Etiqueta: poem

Falling from the tree,
Like rose popurrí.
Drops of sound, liquid joy.
Rain or luck?
Hidden yellow shadow.

Yellow?
Bright sun encased in black frame.
And its song raining.
Falling from the tree,
Like rose popurrí.

Tac tac tac.
Madera.
Tac tac tac.
Un ojo negro.
Tac tac tac.
Revuelo.
Tac tac tac.
Rojo sobre blanco y gritas desde el encino:
¡Humano!

Drain the night
The day arrived.
Gone the cold.
Melted the frost.
Yet I wait again.
I know it didn’t go.
It never does.
It flutters by,
Caresses to your recoil and…
Zaz! The hit.
The whip, the sting.

Next year?
No.
Perhaps if I keep trying?
No.
Maybe with a little magic?
No.
Numb, numb and numb.
I plan but feel like slumbering.
I think I might but feel like getting lost in reading.
Why am I even typing?
Why the need?
Said someone.
Why the need?
I thought too.
Will I be brave enough to face the bumping lights?
Or am I coward enough to go on zombying like the last ten years of nothing?
Don’t mind me.
This is just a drama.

The sky has become sorta white.
Tasteless.
Worthless.
And it doesn’t matter how bright the stars.
My heart can’t beat to their sight.
Moon light?
Blind.
Rose scent?
My nose is dead.
The touch of a lad?
I’m numb to fail.
Rise and rise,
The smoke.
Nothing.
Some exiled name from remain,
Cause there were records of none.
Burnt in the same cage of demise.
Cinders behind.
Without a teeth brush or shoe to put behind glass.