THERE are soft fields which
no mind has painted
but hearts (which are really
always not human) run through
the tall grass as brushed nudes
and life is short but tall canvases
which where-by and bye our (h(e))ARTS
give some meaning.
And there is a sky so high
as deep as Soul erasing ignorance
from all minds inflamed by the minor
length of our traveled roads.
Is it not always short; the hello, goodbye,
love, hate and
a burning fire called Life!
:: 07-25-2015 ::
your ‘About Me’ touched me profoundly so! This is for you!
Link: https://erobles1963.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/dreaming-writer-soul/
OH ME! The humble mute of stupidity
in my emotional turmoil I spew
senseless verbiage of love and toil
and common disease of social ill
But truthfully I say to you all
I am nothing more than a ghost
who walks amongst the beautiful
Forgive me, if you can I pray
for my arrogance and misplaced deeds
:::::
I SAW an older soul today — by grace
a withered hand across the face
and lines that told stories of chance
And in the eye of the ancient one
a glimmer of youth betrayed such age
the soul is ageless beyond congeniality
Must we all be dead before we’re born
As pity holds no truth against reality
We sour in youth and sweeten with time
::::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 