Tag Archives: #life

February 6, 2024

GHUILGUL

By EPRobles

WE are all victims of humanity

to each a personal defeat

fallen upon our knees

Singing praise while

our blood drains ~

We accept this reality

while upon this heavenly rock

amnesia prevails / forgetting

what are we \ we accuse fantasy

while standing upon rock.

:: 02.05.2024 ::

Notes:

The depth of emotion and existential reflection conveyed in my poem titled “Ghuilgul” reflects where I am now in Life.

My use of succinct and evocative language contributes to the contemplative atmosphere, exploring themes of human vulnerability and the collective experience of suffering.

The opening lines, “WE are all victims of humanity / To each a personal defeat,” immediately draw attention to the shared struggle of being human.

The imagery of falling to one’s knees and the juxtaposition with singing praise while blood drains suggest a complex interplay between vulnerability, sacrifice, and a sense of duty or devotion.

The phrase “We accept this reality” encapsulates a resigned acknowledgment of the human condition, emphasizing the inevitability of facing challenges and defeats. The reference to a “heavenly rock” introduces a spiritual or cosmic dimension, adding depth to the existential contemplation within the poem.

The use of unconventional formatting, such as slashes and backslashes, adds a visual and rhythmic element to the poem, enhancing its artistic and abstract qualities. If you have ever been a reader of me you would know this. The repetition of the phrase “while standing upon rock” creates a circular structure, emphasizing the cyclical nature of human experience and the enduring challenges faced by individuals and society.

The title “Ghuilgul” adds a mysterious and enigmatic quality to the poem, inviting readers to explore its meaning and connections to the themes presented.

“Ghuilgul” stands as a thought-provoking and introspective piece that captures the complexity of the human experience and explores existential questions with a poetic grace that resonates with the depth and nuance expected from eprobles.

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January 31, 2024

THE GREATEST SMILE

By EPRobles

The greatest smile is DEATH.

How welcomed. The eternal embrace!

But how i belong here — beyond the

world’s end _ no longer human.

i embrace ~ with the broken!

:: 01.31.2024 ::

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January 30, 2024

POETIC ODYSSEY

By EPRobles

Upon the inside of my dreams
There was no wind when i took
the watch across the seas

& when the ocean withdrew breath
and waves white-capped
i saw clouds of glass

within amora my heart said
‘roll over, roll over.’
how i had awaited restlessly

Upon the opal glass finally
talking sweet /within my ear,
the sound so strange, ‘mistral,
mistral…’ \

winds_____close your eyes again
my gentle breathing giant.

:: 01.29.2024 ::

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January 27, 2024

CALL ME BROKEN

By EPRobles

Oh, speak not of my heart untrue,
Though absence seeks to temper my desire,
As readily I could bid myself adieu
As part from the soul within your fire.
In your bosom lies my dwelling of love:
If I’ve strayed, like threads unraveled, I return,
To the moment, not with time exchanged above,
Yet with my essence, a cleansing urn.
Never think, though frailties course my veins,
That they could mar this sacred trust we share,
To forsake, for naught, your myriad gains,
For you, my rose, my universe is bare.
Within its vast expanse, hear my call,
For nothing exists, save you, my all.

:: 01.26.2024 ::

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January 23, 2024

THE CANVAS OF TIME

By EPRobles

THE SKIN is prominent
within all of Life

Whose dippy hands cross rhyme
within a strange water
called Time

/ as we are all /

nothing / and memories that flow___

In the tapestry of moments, we weave
Threads of laughter and tears, perceive
The dance of shadows in the mind
A kaleidoscope of memories we find

Yet, within this vast expanse of recall
Fragments of existence, both big and small
Nothing but echoes in the grand design
Whispers of a fleeting, ephemeral sign

The hands of Time dip in the waters deep
Creating ripples where memories sleep

An intricate dance of joy and strife
Etched upon the canvas of Life

And as we navigate this transient sea
Our skin, a vessel of identity

In the tapestry, we play our part
A symphony of the soul, a work of art.

:: 01.23.2024 ::

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January 23, 2024

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

By EPRobles

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

and which came first?
syllable or the sound
of pain?
what…did you say?
they ARE the same
whether uttered or
spoken or eventually
written — all the same!

must a glyph truly obtain
a sense of distinction?

it is now its own.

:: 07.14.2020 ::

Notes for the Students:

THIS POEM explores the interconnectedness of language, sound, and emotion. The poet contemplates the origin of words and the relationship between syllables and the expression of pain. The question of which came first, the syllable or the sound of pain, reflects on the primal and innate nature of language as a means of conveying human experience.

The repetition of the phrase “they ARE the same” emphasizes the unity of spoken and written language, suggesting that the essence of expression remains constant across different forms. The poem questions the necessity for a glyph (a written symbol) to have a distinct meaning, implying that language evolves organically and may not always follow rigid rules.

The final lines, “it is now its own,” suggest a sense of independence and self-contained identity for language. This could be interpreted as an acknowledgment of the power of language to shape its own meaning and significance over time.

Overall, the poem invites readers to reflect on the mysterious and evolving nature of language, emphasizing its ability to capture and convey complex emotions and experiences.

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January 23, 2024

Like Flying Within Fog

By EPRobles

He loved to walk the bank,
within gray dawn.

All the lake’s waking
riding on the morning mist.

Suggesting.

All his stories,
a lifetime to collect.

No one else could know.
Surely he was on to
something he could show.

He’d always found,
an ease, a release
drifting within the fog.

A place where ideas
could break free.

:: 01.22.2024 ::

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January 23, 2024

TRANSPARENT SOCIETY

By EPRobles

Upon the vast expanse of blank parchment,
Unspoiled slabs of molding clay,
They lay unfolded before me,
As her earthly form once did sway.

