Tag Archives: #seasons

WHAT IS LOVE THAT LOVE DOES?

WHAT is love that love does?
Oh n’ver dies!

Shall by choice or cupid’s whim?
Our hearts decidedly care thou
art more lovely than itself as Life.

As when and then everywhere as rough winds
change life as furious seasons may,
as processional change touch brilliant stars
and as summer’s lease hath too kindly
memories of love without losing.

To be half a part of what life gave
this by chance or heaven’s course
untrimm’d; what o’ love is love
that love does?

oh n’ver dies!

:: 10.05.2021 ::


LOVE IS A SEASON

So love! Sow love!
All the greatness
we see in expansive
hearts and blue skies
my sweet love!
That short potential
stir in eyes;
that storm of heart
is the eclat of hungry
souls ~~ when thinking
a right to be whole
may only smell roses
and all seasons of spirit
chashed by imperial officers
of a hidden universe:
so love! sow love!
That your hands are within
mine makes me whole!

:: 07-01-2015 ::


LIVING IS FOR THOSE

Image
(c) E.P. Robles 2011

And when did you forget
living is for those
that trust feelings

      and shed a tear or two
      the fields are dry
      and the crows cry

     scare be that heart
           a husk bleached bone
      one never owned

     it is the end of winter
     and I fear your Spring
     more than late in coming

:: 02-05-2014 ::


FRAGRANT SPRING

Piece_No_03-110210-MOD-Visual Perfume

(c) E.P. Robles 2013

 

DO you see the gentle push…
of fragrant Spring?
She stepped aside a time ago
politely granting wind and snow
crystal ice and dusting white

Oh how I love and miss you so!

Come to me elegant season
and I pray you do not forget
to wear your dress of flowers
and lipstick the tinge of sun…
the brilliant blue sky within your eyes

:: 01-25-2014 ::


FALLS IN LOVE

My love affair so ineffable
surely description falls
as gently as the leaves

Like rich hot chocolate
you cover in color
the ground – a blanket of leaves

Soothing – so active a sound
of trembling acorns
that plunk across the roof —

Life, like the taste of apple
that covers cinnamom sticks…

My farm — this life has tilled
the spirit of a certain few
so touched am I — even thrilled

But no thing comes close
to the apparel of mother nature
on any day — in her autumn regal
::::