Tag Archives: #poem
i wrote a poem inside the sun today
and though my words are late it is
so ordinary, girl. and who is to blame
and love was her name and not so
ordinary was her heart — for a long
what time it took to bloom but a field
waiting like a lovely melody // everyone
can sing and who’s to blame? i waited
so long to see a bloom of love and life
no one to blame for the hearts that never
bleed into one from two and like a word
that rhymes and love was her name and
we tripped the light and danced until June
and the merry-go-round never made a sound
and so maybe we were moving too fast
catching all the words but never knew
“God, I miss this girl” to be closer
to her than my own heart beats within me
i wrote a poem inside my soul today
and i never knew her but loved her name
and though my words are late it is so
ordinary, if I can’t have her i’ll do
without her until the end of time
just to say, “i love you”
:: 12202015 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #i'm so happy, #love, #lovers, #poem, #poetry, #words | posted in Uncategorized
sweet fields of tender lies
so softly shining above me
a bird singing in a moonbeam
tears in eyes and dry lips
wishing while alone
i am so blue i see
others talk about god
but never my own – a pity
so sweet is He he says
‘leave all your worries
behind you’
a sweet soliloquy for
my heart and all tomorrows
:: 09-04-2015 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #poem, #poetry, #soliloquy, #thoughts, #words, #writing | posted in #soliloquy, #thoughts, #words, #writing
THE penny in the gutter
saw me ; nothing more exactly
terrible than
throwing opportunity away.
one lost by holes in a pocket;
than like despair which impersonates
a lonely street: me || the walls ||
my heart that lived, asks: “should
mind overhear and explain “Who?” —
the silence,knowing,feeling,SAYing
“do WE pick up the penny within the
gutter?” and then maybe hugging a
lonely dying destitute soul within
a park: a penny for your thoughts ~
for your hearts, for your soul
:: 07-09-2015 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #penny, #poem, #poetry, #souls, #thoughts, #writers | posted in #penny, #souls, #thoughts, #writers
I loved it when alive
and now so cold.
I crave it more,
to be contented
just like me;
if just a breath
it speaks i should
love it like
when it lived.
Until the grave
it buried lay,
in it’s dreams,
and all my tears
i have the key
to unlock the life
that lives in me.
It lives within
a drop of tear.
If I may have it
when it’s dead,
I crave it more
if it speaks.
I should love it
like when it lived.
:: 11-11-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #death, #life, #lost, #love, #perfection, #poem, #poet, #poetry | posted in #death, #life, #lost, #love, #perfection, #poet
“i am ugly but i dream”
said the toad.
“And I am wings,
but just butterfly”
said the forest princess.
And the dream with wings
flew toward the morning glory,
and all her dew;
and nothing could deny
the forest bloomed
in a marriage of
hope and despair!
:: 10-28-2014 :
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #dream, #life, #love, #nature, #poem, #poetry, #surrealism | posted in #abstract, #dream, #life, #love, #nature, #surrealism
did you see! my kiss
in that breeze
maybe you saw
a butterfly-heart
wet and brilliant
flutter by
flutter heart
what season of love
my sun-bliss kiss
upon tiny lips
tulips to kiss!
that butterfly heart
a summer’s dream too
:: 04-22-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #eternal, #love, #passion, #poem, #poetry, #romance, #writers | posted in Beauty, Love, Lust, Passion, Poetry, Romance
life is a stranger in boots
snake skin patterns moving
through wet night streets
and that blooming howl
on Bourbon Street cuts through
what’s left of your dark soul
Jazz notes falling into pieces
across reflective night streets
And when you’re strangely happy
you know you’re snake skin too
And when you’re deranged beneath
moss trees on a pirogue floating
a night spent in LaLaurie Mansion
will make the best
of other-worldly friends
life is a stranger in boots
and snake patterns know the moves
a cascading undulating twist
through Mississippi mud too
Marie Delphine LaLaurie loves you
She will invite you to stay a night
and that slave you become is ghostly
a torture for a slice of social life
And the mobs outraged == she fled
or maybe not…the moss knows
:: 04-22-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #New Orleans, #poem, #poetry, #voodoo | posted in Death, Fear, Horror, Life, Paranormal, Poetry
life is a stranger in boots
snake skin patterns moving
through wet night streets
and that blooming howl
on Bourbon Street cuts through
what’s left of your dark soul
Jazz notes falling into pieces
across reflective night streets
And when you’re strangely happy
you know you’re snake skin too
And when you’re deranged beneath
moss trees on a pirogue floating
a night spent in LaLaurie Mansion
makes the best of other-worldly friends
Life is a stranger in boots
and snake patterns know the moves
a cascading undulating twist
through Mississippi mud too
Marie Delphine LaLaurie loves you
She will invite you to stay a night
and that slave you become is ghostly
a torture for a slice of social life
And the mobs outraged == she fled
or maybe not…the moss knows
:: 04-22-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #coven, #evil, #horror, #Louisiana, #macabre, #Marie Delphine LaLaurie, #New Orleans, #poem, #poetry, #serial killer | posted in Death, Fear, Horror, Poetry
What rivers I cry
blue veins I swim
one upon your eye
backstroke into dreams
a vision burns there
and the angels blew
a kiss that moves
mountains and storks
baby breath paints
pink flamingos dance
a ghost in the closet
panhandled my pocket
i coughed up a heart
so bruised and purple
the medics applied candy
and sugar lips too
I’m crying! Crying!
Madness dance geeks
and tortoise princess
A smell of summer dress
and that skin so ghost
Emily you ran away
before I was born
My joker – feminine spirit
I know where you are
ingrained within my soul
:: 04-13-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #Emily Dickinson, #greatest poet, #in love, #poem, #poetry, #surrealism | posted in Art, Beauty, Death, Fantasy, Love, Passion, Poetry, Surrealism
TODAY I saw creation
in that act of submission
with my human hands
a crafted answer
— did I do
not of God-breath
or cosmic fire-brew
but through a passion
deeply–passion dew
my works of art, live!
a life longer than my own
my love, to you I give
what is love if not art
:: 04-13-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #art, #artistic, #love, #poem, #poetry | posted in Art, Beauty, Creation, Love, Passion, Poetry
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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