ON WOMEN

 

HEROISM

 

And my eyes hurt
From the tears welling up
Out of unbeknown flesh
Burning from this hidden gaze
Of a mother mourning her son
‘s death for a country
That finds beauty in his grave
Embraced by her

 
 
 
 
 

Lightyears

 

The fill of grey in rays aloft
Often keeps us transparent in colour
Our fervent wish is to resolve
All that has us still evolve

Into a being in between

To bridge the gap of our fixed stars,
And lay the ground for frigid scars:
Soon, by the draw of this heart’s shard,
We’ll be collected by the bards

In a vaccuum winds don’t blow strong,
And life – muss less love – can’t go long
Yet streams of gravity make dreams
Flood clear corridors without seams,
Attract mass beyond our belief,
Make us write letters in serif
And crave the touch that you may hold
Lightyears apart, ready to be gone

 
 
 
 
 

Fictional First

 

The scent of a hibiscus’ seaside gust,
Mixed with sunlit rooms and static dust,
Still lingers in the air a lifetime after
Bringing innocence and practiced laughter

And shepherd’s dance; what otherworldly boon
For us and ever! grace the night, calm moon,
With your gaze of heterochromia,
Knowing that someone’s dream is all we are

The tangible rain of her scripted tears
Has become refrain to these age-long fears

Is there limit to your allegory –
To the potential of my own story?

This song of faith shall reach maturity,
For I grew tall on hope and purity

 
 
 
 
 

The Stage

 

This static voice turns

From a muted gasp’s yearns

In liaison with owls

The seat burns. Uttering

Hear the radio’s

Noise keep stuttering

Like my heart. Fluttering

 
 
 
 
 

Pull

 

November’s light

Was cold and stopped the world

In its spin, as I

Wondered if this is what

Luna’s fair skin felt like

 
 
 
 
 

Palm

 

I shall be your guide

– A dream-stained window to

This monochrome realm –

And color black, to let you

See what only your eyes may

 
 
 
 
 

Aria, together

 

Of stories now and then I’ll tell my friend,
Who joins me on voyage again…

A maiden’s offering, her graceful hand
Patching this sail, painting traveler’s tale;

My racing heart brings – ah, almost it sings! –
Excitement, riding on a southern gale,
To you, Dearest, about wondrous new things,
And bell-like chimes resounding in port hail:
“Come, beginnings not far beyond the rail!”,
For all the unknown treasures to explore
Are plucking these heartstrings forever more,
Now echoing love’s song composed by you

…A seagull observing life on the shore,
Flapping its wings, thinking of kindness too

 
 

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