers spinning backwards
Prejudice seeps into the conversation
when lips and brain are not connecting
only the true soul of the bearer
Many bars in hell rejoice in drunken hiss
Clear eyes in a sheath of pure light see
there be no paradise for dark souls
a parade of masquerades for the hidden
chained links of tied tongues scream
:: 04-10-2014 ::
and what of that desire
a pouring rain,
from the heavens, fall
through the funnel skies —
a splatter upon my roof
slanted tiles stacked. Yet,
another journey in the fall
a figural shaped as my heart
your tears seep into me that
ground of my spirit
a split
thunder-lightning show my face
from a celestial eye came tears
as an arrow
— my own eyes
which
are
that target
your tears pierced into
that countryside haven
and found your home
within my lonely soul
i kiss the tears
that bare your fire
:: 04-09-2014 ::
Tenderly, I touched
a garden unattended
that heart a field
bleed the seasons
across those crops
I missed but loved
my dear nature-love
what more of you
that the sun took
my youth and skin
I worked your soil
and sweat soul toil
for you I work
those vast fields
You produce bounty
such graceful crops
and I kiss your soil
and eat your fields
My muscle — your love
:: 04-08-2014 ::
Someday my love
you’ll realize
that rainbows cry
and in the wet cold
you’ll see gold
that it’s a heart’s love
and one day my sweet dear
you’ll realize that
I was the one
and birds and church bells
sing a ringing song
across missed lives
but tomorrow brings
a new story and life
but in this end dear
I lost you my dear one
but church bells ring
and bluebirds sing
and tomorrows may cry
but my heart sings
that sun of love
:: 04-08-2014 ::
So lady my gem
if i should say
what heavenly hymn
would your angel
unfurl her wings
a stimulation
God’s sensation
not too worry
He built it in
and I would take
that perfect bliss
lips need lips
and i have some
Fingers searching
there I find you
between those tears
and your eyes
I am not just love
but Cupid’s son
and I know love
it’s my burning fire
and my testimony
Love is the greatest
that greatest Truth
:: 04-08-2014 ::
Stay, do not leave; please, discover me
I am hidden, shadow skin,
Inviolable soul am I
Steadfast!
Those, who stab and bite my thoughts
it is fear, a half-awakened spirit;
kindness, compassion — accused weakness
young souls be children
a sign of misunderstanding
If not for the stars my knees would bleed
their fire support my weight
Love who born me — my mother, kiss me!
a voice I need and her hugs too — please
tonight I incite the prayer
Come! Come!
Your child is hungry – less
the spirits feed upon that flesh
the world should glimpse a moment
That dreams are true and life a wooden stage
Her wings iridescent blue!
:: 04-08-2014 ::
(c) E.P. ROBLES
a clean sheet that paper
at birth not a scribble
a play yet to unfold
what character, will be?
and narrative to drive
that actor’s soul-stage
a setup from the start
and conflict in the wings
a resolution for life
we, the fictional
take our lines
from the Divine
and genre —
make mine romance
and not this horror
:: 04-08-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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