Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Caution



Are you Him
Or is it you
just His means...?

The flame
about to extinguish
keeps burning back.

Better like that,
 only
    partly.

From the darknes
    I observe you
From the light
    I search out  for you
And,
only
  partly,
   I find you.

I kiss you all
and caress you.

It's
partly tenderness
partly passion.

It's only partly
that today
  I am being 
   and feeling...

But the joy of
being cautious
and,
   only
     partly,
        living
is complete.


Image by Google images (" Piensa en Mí")

These days Am away and abroad, so I am afraid again I won't be  able to do much or any commenting. Thanks for your visit, any way!   :-)


Sunday, July 29, 2012

grin


Vita
ad me renidet
 et ego
 ridere retro

 Unde et
 ego vitam

Ego ridere.



Wednesday, July 18, 2012

nothing much



so good
 he is
reminds me
 he does
so often
of some
   few people
like me
  I do
  I am
ready to give
everything
and in return
get
we do
nothing much



*Longing* by 


Saturday, July 14, 2012

The Three Ages of Women


In honor...Gustav Klimt   (14 July 1862 – 6 Feb, 1918)

MOMENTS

                shame on you
       shame on us
looking at the watch 
won’t make time get closer 
     nor will it
get back the seconds needed
        
to finish 
            then l
eave 
              
then  wait until 
that
             the moment  
                     when if 
                            and
whatever happens…    will happen

           Standing
                      out at your balcony 
won’t make him arrive earlier 
                    his
car won’t come up 
             before your eyes… 
I
nstead
        you’ll surely get a bit 
              
more desperate 
 More…    if possible
Willing 
  
Expecting 
     
Hoping 
       Praying 
          
Crying 
              
Begging 
                   
Knowing
Yet
           Insisting
             your moment
        ought to be also
your miracle
your wish

Cannot accept
   that
       recession 
           that tension 

shame on you
shame on us
   you know, 
          and too badly 
I know as well
 our moment
       will only start again
       when and if...
                 he comes
wont' it?




To my late granma, who, in unusual (?)  despair,  used to wait..hours on end.... for her husband, then for her son and,  later, for her grandsons to get back home.. - from - say- their late Saturday nights.



Image: The Three Ages of Women by Gustav Klimt 

Monday, July 9, 2012

tender night




Might it be a legend
a myth.
How sizably
 my fair love lies
in proud humidity.


Positively it lies,
my gaze fixed on the midnight sky
and below, lands tremble
Horror and beauty
both divine.


This amour,
kind of a shadow,
yet, how it shines.


Fiery, almost lurid,
this bliss and lust
for each other.

...Sigh...

A break to
 help me breathe...
Will he?

And the sea
my hair swirls
Standing
 more present than ever
with these my
 few powers and flames
waiting for maybe one only
long hour.

It’s then that he comes
and blindfolds me...


My skin traced
in the right direction
  giddy- I giggle.

Sigh, dreamer.

Two becoming one.

Momentary glory.

I see again these our
grinning faces.

Quiet souls.


Image: "Tender Moments" Colour Pencil Art by 

Joining the Open Link Monday at the   Real Toads and Magpie 125...

Sunday, July 8, 2012

unsustainable



I could write about love, virtues and rhythms
goddesses within or peace
live or leave and let live
but I do not feel like doing so

These are the days when thousands are killing themselves
so as not to kill one another
at least not just yet
for this is not a civil war
but an internal fight against principles one once sought
going to work only to find there is not a job anymore
fired from what gave us a reason to subsist and help ours
and nothing,  no one impedes the world from crumbling all around

That freedom losing its essence
revolution forbidden
and anyway what’s that
granddad is not here to train us in its meaning
now there’s no way out,  no way in
but this sense remains
that all we suffered all we worked for
has all vanished into thin air
the one we cannot breathe
because-  I must guess...
 we all have contributed to
this unsustainable state of affairs.


Engraving by Francisco de Goya