Tag: Brazil

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Rules

beatrizesmer

Once upon a time, I was a prisoner of my own creation, bound by the chains of rules and regulations. I used to have rules about poetry, a world where words danced to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I counted in line, time, meter, and form, each syllable a steppingstone, each line a journey, each poem a universe unto itself. I was a puppeteer of language, fingering syllables and forking tongues, weaving tapestries of emotion and thought with the threads of words. I used to have rules about love, a labyrinth of do’s and don’ts that dictated the rhythm of … Continue reading Rules

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Rhythms of Heritage

beatrizesmer

In the lineage of my soul, jazz and samba intertwine—a melody of past and present. The smooth allure of jazz caresses my senses, its improvisational spirit a testament to freedom. Yet, the samba beats within me, a pulsating force that moves me to the core. It is the rhythm of my ancestors, a vibrant echo of their resilience and joy. In every drumbeat, I hear their stories—their struggles, their triumphs. My feet, though they may wander, are rooted in the hallowed ground of the slave quarters. There, amidst the shadows of history, my spirit dances—a defiant flame against the darkness. … Continue reading Rhythms of Heritage

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To Little Eyes of the Forest

beatrizesmer

In the heart of verdant whispers, where the great rivers flow, Dwells the soul of the forest, in the children’s eyes, it glows. With feet bare upon the earth, their laughter rings in tune, To the parrot’s vibrant chorus, ‘neath the watchful Amazon moon. Tiny hands, like leaves, reach out, to the sky so vast and blue, Grasping dreams of peace and harmony, in the morning’s dew. They dance with the spirits of the trees, in a silent, sacred ballet, Wearing crowns of orchids wild, in the break of day. Beaded bracelets jingle softly, anklets sing of ancient lore, Each … Continue reading To Little Eyes of the Forest

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On Indigenous Peoples Day,

beatrizesmer

Let us weave a flag of colors, a symphony of stories, and honor the threads that bind us to ancient lands. You, my miscegenated soul, bear the hues of a thousand sunsets—neither black nor white, but a kaleidoscope of ancestry. In your veins flows the Karipuna river, its waters whispering secrets of resilience. The Rio Jamary Karipunas, nearly lost to time, dance in your blood—their footsteps etched in the Guaporé drylands, a sacred map of survival. Your lineage, a mosaic of nations, defies borders. Portuguese winds from Ceará State kiss your cheeks, while Dutch echoes from Sergipe State linger in … Continue reading On Indigenous Peoples Day,

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Sweet Memories …

beatrizesmer

As a child, I saw the deep blue ocean, its vastness stretching beyond my young imagination. I felt the sand beneath my feet, warm and comforting, as if nature itself was embracing me. I watched the white-capped waves dancing, like crabs upon the beach, their rhythm hypnotic and soothing. I grew up and fell in love in the redwood forest, seduced by the sunlight which filtered in, but the climbing vines and deep-set shadows made me feel it was a sin. I climbed a mount in Congonhas city, touched the shining, silver clouds, feeling the weight of the world lift … Continue reading Sweet Memories …

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Brasil

beatrizesmer

My love was born in a land of mystery where water flows in midnight tresses, so free this skin, a canvas of forest and Eastern light a redwood dye of history, woven so right. It’s not my own, but a legacy of toil from my mother’s hands, from the earth’s rich soil glass bangles sing, a melody in the air hoisting baskets of life, with grace and care. This land, it holds the moon and sun so dear with fruits so sweet, and eyes so kind and clear strong hands, gentle hearts, a rhythm so pure, a pulse that beats … Continue reading Brasil