Month: April 2024

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The Elegy of Unending Love

beatrizesmer

In the quiet twilight of surrendered dreams, where the poetry of gaze fades into the mundane, love whispers its farewell. It is in the moment when windows lose their magic, becoming mere glass and frame, and the stars above are reduced to mere points of light, distant and cold. Love retreats, a silent deserter in the face of life’s relentless march, leaving behind the intervals of dreams—those brief escapes that punctuate our days and hours with fleeting respite. Love withers in the drought of recidivism aridity from within, a bond once supple now rigid, a captive thorn in the heart’s … Continue reading The Elegy of Unending Love

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The Poet’s Journey

beatrizesmer

From the milk of my mother’s breast, a tender nourishment bestowed upon me, I emerged into this world—a vessel of life, a seeker of truth. The very essence of existence flowed through my veins, whispered secrets of ancient stars, and cradled my nascent soul. And then, the verses began—the delicate threads spun by the loom of my heart. Each word, a filament of longing, a filament of wonder. I wove them into tapestries of thought, embroidered with dreams and stitched with memories. They danced across the parchment, pirouetting in moonlight, their syllables like celestial notes. Prose, too, found its way … Continue reading The Poet’s Journey

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In my solitude

beatrizesmer

In the quietude of the evening, there is a face that dips into the still waters of reflection, where amazement dissolves like sugar in tea, sweetening the depths of thought. It is a place where figures of speech break apart, their fragments floating away to form new means of communication. Eyes, bones, ears—each becomes unmoored, adrift in the liquid embrace of introspection. With a little more care, a touch more tenderness, one can reach the very bottom of being, touch the essence of self that lies uninhabited. Feet, senses, all that we are, unshackled from the gravity of the world … Continue reading In my solitude

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Lost and Found

beatrizesmer

In the tender years of youth, when the world was large and time stretched like an endless horizon, I pondered the rituals of parting in the throes of love. The hallways of adolescence echoed with the clasp of hands and the silent vows in each farewell embrace, a testament to the fervent pulse of young hearts. Home was a different theater, where the language of love was spoken in the dialect of discord. Doors became the messengers of unspoken affection, their slams punctuating the air like exclamation marks, while the night cradled the search for something purer amidst the cacophony … Continue reading Lost and Found

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A Love Uncontained

beatrizesmer

I am the hopeless romantic, a tangle of emotions, a messy canvas painted with longing. You, my dear, are the glass of something sweet—like a fine cabernet sauvignon that lingers on the tongue, leaving traces of warmth and desire. If archaeologists were to unearth my bones, they would find my heart—a crimson relic—still beating, fueled by the memory of you. It pulses within me, a rhythm that defies time and logic. How can mere mortals contain such intensity? The ocean stretches its azure arms, depths unknown, and the universe unfurls across light years. Yet, amidst cosmic vastness, we found each … Continue reading A Love Uncontained

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Honeyed Heaviness

beatrizesmer

In the quietude of a rain-soaked afternoon, I found myself adrift—a wanderer returning to the shores of my own existence. The world blurred at the edges, and my gaze, once sharp, softened into a dreamy haze. Eyes glazed, I traced the contours of memory—the delicate etchings of moments half-forgotten. They swirled like watercolors on the canvas of my mind, each hue bleeding into the next. Faces, places, and fragments of emotion merged, creating a mosaic of longing. The floodgates opened, and I waded through the waters of retrospection. There, in the shallows, I glimpsed my reflection—an echo of who I … Continue reading Honeyed Heaviness

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Chronicles of the Soul

beatrizesmer

My soul is a weathered manuscript, its pages etched by the gusts of wind that sweep through my existence. Each breeze carries whispers of forgotten moments, inscribing them upon the parchment of my being. Burnt tastebuds tell tales of hastily sipped coffee, scalding my tongue as I grapple with life’s complexities. The bitterness lingers, a reminder that even pleasure can scorch if consumed too swiftly. Chapped fingers, roughened by time and labor, trace the contours of memory. They brush against the edges of joy and sorrow, leaving imprints like ancient runes. These hands have held both love and loss, cradling … Continue reading Chronicles of the Soul

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The Art of Words

beatrizesmer

I like words like progress, extract, transpose, scape, scope, inform, purpose. Relational words, scientific in nature, poetic in imagery, musical in utterance. I like words that can be picked apart, that can devour and tell. Give me new reasons to delve deeper, to conclude, to prove. To prove me to you, to prove me to myself. They are relational, not just in syntax but in essence, scientific in precision yet poetic in reach, musical in every syllable that dances off the tongue. These words dissect the mundane, consume the banal, and narrate intricate truths. They are the architects of reason, … Continue reading The Art of Words

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Ink and Veins

beatrizesmer

Before I began to write poetry, I dissected song lyrics like a curious surgeon. Each syllable, each note—my scalpel. I sought the marrow of meaning, the pulse beneath the melody. My red spiral notebook, a confessional, cradled their verses. Milton Nascimento, Tom Jobim and Chico Buarque—maestros of language. Their words, like benevolent ghosts, whispered secrets across the pages. But oh, how they sat there, perched on the paper, their hearts masquerading as eyes. Big, bubbly letters, innocent as children, yet they knew not their own power. I absorbed them, these syllables, these notes. They seeped under my skin, mingling with … Continue reading Ink and Veins