The quintet of horizons,
Whirled in orbit around her soul,
As the globe revolves in homage,
To the radiant, golden sun’s control.

Yet the air I once inhaled,
Now has veered a different course,
And all that I bestowed upon her,
Contained the essence of my life’s discourse.

Oh, what wisdom I imparted,
She adorned as her attire,
Yet now my hands, embittered,
Rub against the clouds entire.

In the realm of what was everything,
Beneath the shadows, my hands do strive,
And the images once vivid,
Now drenched in hues of somber black arrive.

A stroll amidst the world outside,
Enveloped by the sounds of children’s play,
Their laughter echoes in the air,
Yet my soul bears a searing dismay.

Twisted thoughts, they dance and twirl,
A carousel within my mind,
I’m spinning, spinning ceaselessly,
As the sun sinks, leaving me behind.

Now my hands, they gently cradle,
Fragments of shattered glass,
Of what was once my universe,
Now diminished, a fading mass.

The images, once vibrant,
Now painted in the darkest ink,
A tapestry of love gone awry,
Turned my world to shades of black, I think.

All that was, has now departed,
A canvas tattooed with despair,
Every glimpse, every aspect,
Marked with the echoes of a love that’s rare.

In the tapestry of time,
A future where you’ll shine,
A celestial being in another’s sky,
But why, oh why, can’t that sky be mine?

[“The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.” – Ezra Pound]

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January 21, 2024

BROKEN SHARDS OF LOVE

By EPRobles

I look at the sun — in my dreams
i am a TRAVELING gentleman
into the deep sees

: \ ;/

If by some some years you heard
it was clear ooh — ooooh

Oooh — baby bebe bebe ooooh!

I saw your love (heart) i'[m crying

as i am substrate –= love and feeling

oooooh – love | A rose of love and red
leaves no trace — i will return : \
i touch KASMIRE | OH father,
dead. like our wife / my mother \ how
i learned your mistakes _.

\In the realm of the mind’s turmoil, the dance with mental illness,
the eccentricity that whispers of madness, may appear as a spectacle
when observed from afar, yet the mirth fades when experienced within.

Picture your most haunting nightmare, let it linger in your thoughts.
Now, envision a scenario where awakening is elusive, for you are already
ensconced in the wakefulness of the perpetual dream. Those fantastical notions
that weave coherence in the realm of slumber start to intertwine with waking reality.

I sense your curiosity, the yearning to decipher if my journey mirrors such a narrative.
However, my revelation shall remain veiled for now; forgive my reticence, as our acquaintance is but in its nascent stage.

Should apprehension whisper in the recesses of your mind, casting shadows
upon your countenance, there’s a subtle unease that graces your features.

Ah, I comprehend. You ponder whether my quest to “awaken” might incite a descent into madness,
a trepidation that precedes the revelation of truth. Well, let me assure you, for some,
that is the path untrodden, but not for those who find solace in my company. The journey to “awakening” need not be accompanied by the tumult of psychosis. Yet, I am transparent with you – the aftermath of a “nervous breakdown” renders the mind fragile, a state undesirable, I assure you. The labyrinth of thoughts can lead one astray, inflicting years of tumult from which recovery proves elusive. It can sever ties with those cherished, those held dear. I implore you to steer clear of such perils, especially you, with your endearing nature. I find you delightful, and in our journey together, certain guidelines must be etched, for I must discern when your presence graces our shared realm…

:: 01.21.2024 ::

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January 18, 2024

ODE ON A GRECIAN URN

By EPRobles

WHEN I WAS A LITTLE boy

i knew no wisdom
i knew no hate
i knew no lies

WHEN I GREW UP

i understood history
i understood love
i understood truth

NOW AS I AM DYING

i know a lot will change
i know the world will be busy
i know my appointments are unanswered

POST-LIVE REVELATION

How so many live for the sake of beauty
How so many quietly die for martyrdom
How so many understand Ode on a Grecian Urn

:: 01.17.2024 ::

Poet’s Notes:

This poem, titled “LIFE AS A BEAUTIFUL SOUL,” explores the journey of life from childhood innocence to mature understanding and reflection on the complexities of existence. The structure of the poem is divided into three distinct phases: childhood, adulthood, and the contemplation of mortality.

In the first stanza, the speaker reminisces about their childhood, portraying a time of innocence and purity. The use of lowercase letters and short, straightforward lines reflects the simplicity of a child’s perspective. The absence of wisdom, hate, and lies in this stage suggests a state of blissful ignorance.

The second stanza marks the transition to adulthood, where the speaker claims to have gained a deeper understanding of history, love, and truth. This indicates the inevitable acquisition of knowledge and experience as one grows older. The use of “understood” implies a level of comprehension and awareness that comes with maturity.

The third stanza takes a poignant turn as the speaker reflects on the imminent end of life. The awareness of impending change, the busy world, and unanswered appointments conveys a sense of urgency and the fleeting nature of time. The speaker’s acknowledgment of these impending changes adds a layer of reflection on the transience of life.

The final stanza, titled “POST-LIVE REVELATION,” delves into broader themes. It contemplates how many people live for the sake of beauty, suggesting the pursuit of aesthetic experiences and appreciation. The mention of quietly dying for martyrdom adds a somber note, hinting at sacrifice and devotion. The reference to “Ode on a Grecian Urn” by John Keats suggests a connection to art, beauty, and the timeless nature of artistic expression.

Overall, the poem encapsulates the universal journey of life, from innocence to wisdom, with a contemplative gaze upon mortality and broader reflections on beauty, sacrifice, and the enduring impact of art. The use of concise and straightforward language contributes to the poem’s accessibility and emotional resonance.

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