valentina

valentina

walking a quiet path
valentina found a wilted flower
admiring its faded beauty she wondered
if this flower has ever been loved
or did she bloom in gardens of neglect
have her petals ever kissed
the one who got away
valentina took her home
to spend her lonely nights
watering dead flowers
with tears of yesterday

your absence

your absence

your absence
wanders the solitude of my room
through labyrinths of silence
like my heartbeat screaming
inside the darkest of catacombs
it is a symphony of memories
that echo with no finale
an unholy apparition
haunting without mercy
as I lay in a bed of dead roses
where the thorns of your absence
are forever piercing me

.

when the moon arrived without you

when the moon arrived without you

A metaphor slowly wilts
like a red rose dying
in the sad reflections of a tinted vase

faded petals of unrecited verses
expired in a gentle whisper
as cold winds blew

tonight, a melancholy poem
exhaled its final breathe
when the moon arrived without you

I wanted to thank everyone for their support. I am struggling with my vision and I hope to be back soon to read your blogs and reply to comments on mine,

alchemy

alchemy

everywhere time inscribes his indelible marks
there remains one untainted corner
beneath a thousand wounds
of boiling sensitivities
our hearts are a lab
creating poetic alchemy
a lonely place where the unloved
transform melancholy into poetry

erased by the sea

erased by the sea

a fragile beach of sand
where the radiant foam of the shoreline
illuminates here and beyond
souls of light swim in pomegranates
currents transport their innocent flames
where they will be doused in the marsh of Styx
somewhere in the distance waves roll in
they are only felt by me
unseeing eyes will fail to witness
my footprints erased by the sea

when a woman decides to forget (For all women battling domestic violence)

My long time followers know I am a crusader against domestic abuse. A precious friend finds herself trapped in a relationship of physical/mental abuse. Although her husband will never read my poem, this is for him and all the other losers.

when a woman decides to forget

a white table cloth
stained by unspoken words
lays dead in a frigid kitchen
like a red rose in a morgue of poetry
a barren tree outside the window
extends branches of remorse
for once a fallen leaf has wilted
it can never be reset
some fires can’t be rekindled
there is no going back
when a woman decides to forget