Tag: poem

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The Unyielding Presence of Pain

beatrizesmer

Pain, a relentless actress, takes center stage in the theater of life. She dons many masks, each more haunting than the last. She is the tight smile that conceals a storm, the hunched heart burdened by invisible weights, the knot that twists and turns within our chests. Her presence is undeniable, her grip unyielding. Yet, pain is not merely an antagonist. She is a force that rusts and ages, disarming us with her raw power. She leaves an indelible mark, impressing upon us the depths of our own vulnerability. But in her wake, she also brings recovery and relief. She … Continue reading The Unyielding Presence of Pain

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Primal Instincts

beatrizesmer

I slip into your skin, a trespasser in the temple of longing. The air thickens, charged with anticipation—a prelude to the tempest that awaits. My fingers trace the contours of your existence, mapping constellations of secrets etched upon your canvas. Your skin—oh, your skin—is parchment for whispered confessions. Each pore, a wellspring of stories waiting to be inked. I read you like a sacred text, deciphering the hieroglyphs of desire. My eyes, those curious voyagers, drink from your wells of vulnerability. They savor the taste of vulnerability—the sweet ache of surrender. And then, our lips collide—a cataclysm of need. There’s … Continue reading Primal Instincts

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Memoire Oubliée

beatrizesmer

Tes yeux sont si profonds que j’y perds la mémoire. Your eyes—their irises like twin galaxies—hold secrets older than constellations. They are wellsprings of forgotten tales, where the past and present entwine, and the future hesitates, unsure of its own script. I imagine tracing the contours of your gaze—the delicate arch of your brow, the crescent moons etched beneath your lashes. Each blink, a shutter capturing fragments of existence: stolen kisses, whispered promises, the scent of rain on cobblestone streets. And within those depths, memory unravels like a vintage tapestry. Perhaps it was a moonlit soirée, where laughter swirled like … Continue reading Memoire Oubliée

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The Unseen Ensemble

beatrizesmer

In the noisy chambers of my being, I harbor multitudes—a kaleidoscope of selves, each with its own story etched upon the walls of my heart. They are not mere figments; they are the architects of my existence, the dreamers who whisper secrets in moonlight. Within me, there is the wanderer—the one who craves distant shores and the taste of salt on wind-kissed lips. She wears the scent of forgotten places, and her eyes hold the map of constellations. She yearns for horizons beyond the mundane, where the sky is an open canvas waiting for her brushstroke. Beside her stands the … Continue reading The Unseen Ensemble

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I Declare My Fragilities and My Fears

beatrizesmer

I declare my fragilities and my fears. They are the delicate threads that weave the fabric of my soul—the warp and weft of vulnerability. I am weak, yes, and small—a mere mote of stardust adrift in the cosmic expanse. But within this fragility lies a quiet strength, a resilience born of surrender. Let Me Walk in Beauty Let me walk in beauty, for beauty is the language of the divine. The red and purple sunsets—their hues bleeding across the canvas of the sky—are my hymns. I drink them in, these fleeting moments of grace, and they nourish me. They remind … Continue reading I Declare My Fragilities and My Fears

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Echoes of August

beatrizesmer

In the quietude of August, when the sun hangs low and shadows stretch across the land, there exists a melody—an ancient refrain that transcends time and memory. It is a song born from the heart of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, etched into the very atoms that witnessed devastation and rebirth. August tunes, like a weathered gramophone, wind its spindle through the years. It replays a tearful symphony—an elegy for lost souls, for cities turned to ash, for the fragile threads of humanity severed by the unforgiving hand of war. The notes, once vibrant, now carry the weight of history—a requiem whispered … Continue reading Echoes of August

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The Eternal Dance of Awakening

beatrizesmer

In the distant future, where time dissolves into dreams and reality intertwines with fantasy, I find myself awakening. I wake to the gentle sound of the wind whispering ancient secrets, or perhaps it’s the sunlight, softly caressing my skin, bringing me back to the world of the living. Each awakening is a dance between forgetting and remembering, a game of hide and seek with the truth. Sometimes, the truth is a shy visitor, revealing itself slowly, in fragments of memories and glimpses of past lives. Other times, it is an overwhelming storm, dragging us out of the comfort of sleep, … Continue reading The Eternal Dance of Awakening

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Prose Inspired by Heart Whispers

beatrizesmer

In the quiet moments of solitude, when the world hushes its incessant chatter, listen carefully to the rustle of your heart. It is in these delicate whispers that the essence of your being reveals itself. Tiny gusts of wind swish through your ventricles, creating a symphony of heavy chimes that resonate with the depth of your soul. Those who truly love you are drawn to your side, summoned by the silent whistle of your heart’s melody. You are an exquisite reprint of a Frida Kahlo painting, a masterpiece of vibrant colors and profound emotions. Each brushstroke tells a story of … Continue reading Prose Inspired by Heart Whispers

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Yearning Under the Moon’s Gaze

beatrizesmer

It felt as though someone had rifled through the intimate drawers of my soul, exposing my vulnerabilities under the harsh glare of reality. I would often find myself at the window, gazing at the miniature cars below, swirling like dry leaves in the wind, while I silently reread letters that had long lost their voices. In those moments, I yearned for wings instead of limbs, to break free from the confines of my existence and soar between the towering buildings. Your fiery eyes burned into me, surrounding me with an intensity that I couldn’t escape, yet I chose not to … Continue reading Yearning Under the Moon’s Gaze

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Intrinsic Poetry

beatrizesmer

In the dawn, when the world is still wrapped in the gentle embrace of sleep, there exists a being whose very essence is poetry. This poetry is not confined to the pages of a book or the verses of a song; it is etched into the very fabric of their existence. It begins with the strength of their biceps, where each sinew and muscle tell a story of resilience and grace. The distance between their elbow and wrist is a journey, a path lined with the whispers of dreams and the echoes of past triumphs. Even their shoe size, a … Continue reading Intrinsic Poetry