Tag: life

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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

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Embracing Life’s Journey

beatrizesmer

In the quietude of my darkest hours, let me be the mirror that unwaveringly reflects the depths of my soul, and the echo that resounds with the truths I’ve whispered to the night. As the world slumbers, teach me the art of self-acceptance, to find peace in the liminal space where seeds of hope gestate and await the harvest of tomorrow. Grant me the gift of days yet to dawn, where I may weave threads of compassion missed in today’s tapestry, mending the fabric of a heart that faltered in its purpose. Confront me with the visage of my own … Continue reading Embracing Life’s Journey

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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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Transient Echoes

beatrizesmer

In this brief existence, we are but fleeting echoes—foreigners in a cosmic transience. Our souls, like delicate particles of stardust, traverse the boundless void. Imagine: a speck of dust suspended in the sunbeam of eternity. We drift, unanchored, through epochs and eras, our essence woven into the fabric of time. Each heartbeat resonates with the pulse of forgotten constellations. This world, once vibrant and resplendent, now wanes—a fading ember in the cosmic hearth. The symphony of life falters, notes dissolving into silence. We, too, are part of this unraveling—a minuscule fragment in the grand unraveling. Yet, within our insignificance lies … Continue reading Transient Echoes

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The Mosaic of the Misguided

beatrizesmer

In the gallery of my life, I once displayed a mosaic, crafted with pieces of my essence. Each fragment was a chapter, a melody, a whisper of my soul. They were the right pieces—genuine, pure, and full of promise. But as fate would have it, they fell into the wrong hands. These hands, like careless curators, mishandled the treasures I offered. They took the laughter and returned to silence, accepted trust, and repaid it with betrayal. The right pieces of me, once vibrant and hopeful, were tarnished by their touch. I watched as my mosaic became a jigsaw, with pieces … Continue reading The Mosaic of the Misguided

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The Hidden Truths Within Silence

beatrizesmer

In the quiet corridors of our innermost selves, we often tread softly, afraid to awaken the truths that slumber in silence. These truths, veiled in the shadows of unspoken thoughts, are the purest essence of our being, yet they remain concealed behind a tapestry of reticence. We choose not to voice them, not to acknowledge their reflection in the mirror, for fear that their revelation might shatter the image we’ve so carefully constructed. Pride, that cunning architect, builds fortresses around our vulnerabilities, convincing us that to ignore a problem is to erase it from existence. But like a persistent whisper … Continue reading The Hidden Truths Within Silence

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Pardonne-moi, mon amour…

beatrizesmer

I wish I could weave your sadness, delicately, like a silken thread, unraveling the knots that cling to the corners of your heart. Each tear would be a pearl, strung together in a necklace of empathy, a testament to the weight you carry. I wish I could listen, truly listen, as you speak of your pain. Your words would be like notes of a melancholy melody, each syllable a brushstroke on the canvas of my understanding. And in the telling, your burden would lighten, the edges of your suffering softened by the mere act of sharing. I wish I could … Continue reading Pardonne-moi, mon amour…

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Each Individual As A Unique And Irreplaceable Masterpiece

beatrizesmer

In the quiet of dawn, I stirred from slumber, a whisper of vitality coursing through my veins—a familiar drive, an echo from a past I had once danced with, then let slip away into the recesses of memory. It was as if the very essence of my being had been rekindled by a flame that had never truly extinguished, merely dimmed beneath the ashes of routine and time. This strong desire was enigmatic, a riddle wrapped in the enigma of my own soul, its origins as elusive as the source of a river that has traveled far from its mountain … Continue reading Each Individual As A Unique And Irreplaceable Masterpiece