Tag Archives: #thoughts

January 27, 2024

CALL ME BROKEN

By EPRobles

Oh, speak not of my heart untrue,
Though absence seeks to temper my desire,
As readily I could bid myself adieu
As part from the soul within your fire.
In your bosom lies my dwelling of love:
If I’ve strayed, like threads unraveled, I return,
To the moment, not with time exchanged above,
Yet with my essence, a cleansing urn.
Never think, though frailties course my veins,
That they could mar this sacred trust we share,
To forsake, for naught, your myriad gains,
For you, my rose, my universe is bare.
Within its vast expanse, hear my call,
For nothing exists, save you, my all.

:: 01.26.2024 ::

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January 26, 2024

LOVE IS TOO YOUNG TO KNOW WHAT CONSCIENCE IS

By EPRobles

Is love too young to know what CONSCIENCE is
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.

“The Little Love-God Lying.”

:: 01.26.2024 ::

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January 23, 2024

THE CANVAS OF TIME

By EPRobles

THE SKIN is prominent
within all of Life

Whose dippy hands cross rhyme
within a strange water
called Time

/ as we are all /

nothing / and memories that flow___

In the tapestry of moments, we weave
Threads of laughter and tears, perceive
The dance of shadows in the mind
A kaleidoscope of memories we find

Yet, within this vast expanse of recall
Fragments of existence, both big and small
Nothing but echoes in the grand design
Whispers of a fleeting, ephemeral sign

The hands of Time dip in the waters deep
Creating ripples where memories sleep

An intricate dance of joy and strife
Etched upon the canvas of Life

And as we navigate this transient sea
Our skin, a vessel of identity

In the tapestry, we play our part
A symphony of the soul, a work of art.

:: 01.23.2024 ::

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January 23, 2024

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

By EPRobles

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

and which came first?
syllable or the sound
of pain?
what…did you say?
they ARE the same
whether uttered or
spoken or eventually
written — all the same!

must a glyph truly obtain
a sense of distinction?

it is now its own.

:: 07.14.2020 ::

Notes for the Students:

THIS POEM explores the interconnectedness of language, sound, and emotion. The poet contemplates the origin of words and the relationship between syllables and the expression of pain. The question of which came first, the syllable or the sound of pain, reflects on the primal and innate nature of language as a means of conveying human experience.

The repetition of the phrase “they ARE the same” emphasizes the unity of spoken and written language, suggesting that the essence of expression remains constant across different forms. The poem questions the necessity for a glyph (a written symbol) to have a distinct meaning, implying that language evolves organically and may not always follow rigid rules.

The final lines, “it is now its own,” suggest a sense of independence and self-contained identity for language. This could be interpreted as an acknowledgment of the power of language to shape its own meaning and significance over time.

Overall, the poem invites readers to reflect on the mysterious and evolving nature of language, emphasizing its ability to capture and convey complex emotions and experiences.

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January 23, 2024

Like Flying Within Fog

By EPRobles

He loved to walk the bank,
within gray dawn.

All the lake’s waking
riding on the morning mist.

Suggesting.

All his stories,
a lifetime to collect.

No one else could know.
Surely he was on to
something he could show.

He’d always found,
an ease, a release
drifting within the fog.

A place where ideas
could break free.

:: 01.22.2024 ::

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January 23, 2024

TRANSPARENT SOCIETY

By EPRobles

Upon the vast expanse of blank parchment,
Unspoiled slabs of molding clay,
They lay unfolded before me,
As her earthly form once did sway.

The quintet of horizons,
Whirled in orbit around her soul,
As the globe revolves in homage,
To the radiant, golden sun’s control.

Yet the air I once inhaled,
Now has veered a different course,
And all that I bestowed upon her,
Contained the essence of my life’s discourse.

Oh, what wisdom I imparted,
She adorned as her attire,
Yet now my hands, embittered,
Rub against the clouds entire.

In the realm of what was everything,
Beneath the shadows, my hands do strive,
And the images once vivid,
Now drenched in hues of somber black arrive.

A stroll amidst the world outside,
Enveloped by the sounds of children’s play,
Their laughter echoes in the air,
Yet my soul bears a searing dismay.

Twisted thoughts, they dance and twirl,
A carousel within my mind,
I’m spinning, spinning ceaselessly,
As the sun sinks, leaving me behind.

Now my hands, they gently cradle,
Fragments of shattered glass,
Of what was once my universe,
Now diminished, a fading mass.

The images, once vibrant,
Now painted in the darkest ink,
A tapestry of love gone awry,
Turned my world to shades of black, I think.

All that was, has now departed,
A canvas tattooed with despair,
Every glimpse, every aspect,
Marked with the echoes of a love that’s rare.

In the tapestry of time,
A future where you’ll shine,
A celestial being in another’s sky,
But why, oh why, can’t that sky be mine?

[“The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.” – Ezra Pound]

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December 26, 2023

ALL OUR LOVE

By EPRobles

Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,

Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.

As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*

*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!

:: 12.25.2023 ::

Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,

Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.

As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*

*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!

:: 12.25.2023 ::

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December 23, 2023

WHERE MOTHS MEET MENISCUS

By EPRobles

In chambers dim, where shadows weave,
My mirrored self I dare perceive.
Pink roses bloom, a painted guise,
While feathered thoughts take silent flight.

