Tag Archives: #writing

In Search of You

I yearn for your lips, your voice, your hair,
Quietly and intensely craving as I wander the streets.
Food doesn’t satisfy me; mornings disrupt my thoughts,
All day I search for the rhythm of your footsteps.

I ache for your infectious laugh,
Your hands with a deep, earthy hue,
Longing for the smoothness of your fingernails,
I want to feel your skin like a ripe almond.

I want to bask in the sunlight that dances on your beautiful body,
The bold shape of your confident face,
I want to savor the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes,

And I wander restlessly, craving the twilight,
Searching for you, for your passionate heart,
Like a predator in the desolate plains of Quitratue.


The Enchanting Hope

Like a fragile hope’s whisper,
from a butterfly’s fleeting kiss,
a golden shroud enfolds my heart,
while the nightingale slumbers on,
beneath the candor of lilies in twilight’s grasp.

Ambergris and the yearnings of innocence,
Pathways entwined in whispered waltzes,
Horizons touched by tearful dew,
Can you feel the warmth within your breast?

Oh, night’s lament! Blue depths of starry gloom!
Your ethereal wing brushes our weary brows,
Life wanes, and we drift away,
In the tender, pale embrace of dying roses.

:: April 20th, 2024 ::


Strange Mistral Wind

It sounds so strange ~~~

.. your heart, bruised like a peach

is ripe as your body for sophisticated love

as a restless sailor waiting

i closed my eyes said the breathing

words of moving seas

she makes my sails fill

And within my Soul it seemed strange

mistral wind

Oh! Of laughter, at what ceases to amuse.

And last, the body and soul begins to
fall asunder.

Watching all you have done, and been…

:: 04.20.2024 ::


Insane Poetry Running Away

Gathered among lovely nymphs, whose grace shines brightly like eternal stars,
Their vibrant essence lingers, embracing radiantly,
In the dream-laden air, does my love pursue only a fleeting vision?
My uncertainty, an ancient veil of darkness, now reaches its peak.
In the quiet branches that linger faithfully, in enduring woods,
Alas, I too have presented myself as a false and grand ideal.
Should we then speak of these maidens whom you hold in sight,
Do they mirror the deep desires that haunt your senses’ flight?
One, a deceptive illusion of purity, cold and chaste like tears,
Yet the other, full of sighs and warmth, a stark contrast to the world?
No! Through lazy reveries, stifling the gentle rise of morning,
No waters flow, except those that my flute’s soft murmur conjures.
To the grove, with melodies sprinkled like a gentle rain,
Where my twin pipes play swiftly, untouched by the limits of the horizon.
Oh shores of Sicily, in tranquil marshes I am lost,
Vanity contends with the brilliance of the sun, at such a cost.
Silent beneath shimmering blooms, let me thus narrate,
Of reeds I cut and tamed, when behold! From a distant vineyard’s gate,
A creature as pure as snow descends upon the verdant glow,
A prelude soft as pipes, like swans in flight bestow.
All inert things burn in this warm, languid hour,
Unaware of how they fled the captivating power of desire.
Now awake, primal urge, beneath the ancient flood’s embrace,
Lily! Your innocence in your gaze, true amidst the grand pace.
But beyond this sweet nothingness, beneath their brief kiss,
My heart, untouched by proof, reveals a profound mystery.
Let it be! For in the reeds we play, under the azure sky,
Turning cheeks to tremble, dreams take flight.
To amuse the beauty around, with notes that weave and sway,
Between the dream and song, love’s whispers softly play.
Oh Syrinx, by the lake where you await, blossom anew!
Proud of murmurs that speak of goddesses, in a reverent hue.
Unleash the waists of shadows, in my tales they live and breathe,
As I imbibe the brightness of the grape, dispelling sorrow.
Laughing, I raise the emptied glass beneath the summer sky,
Breathing into luminous skins, yearning until evening nears.
Oh nymphs, let us rise again, with joyful memories,
My eyes piercing through reeds, striking each immortal form I see,
Submerged in waters under the forest’s tumultuous sky,
With cries of anger and splendor, swiftly passing by.
Glorious strands of hair slipping, adorned with jewels of the brightest hues,
I hasten forth, to this bank of roses in the gentle sunlight.
All fragrances wasted, as our revelry dissipates in the shade,
Where our merriment should linger, like a day long past.
I adore you, wrathful virgins, delicate and shy,
The secret fears of flesh, from heartless foot to timid thigh.
Happy to conquer these fears, my crime is but to partake
In the gods’ mingled kisses, a passion from within.
As I conceal a laugh within one, the other burns brightly,
Yet this quarry forever flees, showing no pity in its flight.
No matter! Others lead me to joy, with tangled locks,
And ripe pomegranates buzzing with bees’ sounds.
At this hour, amid gold and ashes, the forest stirs,
A banquet amid extinguished leaves.
On Etna’s slopes, where Venus walks with effortless grace,
Sad slumber rumbles where the flames leave their trace.
I hold the queen, in an embrace of certain punishment,
No words, as my soul and heavy body yield to silence’s embrace.
Forgetting blasphemy, I surrender to noon’s proud silence,
Lying on the thirsty sand, embracing the true rush of wine.
Farewell to both of you: I depart to witness the shadows you’ve become.

