i hold a story about us

i hold a story about us
i hold it dear in my heart
although we are far apart

i hold a story about us
i shout it out to blank pages
my pen is always ready

i hold a story about us
but i dared not tell you
all the universe knows but you

i hold a story about us
now ready to become a book
hoping one day you will read

* * *

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Tell your poem

Stand on the pulpit that is the earth,
Take off your clothes of shame;
Do not be afraid to step on the dust
For it shall be your resting place.

Look at the weeds teeming with life,
No one has watered nor cared for;
Learn and persevere like them, who
Patiently waits for the sun and rain.

Ponder on the beauty of a flower,
Reflect upon its silence and grandeur;
Do not hasten the changing seasons
All will start to wither after springtime.

Seek for the beginning of everything–
The garden of paradise ruined by the fall;
Then try to look for the tree of life
And there, you tell your poem.

My ABC’s

A — another mile. I must go on
B — better me, I can try to be
C — cat got my tongue. And so I write
D — devil may care. Young at heart
E — embellishments — a poet’s sin
F — forestalling, my life as an interlude
G — God be with me, to eternity…
H — happy, a fleeting butterfly
I — ink, that spills and spills and spills
J — jar of Sylvia. I try to lift every day
K — knots…on my shoes, in my stomach
L — love. The journey I dared not take
M — melancholy — my melody, my malady
N — note. Of thoughts and memories
O — oath — To not self loathe
P — pain, my terror teacher
Q — questions, endless questions
R — ripple…little ripples, to waves
S — smile, all will be well
T — turn the page, move on…
U — unique, the color of your soul
V — vulnerable, the girl inside
W — water leaking: drops of tears
X — xanthic flowers, all around you
Y — yesterday, favorite hangout
Z — zone out…to the clouds!

 

The lone wolf and the moon

On the rugged cliffs of the island,
a lonely wolf
looks down to the shore below–
shining and dazzling, kissed
by the moonbeams.

The wolf scanned the vastness
of the sea, then lifts its head
up to the moon…
to cry a song
to that beautiful moon.

But no voice came out,
for it has lost its voice–
Drowned in battles fought in the days
when the beat of the kill
was loud in the world of beasts.

The moon in her yellow splendor
saw the sorrowful state of the wolf;
‘Tis the same creature
that sings tales to me,
speaks to me
–thought the moon.

That night, it was she who howled
for the wolf.

To the iron gates…

(Poem #3 of series)

Clammy hands,
Hearts on fire,
Bodies entwined
(the first embrace)

Our eyes were shut
To the world
As I whisper my gratitude
to the heavens,
And she, her vows
(the morning grace)

As our bodies parted,
The wind blew~
in chorus with the fluttering
Of wings yet to be tried.

The iron gates, already open
Metals creaked
This, and the sound of our feet
(as we leave this place)

Running is a flight to oblivion.

* * *

I borrowed the pen of Pablo Neruda…

I borrowed the pen of Pablo Neruda,
and painted life in green
in trains of thoughts unseen.

I succumbed to the pain of Sylvia,
to understand the puzzle of despair;
stand grateful to Love beyond compare.

I tried to walk in the woods of Frost,
a tread in paths that are still unknown
to reap the seeds yet to be sown.

I sought the solace of Dickinson,
ethereal joy ‘midst the solitude–
whose silence was a face of rectitude.

I read them works–Longfellow’s, Whitman’s, Poe’s
and vowed, to be a drop of poetry in a world of prose.

* * *

wolf senses

the lone wolf in the pack froze
in the chilling year-round winter

keen is his skin to smell the thorns
dodging scratches, shield worn;
yet swords of tongues lash deep,
touching his holy ground of conceit

you can hear his eyes speak tears,
though dry they were and uncried;
and the ears are pricked and alert
for the next sound to watch closely

his nose tastes the warnings bitter
for city guards, paving bloody road.