My tongue, a tempest, words like wind,
To whirl and toss the soul within.
To swim in depths where echoes call,
Unfettered feet on marble sprawl.

A mermaid’s sigh, a whispered plea,
To breathe, to see, eternally.
The headlights dim, the vision nears,
Of hands outstretched, assuaging fears.

Less, I craved, from twilight’s hold,
Than waters mingled, stories told.
One night, a tapestry complete,
A whisper spun in slumber’s sheet.

But eyes unflinching, hearts unknown,
No answering pulse to claim my own.
The mirrored pond, a frozen scene,
Reflects the moon, where women convene.

Men, enigmas cloaked in night,
Like roots that twist in hidden light.
The house once shared, a severed stem,
From continents of black and white condemn.

Unmoored, we drift, in yearning’s thrall,
Then scatter, like lashes in the fall.
My own, like pollen, ether frail,
Revealing truth, a single veil.

Yet, codex locked, a name takes flight,
A searing brand, defying blight.
Life, a quick waltz with disdained breath,
The moon a mirror, mocking death.

Before the wind, before the end,
A voice of dreams, where shadows bend.
The garden slumbers, beasts unfed,
Its lights extinguished, hopes unshed.

His women, ghosts in sterile white,
No feast of senses, pure of light.

Within this introspection’s well,
A teardrop falls, the story’s spell.
Unspoken words, like embers cold,
In mirrored fragments, hearts unfold.

So let me dwell in this retreat,
Where Dickinson’s whispers softly meet.
With introspective gaze, I trace,
The paths of yearning, etched in space.

:: 12.22.2023 ::

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December 14, 2023

THE LOVER’S CRY

By EPRobles

A draught of sorrow, Siren-tears refined,
From depths within, where shadows darkly brood,
Applied to Hope, a bitter salve to bind,
And Fear, a tonic, where Desire had wooed.

What blunders danced within my blinded heart,
While bliss, a mirage, shimmered in the sun!
My eyes, unmoored, played a delirious part
In fevered dreams, a battle lost and won.

Yet, pain’s embrace unlocks a precious truth,
That evil’s kiss refines the good we knew,
And Love, reborn from ruins of uncouth Desire,
Ascends renewed, more potent, ever true.

So humbled, to my quiet I return,
Enriched by loss, a profit thrice the cost,
And find, in ashes, lessons yet to learn,
A purer flame, where heartache loved the most.

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December 13, 2023

SHINING EYES

By EPRobles

MY eyes shine
like love
Hey you big Star
come here
Hey you big heart
climb me
(shelter for two)
it’s sex and summer
loving as God loves
it’s no crime to move
inside of you
I shake (it’s a tool /
device \ i tried (look up
toward the skies but my
eyes burn)

\i thank God for the music
inside my head — matches
the feeling inside your skin______
no confusion __ | it’s summer
inside my love and how i love you
I think God is moving this time
it’s no misunderstanding …
(i move and love you)
I move and look up at the skies
seeing all of you.

:: 12.12.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

The poem “Shining Eyes” by the imagined Nobel laureate poet is a sensual and passionate exploration of love, nature, and spirituality. The poet employs vivid imagery and emotive language to convey a profound connection between the speaker and their beloved, intertwining themes of love, nature, and divine presence.

The title, “Shining Eyes,” suggests a radiant and intense emotion, immediately drawing attention to the significance of the speaker’s gaze. The repetition of “My eyes shine like love” emphasizes the emotional intensity, equating the brightness of the eyes with the luminosity of love itself.

The poem then addresses both a celestial entity and a metaphorical “big heart,” inviting them to join in a shared experience. The imagery of a “shelter for two” creates an intimate and private space for the lovers, suggesting a profound connection that extends beyond the physical.

The lines “it’s sex and summer / loving as God loves” introduce a sensual and spiritual dimension to the poem. The juxtaposition of physical intimacy with the divine suggests that the act of love is sacred and transcendent. The poet seems to assert that the celebration of physical desire is not only natural but also aligned with a higher, spiritual purpose.

The parenthetical expression “(it’s a tool / device)” adds a layer of complexity, perhaps suggesting that love and sexuality can be seen as instruments or mechanisms for connection and understanding.

The speaker’s gaze toward the skies, despite the burning eyes, may symbolize a quest for transcendence or a connection with something greater than themselves. The invocation of God and gratitude for the music inside the poet’s head further reinforces the spiritual undertones of the poem.

The use of ellipses and dashes in “no confusion __ | it’s summer” creates a pause, allowing readers to reflect on the significance of the season and its metaphorical association with the warmth of love. The repetition of “I move and love you” emphasizes the dynamic nature of the speaker’s emotions and actions.

In the concluding lines, the poet suggests a profound unity with the beloved, seeing “all of you” when looking up at the skies. This line could symbolize a sense of completeness, as if the act of love has connected the speaker not only with the beloved but with the entire universe.

Overall, the poem “Shining Eyes” combines sensuality, spirituality, and a celebration of nature to create a rich tapestry of emotions and experiences. The poet’s ability to weave together these themes with evocative language contributes to the poem’s depth and resonance.

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