:: 04.20.2024 ::


THE CONSTITUTION OF POETS ii (rev)

THE brain; a sheet of bloodied paper

THE mind; a big scribble

THE heart; the murderer

THE soul; along for the merriest ride

EYES aglow with moonlit wonder

I float on rivers of liquid light

SURRENDERED to universe’s plunder

IN this psychedelic reverie of night

THE boundaries blur, time slips away

AS I merge with the infinite sea,

A transient soul in a cosmic ballet,

God only knows me and sets me free.

:: 08-23-2018 ::


You are Old, Papa

“Dear Papa, the oldest one,” the grand-daughter named Evelyn spoke.

“Your heart leaps as a youngster but your hair is white;

and therein I see something very youthful.

What do other’s my age think or say? Is this correct

or an aberration of adoration and love?”

“When I was younger,” said Papa, “than you I knew the things that could

muddle the mind and confuse the brain to think age has

anything to do with love or magic. To otherwise do,

I feared it would injure my brain.”

Evelyn thought as a young girl might.

“You look old but are not.” said this youth.

“because i shook the shack of a shilling box. I would

sell you some but you are mine heart.”

“How favorite, this thing papa.”

Said her papa: “never forget the magic of a heart!”

:: 04.16.2024 ::


Love Is Ever Near & Forever

Oh Goddess! Hear these awkward lines, wrung
By sweet memory’s force and fond reflection,
Pardon that your secrets I have sung
Even to your tender ear’s direction:
Perchance today was but a dream, or did I spy
The winged Psyche with wide-open eye?
Through a forest I wandered, lost in reverie,
Then suddenly, struck with surprise,
I beheld two figures, side by side they lie
In deep grass, under the whispering trees
Of leaves and blooms that softly sigh,
Beside a brooklet, scarcely seen:

Among hushed, fragrant flowers, with eyes of blue,
Silver-white, budding Tyrian hue,
They rest serenely on the grass;
Their arms entwined, and wings too;
Their lips not meeting, yet no farewell,
As if parted by gentle slumber’s spell,
Yet poised to share countless kisses
At the tender dawn of love’s golden bliss:
The winged girl I knew, but who are you,
O fortunate dove, her true Psyche too!

Oh most recently born and lovely vision,
Surpassing all Olympus’ old dominion!
Fairer than Phoebe’s starry height,
Or Vesper, sky’s enamored light;
Fairer than these, though without shrine,
Nor altar decked with flowers fine;
No choir of maidens to sing through the night,
No voice, no lyre, no flute, no fragrant smoke,
From censer swung in rhythmic stroke;
No sacred grove, no oracle’s sight,
No dreams of seers in the pale moon’s light.

