Tag: poetry

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Rumi

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In the grand theater of existence, the length of our performance remains a mystery. Yet, as the great poet Rumi has beautifully articulated, it is not the duration of our lives that inspires, but the intensity with which we live them. Each breath we draw, each moment we experience, is a testament to our resilience, our determination to simply exist. We are warriors in the arena of life, armed with courage and fortified by the will to survive. We fight, not against an external adversary, but against the very fragility of our existence. Our battles may be silent, our victories … Continue reading Rumi

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Attraction

beatrizesmer

In the quiet reflection of the glass, we often seek truths untold, for in the mirror’s gaze lies a story, not of years, but of the soul. It whispers not of waistlines, nor the numbers that tip the scales, but of the grace with which we stand, amidst life’s winding trails. Attraction, they say, is skin deep, but true allure is the art of poise, it’s the unspoken kindness in a glance, the warmth in a voice. It’s the smile that greets the stranger, the laughter that fills the room, the passion that ignites like fire, dispelling shadows of gloom. … Continue reading Attraction

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Celebrating the beauty of dark skin

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Skin so dark, oh geez! Screams a few ‘Hallelujah! Be proud of your skin color! In this tumultuous humanity, every shade is a brushstroke of genius, a testament to diversity’s splendor. Dark skin, a canvas rich and profound, holds the mysteries of the cosmos, the depth of the earth, and the resilience of history within its melanin-kissed hues. Oh, how it glistens under the sun’s adoring gaze, a spectrum of ebony, mahogany, and umber, each tone a verse in the poetry of pigmentation. It speaks of strength, of roots deeply entrenched, of a heritage unyielding and proud. Let the chorus … Continue reading Celebrating the beauty of dark skin

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The Wind

beatrizesmer

I am the cartographer of my own destiny, tracing paths not on ancient parchment, but across the vast canvas of the cosmos. I chase the frayed ends of sunshine, those elusive strands of light that lead me through the labyrinth of life. In my pocket, I carry not coins, but stars—luminous memories of those I’ve cherished and lost along the way. Each glimmering star a story, a whisper of love, a beacon of hope in the dark. Change is my constant companion, the currency with which I barter for new dawns and dusks. I am no mere traveler; I am … Continue reading The Wind

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My Nocturnal Reveries

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As dusk gives way to the night’s embrace, my thoughts unfurl into a grand amphitheater of introspection. The stage is set, the spotlight dims, and the performance of my psyche begins. Here, in this hallowed hall of reverie, the drapes of my mind’s eye remain ever wide, revealing a panorama of paths once trodden and words left unvoiced. A gale of remembrance encircles me, a tempest born from the whispers and shadows of yesteryear. It dances through the corridors of my being, a choreography of chaos, each step a memory, each turn a tale untold. The stillness of the night … Continue reading My Nocturnal Reveries

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My dear,

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Who has whispered such untruths into your ear? Who dared to say your skin was anything less than beautiful? Look upon the earth, rich and teeming with life, and see yourself reflected in its depth. You are the color of the fertile ground from which all flowers spring forth. In the deep, rich soil, the seeds find their strength, and blossoms unfurl in a riot of color. Your skin is the canvas of continents, the shade of soil that cradles roots and nourishes beginnings. It is the hue of strength, the tint of resilience, the shade of endless possibilities. Like … Continue reading My dear,

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Walking in another’s shoes …

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What must one do to thrive in a realm so different from their own? Is it enough to sit back, inhale deeply, and let the smoke carry away the coherent thoughts, leaving behind only the abstract musings of the night? Or is it to wander the desolate sands, where the only touch is that of a bullet’s kiss, or to endure the symphony of an infant’s cries that pierce the silence of the early hours? What fabric weaves the essence of you and me? If I step outside these walls that echo with the incessant call of ‘mom’, if I … Continue reading Walking in another’s shoes …

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30 minutes …

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In the fleeting half-hour before the world calls again, I ponder—can the essence of life be unraveled in less time than it takes for the clock to complete its cycle? Perhaps not, but the quest is not without merit. Life, in its boundless forms, from the humble dog to the majestic giant squid, from the goldfish’s silent swim to the birds’ dawn chorus, and even the magnolia buds, poised in slumber—each a thread in the tapestry of existence. It’s all life, isn’t it? A complex web, yet at its core, startlingly simple. So here I sit, with twenty-six minutes on … Continue reading 30 minutes …

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My words …

beatrizesmer

In the fabric of life, every thread tells a tale, intertwined with the hues of our encounters. As I sit here, pen in hand, the world outside fades to a whisper, and the dance of words across the page becomes my sole reality. These words are more than mere symbols; they are the embodiment of my laughter and tears, the silent witnesses to the symphony of my inner world. They are the confidants of my secrets, the carriers of my joys, and the solace for my sorrows. With each stroke of the pen, I paint a portrait of my soul, … Continue reading My words …

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100 years old

beatrizesmer

Today, I am 100 years old, my heart dances to the rhythm of a tambourine, vibrant and resonant. “Give me a kiss, my love,” I whisper, for today is not just another day—it’s a testament to a life richly lived. Stepping onto the asphalt, I feel the pulse of the city, the heartbeat of the world beneath my feet. Around us, the fools may frolic, their laughter mingling with the symphony of existence. The red traffic light, like a vigilant sentinel, halts the march of time, if only for a moment. In my pocket, a few cents jingle—the price of … Continue reading 100 years old