i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!
To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life
It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).
14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.
:: 12.24.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #death, #hearts, #ink, #life, #love, #paper, #pen, #pencil, #poetry, #romance, #skin, #thoughts, #wonderful, #writers | posted in #1800s, #abstract, #aching, #analogies, #confession, #depression, #fascination, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets, #prose
it was 1493 when i, the little boy, ventured across
the hills toward Anchiano.
there i was found being thirsty and asked an old
man for water. He was Leonardo da vinci — he
said. My father taught me how to fight: my mother,
how to be gracious for a kind gesture.
i had never met a soul as him and he showed me
a painting and some notes. Asked if I was schooled.
No. Just in life to survive i replied.
Thanking him i left behind a remarkable
soul.
:: 07.25.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #ancient, #da vinci, #davinci, #death, #ink, #inventor, #life, #memories, #painter, #paper, #pencil, #prose, #rocks, #soul, #spirits | posted in #a hundred poems, #abstract
no need
for military solutions/police
::please oh please::
the holy church ___
if we say this first, ”
if i ever lost faith within Life
i lose faith in YOU
oh yeah, within you & me FAITH
so say this and much worse
we drink the water of Life
(oh look oh there she goes
i stared within a greatest sunshine)
no need
for poets, artists nor me —
I closed my eyes to EXIST.
:: 07.16.2020 ::
no need to eat politicians
if the world has faith in
dough
Leave a comment | tags: #baby, #brain, #forever, #glow, #heaven, #ink, #my head, #pencil, #poetry, #prose, #walls, #youth | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #abuse, #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #alter, #aphasia, #Apocalypse, #apocalyptic, #bees, #Beethoven
LOVE my love never dies
sometimes weak but you keep
a fire lit between us
In the night such a might
between us
in the night such strength
bequeath us
such delight the arrow
of Cupid binds us
as one
Never leave but believe
such a gift so rare
is Our Love.
:: ~~ ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #flowers, #life, #love, #paper, #pencil, #sun, #wood | posted in #abstract, #life, #love, #poetry, #poets, #words
E.P. Robles | Poetry 