Oh brightest one! Though late for ancient rites,
Too late for the lyre’s devoted flights,
When forest boughs were deemed sacred,
And air, water, fire, held holy:
Yet in these days, far from joyful cries,
Your radiant wings among fading deities,
I see and sing, inspired by my own sight.
So let me be your chorus, and lament
Through the quiet hours of night;
Your voice, your lyre, your flute, your sweet incense,
From the swinging censer’s dance;
Your sacred space, grove, prophecy’s essence,
Divine dreams seen through the seer’s glance.

Yes, I’ll be your priest, and raise a shrine
In my mind’s unexplored deeps,
Where thoughts, newly formed with pleasant pain,
Murmur like pines in gentle breeze;
Far and wide, dark-clustered trees
Adorn the steep, rugged peaks;
There, amidst breezes, streams, birds, and bees,
The moss-clad Dryads find peaceful sleep;
In this vast stillness, a rosy sanctuary blooms,
Woven with the lattice of creative mind’s looms,
With buds, bells, and nameless stars that gleam,
Imaginary blooms of fanciful dreams,
Each cultivated, yet never the same;
All the gentle pleasures of elusive thought,
For you to cherish and claim,
With a bright torch and a window left unbarred,
To welcome warm Love’s flame!

:: 04.10.2024 ::


My Love Swears Truth

Good afternoon. If even in prayer
By evening as a pauper in a chair

i have spent my life in explaining
these thousands dreams where most
are swallowing these dreams i never
ignored. And now there is one patch
of flowers explaining me.

From a golden rim step among vocal chords
pink and velvets, as gray gauzes,
and crystal disks of folly & disease
We believe and see digitalis wounds
with their centuries of no talent!

And Swearing my love, made of love
that maybe she lies — that she may
think I am unthinking /unlearned in
a world of falshitiest — on both
sides \ that she knows my days are
best undoing her tongue that she is
not unjust | Oh! best is love untold
and between us we are all undo
suppressed : by love’s inhabited
by lies we flatter be.

In spite of hate and love
In realization I am the one
lost in this cage____
the only one \now weeping/
Christ.

:: 04.08.2024 ::


LA CATEDRAL iii

In twilight’s tender grasp, where shadows twirl,
A cathedral of dreams, in whispers unfurl.
Its stones sing with silver and gold’s gleam,
A harmony divine, like a poet’s dream.

La Catedral, a symphony in stone,
Where passion’s echoes in soft whispers are sown.
With each note, a solace, a comforting balm,
In its embrace, our hearts find their calm.

Through ancient corridors, love’s tale weaves,
Guitar strings dance, as each heart believes.
Emotions vast, untamed, set free,
In this hallowed place, where souls meet in glee.

La Catedral, a sanctuary of sound,
Where deepest yearnings of the soul are found.
With each chord struck, a closeness we feel,
To its rhythm, where dreams gently steal.

In silence, beneath the starry night’s glow,
We pour our souls in melodies that flow.
Within La Catedral, where dreams alight,
In every refrain, love takes its flight.

A beacon in darkness, guiding our way,
La Catedral, where memories sway.
With each gentle pluck, a story told,
In its halls, where love’s mark takes hold.

So let us linger in this sacred space,
Where time and music tenderly embrace.
In La Catedral, our spirits soar high,
In the symphony of night, forever nigh.

:: 04.02.2024 ::


Lost Love

Lost, oh love lost
but someday
I will be there

Now, oh now love
within a sunrise
I am here now

bathed golden hues
embraced within dawn’s
gentle grace
where every heartbeat
finds solace
and every sigh
whispers our tale

In the silent symphony
of morning
our souls entwine,
boundless and free
here, where time stands still
love blooms eternally

Through a labyrinth
of moments past
we’ve journeyed,
hand in hand
and now, the break of day
love reigns, steadfast and grand

So fear not shadows of yesteryears
for in this dawn’s embrace
our love finds its home
and in each other, we find our place

:: 04.02.2024 ::