MANY times more than twice have I seen
the ghosts of family, friends and then…
some whose faces that I did not know
Quaintly, with ethereal elegance they are
silky touch, feather breath, and opal eye
Outside of the tick-tock of father time
It is most inappropriate to ask of them
to state their business or intended pleasure
extend your politeness over scorn I say
//–//
If by wind love blows this way
I choose to sway into bliss this day
and miss the hassel of life
And if fear betrays my path
muster an angel whose strength
portrays my great passion
For life and love
and the woman adored
by my heart forever more
— // —
The bed, a crime scene of sorts
a passion spilled in sweat
Willingly i go – to my death
He comes to me in the night
a sword sharpened by lust
and thrusts it into my soul
Mother, I’m ready to come home
but the line between pain & pleasure
is small compared to the pleasant death
The coroner will say an untimely passing
but my murderous lover knew the timing
each plunge of his knife ever deeper.
— // —
You have a wonderful smile…
atomic…The light of a sunset
before it explodes across the horizon
::::
Quito sing the song of my heart!
Between your mountain ranges
the air is light — so high you are!
I watch the lights at night’s fall
Basillica Del Voto in all her grandeur
Sweet Ecuador holds you so dear!
You were born upon the ruins
of an ancient Inca city
I lay my soul at your feet
Sing to me my Andean highlands
Kiss me with your ancient lore
dust my lips — so gently close my eyes
::::
Compassion is a natural extension of our understanding and wisdom.
With true wisdom we grow more compassionate for the people we meet.
And with compassion we ourselves grow wiser.
::::
To thee I say:
What is the most beautiful poem
that kindles your heart so brightly
for mine heart surely knows
what brings the morning light
and the sing-song of birds
Before me I clearly see such prose
your heart, face and soul
Is thoust most beautiful poem
::::
I am so tired of the physical
I want to reach inside your skull
And kiss the soul that stares
back at me — and understands
Just hush and take my hand
I am the drug
that will contract —
the gulf between your animal and soul
::::
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
::::
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
 | Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
| EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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