Tag: poem

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My home

beatrizesmer

My home is not a mere place, not just bricks and mortar, but a yearning that resides deep within, obscured by the hustle and bustle of daily life. It is a longing that transcends physical boundaries and material possessions. My home is the people who fill my heart with warmth, love, and understanding. It is the laughter, the tears, the shared moments that weave the tapestry of my existence. My home is not confined to four walls, but it encompasses the vast expanse of life itself. It is the symphony of nature, the rustling leaves, the whispering winds, and the … Continue reading My home

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Gentle whisper of peace

beatrizesmer

You are a gentle whisper in the breeze, untouched and pure, like gazing upon a tranquil wind caressing little trees and open landscapes. Your skin evokes the serenity of endless peace, stretching out for miles and miles, a boundless expanse that soothes the soul. I trust you as I trust the steadfast evergreens, rooted in their simplicity, like the unchanging horizons that stretch into eternity. In you, there resides a peculiar, barefoot beauty, forever in motion, yet never fleeting. It is a beauty that dances with the wind, a grace that lingers in every step, promising to stay, to endure. … Continue reading Gentle whisper of peace

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There are things we come back to …

beatrizesmer

There are threads that pull us back, anchors that tether our souls to the moments that resonate with the deepest parts of our being. There are people who etch themselves into the very fabric of our existence, weaving themselves into the tapestry of our hearts, leaving an indelible mark that time cannot erase. There are places that beckon us, whispering secrets of nostalgia and familiarity, where the air hums with the melody of memories and the sighs of belonging. These are the places that sing and sigh, where every corner holds a story and every cobblestone whispers of bygone days. … Continue reading There are things we come back to …

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It was on my thighs he would find summer even in crippling winter

beatrizesmer

In the depths of winter’s embrace, he sought solace in the warmth of her thighs, finding a haven of summer amidst the icy grip of the season. There, nestled against her skin, he discovered a sanctuary where the chill of the world could not reach. Her thighs became a canvas of comfort, a place where the frost of life melted away, replaced by the gentle caress of sunlight and the whisper of a warm breeze. In the curve of her flesh, he found respite from the harshness of the world, a refuge where he could find renewal and rejuvenation. In … Continue reading It was on my thighs he would find summer even in crippling winter

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Love devoured all of me …

beatrizesmer

Love devoured my state and my city, consuming all in its path. It drained the swamps of stagnant water, abolishing the tides. It feasted on the curly mangroves and stiff leaves, consuming the vibrant green of sugarcane plants that adorned the rolling hills. It sliced through the red barriers, the little black train, and the chimneys. Love devoured the scent of cut cane and the tang of salt air. It devoured those things that I longed to know, but never captured in verse. Love devoured every day not advertised in leaflets. It devoured the minutes ticking away on my watch, … Continue reading Love devoured all of me …

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It is the time, time …

beatrizesmer

Knocking on the front door, it is the time, the air heavy with unspoken words. I take a sip, hoping for courage, but my voice falters into awkward silence. Time laughs, taunting me with memories of tears shed, knowing the passage of moments while I remain lost in its currents. On a blue summer day, the wind whispers through my soul, rustling the leaves of my heart. It’s time, a time to recall a love lost, and time chuckles, claiming we are alike, if only I’d realized, for I do not know how to hold on, and neither does it. … Continue reading It is the time, time …

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Pay attention to the little things

beatrizesmer

In the delicate dance of life, it’s the subtle nuances that whisper the truth. The heavy sighs that linger in the air, the awkward silences that speak volumes, the hesitant words that falter on the tongue – they are the silent messengers, bearing secrets untold. Pay heed to the little things, for they are the breadcrumbs that lead to the heart’s hidden chambers. The weight of a sigh, the weight of a heavy heart; the awkward silence, a reflection of unspoken turmoil; the hesitant speech, a veil for unspoken fears. In the quiet spaces between words, in the pregnant pauses, … Continue reading Pay attention to the little things

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Something to be thankful for

beatrizesmer

I sincerely hope that, today and every day, each and everyone finds something for which to be thankful. Many people struggle at this time of year because there is something or someone missing in their lives. I most certainly empathize with those people, as we can all find something that we lack and are missing in our lives.What about the people and things DO have in your lives? If you focus on what have, instead of what you do not have, in your life, your outlook on life is a bit sweeter. I truly wish you a cup filled with … Continue reading Something to be thankful for

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How do you become a poem?

beatrizesmer

To become a poem, you must first shed the weight of the past, burn bridges as you cross them, and find the courage to step into the unknown. Instead of drowning in the depths of regret, you learn to swim, to navigate the currents of life with grace and resilience. With each stroke, you carve your path through the waters of experience, shaping your journey into verses that resonate with the essence of love. You become a symphony of words; a tapestry of emotions woven from the threads of your heart. To become a poem, you must embrace the flames … Continue reading How do you become a poem?

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I will love you …

beatrizesmer

I will love you until the stars refuse to twinkle, and the moon forgets to rise, until the sun wearies of its endless dance across the sky. I will love you until the very essence of nature rebels against its own design, until the bird spurns its nest, and the worm turns from the apple, until the apple shuns the tree, and the tree forsakes the nest. As time weaves its intricate tapestry, I will love you through the ebb and flow of our days, as we grow older, as we find ourselves drifting apart, and as the world spins … Continue reading I will love you …