Tag: poetry

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Let me be your poem

beatrizesmer

I am the wretched orange sky, a canvas painted with the hues of a dying sun, aching for the cool embrace of night. I am the thirsty desert ridge, yearning for the touch of rain to quench my parched soul. I could be your poem, a melody of words whispered in the wind, a symphony of emotions woven into the fabric of your being. I might be the rhyme to your reason, the missing piece to your puzzle, the answer to your unspoken questions. I am the frustration poured into your veins, the subtle ache that lingers in the depths … Continue reading Let me be your poem

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Everything is temporary, except love

beatrizesmer

Lay me down by the gentle river, where the water whispers secrets of the past and the wind carries memories of love lost and found. Lay me down by the long tree, its branches reaching out like arms to hold me close, as I pray in sympathy for your heart to find peace. Rise with me, as the sun paints the sky with hues of gold and pink, a new day dawning with the promise of hope and renewal. Believe that I am there beside you, guiding you through the darkness with a light that never fades. By your hand, … Continue reading Everything is temporary, except love

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If we knew the last goodbye

beatrizesmer

In the quiet threshold of fleeting moments, where time dances delicately on the edge of eternity, a profound realization settles like a gentle whisper in the heart. If only we could grasp the weight of finality in the fragile beauty of passing moments, we might hold tighter, love fiercer, and cherish deeper. If I knew that this is the last time you pass through this door, I would not let the moment slip away in the silent shadows of regret. I would reach out, embrace you with the tenderness of a thousand sunsets, imprinting the memory of your touch upon … Continue reading If we knew the last goodbye

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Person

beatrizesmer

There is a hidden world within each person we encounter, a world of beauty and complexity that often goes unnoticed in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It is a world filled with thoughts that dance like fireflies in the night, feelings that ebb and flow like the tides, and emotions that can shake us to our very core. We are surrounded by a tapestry of souls, each one unique and intricate in its design. Yet, how often do we take the time to truly see and appreciate the depth of those around us? How often do we stop … Continue reading Person

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Love: a force cannot be tamed

beatrizesmer

In the heart of the forest, I wandered aimlessly, losing myself amidst the towering trees that whispered secrets of the past. Each tree bore scars of our love, etched with our names like a map of memories. The birds above sang melodies that once brought me joy, but now only served as a painful reminder of what once was. As I ventured deeper into the shadows, a sliver of sunlight pierced through the canopy, illuminating my path. The darkness threatened to consume me, but I pressed on, knowing that the journey was worth the risk. Each step I took was … Continue reading Love: a force cannot be tamed

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War

beatrizesmer

The rapid-fire bullet pierced the heavy morning air, shattering the tranquility of dawn. The dew-covered grass trembled under the weight of the violence that unfolded, a stark contrast to the fragile veil of night that still lingered. There was no beauty in the song of guns, no romance in the cacophony of destruction. It was the relentless march of inevitability, cutting through innocence and guilt alike. War, with its indiscriminate fury, was a scourge that could not be reasoned with or appeased. As the mortar shells exploded and the grenades echoed in the distance, I found myself enveloped in a … Continue reading War

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Music

beatrizesmer

In life, each of us holds a unique instrument – our heart, our soul, our very essence. It is our duty, our calling, to compose new music with which to live. To let our hearts sing, to let our souls dance to the rhythm of our own creation. For those who choose silence, who stand on the sidelines of life, know that your heart will ache for the melodies it craves. The world will pass by, carrying with it the songs of joy and sorrow, of love and loss. Do not let the music slip through your fingers, do not … Continue reading Music

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Memories

beatrizesmer

It was a dream, a distant memory that lingered in the recesses of my mind. A time of long waits and holidays spent without the warmth of affection. But none of that mattered, because we had each other. We found solace in our childhood games, creating a world of our own where love and laughter filled the air. Balmy summer nights were spent under the stars, the sweet scent of mandarin peels wafting through the air. The sound of music drifted from the neighbor’s house, the familiar tunes of The Beatles filling our hearts with joy. I can still see … Continue reading Memories

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3 am

beatrizesmer

In the hushed embrace of 3 am, when the world slumbers and dreams dance in the shadows, an abandoned city whispers its secrets to the lonely soul wandering its empty streets. My heart, a restless wanderer in this desolate landscape, seeks solace in the silence, yet finds only echoes of its own longing. The streets, devoid of memories or traces of my existence, offer no comfort, no familiarity to cling to. This city, a silent sentinel of sorrow, cradles me in its melancholy embrace as the dawn approaches with a heavy heart. Everything and nothing converge in the stillness of … Continue reading 3 am

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Scribbles

beatrizesmer

In the margins of existence, amidst the blank spaces that life presents, there lie the intricate textile of our souls – the scribbles of ourselves, of others, and the doodles that dance across the canvas of our days. Each stroke, each curve, a reflection of our innermost thoughts, a glimpse into the kaleidoscope of our emotions. In the symphony of ink and paper, we find the echoes of yesterday and today intertwined, a mosaic of memories and dreams, of hopes and fears. The lines we draw speak volumes, whispering secrets to those who care to listen, painting a portrait of … Continue reading Scribbles