Tag: poem

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I am a woman who resides in every line I write …

beatrizesmer

If the words are memories of love, then I write to awaken the love within me. Poetry is the tender embrace on the other side, a kindness preserved in the eyes of a lover. And if it is not the poet who translates the silences, and if poetry is a collection of endless possibilities, then who am I? I am a woman who resides in every line I write, even if they never find me, they reveal the essence of my being through each word. Even if I cannot be fully unveiled in each verse, I exist in a kingdom … Continue reading I am a woman who resides in every line I write …

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Être fort …

beatrizesmer

Être fort, c’est un fardeau que l’on porte en silence. C’est sourire même lorsque les larmes menacent de submerger notre âme. C’est rayonner de bonheur, même lorsque les ténèbres menacent de nous engloutir. C’est offrir le pardon à ceux qui ne le méritent pas, et attendre sans espoir de retour. C’est rester calme dans les tourments du désespoir, et offrir la joie quand notre cœur est en peine. Être fort, c’est cacher nos propres tourments derrière un sourire radieux, c’est étouffer nos sanglots pour offrir un visage serein. C’est offrir du bonheur à ceux qui nous entourent, même lorsque notre … Continue reading Être fort …

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My heart onto the pages …

beatrizesmer

I am transcribing the rhythm of my heart onto these pages, etching the echoes of my soul onto the delicate parchment, so that one day, long after I have departed this world, my essence will linger, as tangible as a stack of composition notebooks. In every word, I weave the tapestry of my being, each sentence a brushstroke of my existence. I pour my dreams, my fears, my triumphs, and my vulnerabilities into these pages, creating a symphony of emotions that will resonate through time. I am etching my spirit onto the fibers of these pages, creating an indelible imprint … Continue reading My heart onto the pages …

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Waste

beatrizesmer

Wasted are the days where the skin beneath our clothes doesn’t get to touch people’s souls. There’s a profound longing in the unspoken yearning for connection, for the intimate dance of bare skin against the backdrop of shared vulnerability. In a world where barriers and boundaries often eclipse the raw beauty of human connection, we yearn for the simple yet profound act of baring our souls to one another. The touch of skin becomes a conduit for the unspoken language of empathy and understanding, a bridge that transcends the limitations of words. There’s a sacredness in the meeting of two … Continue reading Waste

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To a little black bird in my chest …

beatrizesmer

I am writing for the little blackbird in my chest; she used to be a bluebird, with a throat made of honey, but now she smokes all my tar, and drinks all my wine. Once, she soared through the azure expanse of my soul, her song a symphony of sweetness, her wings aglow with the light of hope. Her melody wove through the chambers of my heart, a lullaby that brought solace to my weary spirit. But as the shadows lengthened and the world grew heavy, she turned to the bitter taste of tar, the suffocating embrace of smoke. Her … Continue reading To a little black bird in my chest …

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Go deeper …

beatrizesmer

Love deeper than the surface, where the shallow tides of appearance ebb and flow. Delve into the depths where hearts intertwine and souls entwine, where the true essence of connection resides. Beyond the veneer of fleeting beauty, seek the enduring radiance that emanates from within, the kind that transcends the boundaries of time and space. If you love what you see, go deeper. Peer beyond the transient facade and into the labyrinth of emotions, where vulnerability and authenticity intertwine. Embrace the complexities that lie beneath the surface, for it is there that the most profound connections are forged. Beauty deeper … Continue reading Go deeper …

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My home …

beatrizesmer

My home is a shrine to my womanliness, a sanctuary where my essence is woven into every corner and crevice. It is a tapestry of textures, art, books, and photographs, a symphony of patterns that dance together to please my senses and reflect the depths of my being. Just as my home is an extension of my desires, a manifestation of my eclectic mix of wants, needs, and passions, my soul is a kaleidoscope of emotions, joys, and unresolved pain. Each desire stands as a testament to my journey, telling its own compelling story and propelling me toward love and … Continue reading My home …

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Winds of love …

beatrizesmer

The air unfurls, warm and untamed, slipping through my fingers like a secret whispered by the wind. If these words resonate within you, igniting a sensation akin to the moon resting upon your neck, I humbly apologize, for they were already entwined in love long before they spilled from my lips. Each syllable, a tender echo of emotions that have danced within me, yearning to find their way into the world. They were born from the depths of my being, carrying the weight of love and longing, and now they seek to find solace in the hearts of those who … Continue reading Winds of love …

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Come on!

beatrizesmer

Come on! Let’s live in a verse by Garcia Lorca, where the rhythm of a guitar sets the pace, and the air is filled with a sweet song’s embrace. Hand in hand, let’s walk together, through the Boulevard of old dreams, where memories linger and time gleams. Let’s recycle stagnant emotions, and laugh with sincerity, bringing accomplices to celebrate our bravery. We’ll toast to our triumphs, and make ecstasy our creed, feeling the same wonder for life as we do for the stars that lead. I invite you to believe, to say yes without delay, for at this moment, we … Continue reading Come on!

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If you want to talk to me …

beatrizesmer

If you want to talk to me, do not delay, for tomorrow I will be a different soul, a different ray. I will dismantle my house, my body, my being, to make room for something new, something freeing. I’ll be in the corners, selling my poems to the wind, even if no one buys, my words will be pinned. If you want to help, it has to be now, for I will soon walk through the rain alone, with a heart that’s unknown. I’ll sing and shout as I light candles bright, bleeding through the arrow, the cupid’s own flight. … Continue reading If you want to talk to me …