Tag: poetry

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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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The Abyss of War

beatrizesmer

In the stillness of dawn, the air was shattered by the piercing cry of bullets, slicing through the delicate veil of night and dew. The symphony of war, devoid of beauty or romance, echoed with the heavy footsteps of death’s inevitable march. It moved indiscriminately, claiming both the guilty and the innocent, a relentless force that knew no discernment. War’s apologists spoke of the fog of conflict, but we knew it to be the searing breath of a monstrous hunger, consuming all in its path. Some were spat out, many swallowed, into the grim depths from which there was no … Continue reading The Abyss of War

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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

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The Symphony of Existence

beatrizesmer

I hold the dawn in my palms, its gentle warmth a constant in the ebb and flow of life, much like the love I feel for my family and friends. It’s a bond woven from shared laughter and silent nods, a connection that needs no words, only presence. The blues of the sky are my emotions laid bare; cerulean is my laughter under the sun, indigo my deep twilight musings. Each shade is a verse in the story of my life, a narrative told in colors. Standing naked under the sun, I shed the world’s layers, baring my soul to … Continue reading The Symphony of Existence

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The Lost White Box

beatrizesmer

In the quiet solitude of the night, I stumbled upon a discovery, hidden in the recesses of my closet. A lost white box, unassuming in its appearance, yet brimming with fragments of my existence. It was as if I had unearthed a time capsule, a treasure trove of moments frozen in time. The box cradled clippings of me, snippets of my past, each one a thread woven into the tapestry of my life. They were echoes of laughter, whispers of tears, and silent screams, all encapsulated within this humble container. A knot in the stomach, a visceral reminder of the … Continue reading The Lost White Box

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The Many Faces of Being

beatrizesmer

Between heartbeats, I exist. Not as a fixed entity, but as a chameleon of existence. I am always as you see me—fluid, mutable, and unyielding. I can be something or everything. When dawn tiptoes across the sky, I am the dew-kissed petal, fragile and hopeful. Yet, when the moon hangs heavy, I become the vastness of the cosmos, stitching constellations into stories. I can be the sun shining or the thunder roaring. In the golden hours, I am the sun’s warm embrace, casting shadows that dance upon the earth. But when tempests gather, I transform into the electric fury of … Continue reading The Many Faces of Being