Tag: poem

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Dear Every Person in My Life,

beatrizesmer

In life’s tapestry, woven with threads of time, you stand as a luminous strand—a constellation of moments, both fleeting and eternal. Past, present, future—your essence dances across the fabric of my days, leaving footprints on the shores of memory. To You, Present: Your footsteps echo softly in the corridors of now. Your laughter, a sunbeam that warms my soul. We share this fragile moment, suspended like dewdrops on morning petals. You are the ink in my unwritten chapters, the melody humming beneath my breath. I honor your presence—the way you hold my hand when storms gather, the way your eyes mirror … Continue reading Dear Every Person in My Life,

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The Poet’s Solitude

beatrizesmer

What has made me a poet? Only this: those silent ravings—the tempests that churn within when the world presses too close. Even in the arms of those I have most loved, there blooms an ache—an insatiable hunger for solitude. The desire to escape—to slip through the cracks of existence, to be alone with my thoughts—becomes a beacon. It pulses, immutable, like a distant star. And in that yearning, all becomes uncanny—the familiar streets, the faces, the whispered secrets. I have loved deeply—oh, how I have loved! But love, too, can be a tempest—a wild sea that threatens to engulf the … Continue reading The Poet’s Solitude

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Threads of Creation

beatrizesmer

The masterpiece begins with the pencil sketch—a hesitant line on blank paper. It trembles, unsure of its purpose. But within that graphite stroke lies the seed of creation—the spark that will ignite galaxies. The novel, too, emerges from chaos. Its first draft is a tempest—a whirlwind of characters, plot twists, and half-formed sentences. The words stumble over each other, seeking coherence. Yet, within this messiness, stories take root—their roots burrowing deep into the soil of imagination. And the symphony? Ah, it begins with a simple hum—a melody whispered over morning coffee. The composer sips, eyes closed, listening to the notes … Continue reading Threads of Creation

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Eternal Tides

beatrizesmer

I thought of love on a rainy day—a canvas of gray where longing dripped from the heavens. The sun, that relentless voyager, sought refuge behind veils of cloud. I wished for its retreat—for eternity—to let the world bask in the melancholy of your presence. You, my dear enigma, were the gloom—the mist that clung to ancient oaks, the fog that whispered secrets. Depth and mystery swirled within you, like hidden galaxies waiting to be explored. On that dull and darkened day, you were the riddle I yearned to unravel. And I? I was the rain—the silent messenger. I fell from … Continue reading Eternal Tides

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Ephemeral Echoes

beatrizesmer

Sometimes, I am gifted fragments of existence—fleeting glimpses that dance before my eyes. These delicate shards of reality, like fireflies in twilight, refuse to fade. They cling to my soul, etching themselves into the tapestry of memory. There exists a place—an ethereal threshold where dreams and waking life intertwine. Perhaps it is real, or perhaps it resides within the secret chambers of my heart. Regardless, I have visited it countless times, tracing its contours with the tender brushstrokes of my imagination. On that porch—a sanctuary of weathered wood—I sit, gazing out over a sun-kissed yard. The sun, a benevolent artist, … Continue reading Ephemeral Echoes

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Echoes of Absence

beatrizesmer

There is a disembodied sadness, a phantom ache that lingers in the hollows of memory. It emerges from the chasm between having and not having, a silent lament for what once was and what now eludes our grasp. The presence of touch, once warm and intimate, has been bartered away, replaced by the presence of absence—a void that gnaws at the edges of our souls. How awful it is—the way time unravels our certainties, leaving us with frayed threads of longing. Sundays, those quiet interludes, become vessels for coffee and the art of not opening our eyes wide enough to meet the day’s gaze. We cocoon ourselves in half-slumber, shielding … Continue reading Echoes of Absence

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Let me forget my sorrows

beatrizesmer

In the hush of dusk, a plea whispered softly in the breeze, “Untie me…” A yearning, aching melody that echoes through the chambers of the heart. With each step, a delicate dance through the tapestry of seasons, I seek solace in the rustling of autumn leaves, the tender embrace of springtime fields. Each raindrop a caress, a reminder of your touch that lingers on my skin. Words caught in my throat like thorns, suffocating the unsaid truths that beg to be released. My gaze, veiled from the world outside, seeking solace in the shelter of your eyes that hold the … Continue reading Let me forget my sorrows

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I love …

beatrizesmer

I love bluntly, for pleasure, union of the vertebrae, conjunction of the knees, saucy, beautifully, overdose of courage and for not having judgment, lack of occupation, longing, rules. I love the looks, the moonlight, the taste of the kiss, the naughty smiles, joy without reason and feet off the ground. I love the feeling of belonging to my love, by the cold in the hands, shivering legs, goosebumps at the back of the neck. I also love because loving gives me thousands of butterflies in my stomach. I love the absence of theories to love. I love because I get … Continue reading I love …

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Take my hand

beatrizesmer

In the quiet embrace of the night, I offer you a choice that echoes through the chambers of my heart. A choice so profound, it stirs the very essence of our souls. Will you choose to rest your weary head upon the soft curve of my chest, finding solace in the rhythm of my heartbeat? Or will you choose to etch your final breaths onto the delicate parchment of my poetry, forever immortalized in the ink of my love? In this moment of vulnerability, I lay bare my deepest desires before you, hoping that you will see the depth of … Continue reading Take my hand

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My love

beatrizesmer

My heart whispers, “Please, take me, awaken me from this slumber.” For even in the cold embrace of the season, it remains steadfast in love, awaiting the warmth of the sun and the light that dances in your eyes. Like the maple, my heart lies dormant too, waiting for the touch of your hand to bring it back to life. To feel the stirrings of love and passion once more, to bloom like the flowers in spring, and to bask in the radiance of your presence. So, my love, take my heart and let it beat in sync with yours. … Continue reading My love