FIRST morning has broken
like the first thought as
lonely birds sing bringing
love fresh from sun’s womb
Sweet new lit falling light
breaking water from last
evening’s lit-leaf
My mind is as this sweet Light
praising the elation of God’s
recreation of a New Day.
Mourning is broken as this
first morning as black bird
spoken: praise of this day
a new Morning.
Completeness in Love.
:: 12.20.2021 ::
Mi barro son sonrisas
mi barro son mis sonrisas
entonces ella me preguntó
eres probable, e Libra
comiendo mi alma
desde dentro de tu
Imán Corazón: i
pensó y luego escribió
precis de ilusorio
palabras e imperdonable
Consejo que me gravó:
espina de cristal; es cada
pensado en tu mente:
todo comiendo orquídeas
y aliento de ángel de placenta
corrí hacia abajo para poder
confiesa de nuevo! ¡Oye!
todo pensamiento
pasa por tu invaluable
mente.
:: 22.07.2020 ::
HAVE you never
ever walk
-ed the edge of
fields so yellow
they smell of Gold?
–the wheat fields
of Vincent Van Gogh
he was a bastard
to most but greatly
to ‘self’ –>kill
the personality
but never the Art
nor the Soul
:: 04.29.2020 ::
i am peace ~~of love
you are softly whispered
we helped together
to bury me lover i
say then expressed
in touch what no words
were ever born to say
how memories held
together all my life
and now my favorite color
is that –of your eyes
cause my heart is falling
deeply into you all of me
so never change because
you will change me too
so bury me into your
favorite color THOSE OF
YOUR EYES cause my heart
is falling deeply into you
:: 09-16-2015 ::
My love affair so ineffable
surely description falls
as gently as the leaves
Like rich hot chocolate
you cover in color
the ground – a blanket of leaves
Soothing – so active a sound
of trembling acorns
that plunk across the roof —
Life, like the taste of apple
that covers cinnamom sticks…
My farm — this life has tilled
the spirit of a certain few
so touched am I — even thrilled
But no thing comes close
to the apparel of mother nature
on any day — in her autumn regal
::::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 