So you took, to run
across the dandalion
when we broke up.
i saw the color
like fire beneath
the path of your feet
i took the paint
of your pain,
and drew you:
a summer’s day
of lovely people
kissing, laughing.
So sweet, you – lips!
i never knew angel,
until i met you.
And softly i live,
in that memory.
So soon we left
the impossible room
of a great life,
but i still paint you
with the morning’s light.
Your portrait —
always a part of me
:: 10-25-2014 ::
AND you, my strange brilliant
flower of loveAndColor
what HipLip my true desire!
Like fermented moonlight
the drunkness, my heart.
And rolling upon and o’er
the banks of my soulRiver,
we too, drinkers of the fog!
And each starlit candle
above the miracle-love,
we two, within our fog!
The cherub lay moist
against our spirit’s love.
Oh my lover which I love,
like yellow globes,
burning in this night!
Forgive the trespass
of my eager-needing heart!
I might of born-be sorrowful
heart —
but our crowns of gold
keep sight upon our souls
:: 10-24-2014 ::
I have fornicated with ego
it was by the trees one day
where stood the divine light
and we admired each soul,
us — tall standing trunks
with nature and her lusty gown
I fell in love with the leaf
and She with me — my brow,
the tree and me
and I saw a golden ring
of twig and grass by my soul
it was upon the tree, a nest.
And the tiny beak of hunger
chirped and chipped away
my ego this day.
I walk in life and by path
through the heart of love,
the nature trail aside my soul
:: 10-23-2014 ::
I apologized as you tripped
into the summer’s flowerBed
to retrieve you from buttercups
I pressed your gown down
from above it reached the up!
And the laughter shared by us!
Me, just a poet and you the words.
I assumed cotton paper that day
along with jewellery quarter’s
best dip-pen ink could help me say
“This day is/will always be my best’,
:: 10-23-2014 ::
and I die(d) “thanking my word: so long ago”
“would you; yes you would”
“and, everything, everything…”
“if you try to breath…”
“I choke upon the flesh of my dying skin…”
“you used to be a little boy”
“…and everything, tries — and I choke believing,”
“do you?”
“and every feather, petal, leaf, and heart,
speaks (cry) loving (hugs)
M E
:: 10-22-2014 ::
My lady, the gentle nature
of your grace did smitten
softly all my sensibility!
In a word — impossibility!
The shift and stockings,
and kerchief and shoes!
What hair and mittens
and pockets and stays —
my adoration for your
pin ball and scissor clip too!
My adoration for you
the loveliest woman!
:: 10-21-2014 ::
If you saw a world
made of love
would the light
destroy your eyes
even if the heart
rejoiced in all
greatness by God
And all the dead
arisen by Grace
to meet loved ones
would the light
destroy your heart
Not if I was one,
like a pebble
in a cold river,
getting by,
by the eddies
of life’s currents
Oh, the heartache
and greatness
just the tip
of a butterfly wing
and the sky above
reaches out to me
And the one who
sold all of this
just a lie —
the price of a soul
all for His glory,
silver for blood.
The Mystery of His Glory.
:: 10-20-2014 ::
The enormous crowd of my secret thoughts
knocked upon the door-soul of my heart
Just today, absent any butler
I had to answer — I saw his coattails
fleeing summer that was my butler.
And the face of the door smiled
but the knob too hot to hold
and my feet a pool of cold sweat
knowing my thoughts that revisit today.
I only had — wished I had, a new thought
but could only feel the deepening dread.
And the door opened…
:: 10-20-2014 ::
We are comforted within my skin
the pillow-clouds of revelation,
by self and ‘me’ are easy on us.
The ugly scars of life my lips.
The bruised heart my portrait
for the blooming fields of love.
We are comforting within this skin.
The hands calloused by lying souls,
my self and ‘we’ are this grip,
that no strongest wind can break.
We are the verified self.
:: 10-20-2014 ::
I my dear
only one
a disappointment
is my f e ar
the Me of my own
just what you see
(and I judge not
by eye) but mostly
others do
not understand
just a pebble
and lesser
if a grain of
indescribable
something
Let just be
the crown jewel
a gem never
touched by others
it makes artThing
and weeping hearts
:: 10-18-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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