Tag: writing

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Life mystery

beatrizesmer

In the embrace of time’s relentless dance, all that I hold dear will fade, wither, and return to the earth. Every joy, every tender moment, every living thing born from my own flesh, will one day be consumed by the passage of time. The gardens and fields, the silent lilies that grace the woods, the ancient trees that stand as sentinels on the hills, and the very earth itself—all will eventually reclaim what they have given. Let the world heap its sorrows upon me, envelop me in the shroud of darkness without stars, so that I may come to understand … Continue reading Life mystery

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The voices of the excluded

beatrizesmer

Do you know what haunts me, what lingers in the shadows of my mind, and what I long to share with you? It is not the cold, impersonal statistics that weigh heavy on my heart, but the intangible echoes of human emotion that have passed through here. The sighs of vulnerability, the quiet whispers of fear, and the silent pleas for solace, they were in the thousands among the one hundred thousand. Each one a soul, a story, a life caught in a moment of profound vulnerability. I am haunted by the tears that have fallen, their unspoken sorrows and … Continue reading The voices of the excluded

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Rain

beatrizesmer

In the midst of the relentless rain and the persistent tapping of the wind against my window, I find myself drawn to the act of writing. The rain, with its gentle pitter-patter, has always held a mysterious allure for me. It stirs something within my soul, coaxing out words that have long been dormant, waiting to be released. Perhaps it is the way the rain and the silence intertwine, creating a symphony of their own. A melody that speaks in whispers, carrying secrets and stories within its gentle cadence. Or perhaps it is the realization that the rain falls not … Continue reading Rain

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This body

beatrizesmer

Within this vessel of flesh and bone resides the celestial dance of the cosmos. Here, in this mortal frame, the sun and the moon converge, casting their light upon the tapestry of existence. The stars twinkle within the depths of these eyes, mirroring the boundless expanse of the universe. The ebb and flow of the oceans pulse within these veins, a rhythm that echoes the heartbeat of creation itself. In the sanctum of this being, joy weaves its radiant tapestries, casting hues of elation across the canvas of experience. Yet, it coexists with loneliness, a silent companion that whispers in … Continue reading This body

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Your name

beatrizesmer

I long to fill my mouth with your name, to savor the syllables that make up the core of your existence. To roll each letter on my tongue, relishing the sweetness of your name as it glides across my lips like a melody. Your name, a whispered prayer that lingers in the air, a symphony of sounds that harmonizes with the beat of my heart. Your name, a tapestry of emotions woven into each letter, a sacred incantation that conjures memories and dreams. I long to hold it on my breath, to release it into the world like a secret … Continue reading Your name

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Where are the verses for those amazing women?

beatrizesmer

Where are the verses for the women who defy the warnings of their mothers, forging their own paths through a world that bruises them with prejudice? What words will paint their stories, capturing the resilience in their new tongues and the scars of their battles? Shall we cast these poems into the depths of the sea, watching them sink beneath the waves as if the struggles of imperfect daughters do not deserve to be heard? As if their wounds do not bleed, their hearts do not ache, and their spirits do not rise from the ashes of self-doubt? Who are … Continue reading Where are the verses for those amazing women?

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Hourglass …

beatrizesmer

In this place, there lingers the scent of countless empty years, a musty fragrance that clings to the air like a ghostly remnant of time’s passage. Each page, weathered and worn, tells a story of days long gone, their sepia tones a testament to the relentless march of time. Dust dances in the stillness, stirred only by the breath of half-hearted readers, their presence a mere echo of the past. Here, time seems to stand still, suspended in a realm where the boundaries between past, present, and future blur into a hazy continuum. The half-dead readers, lost in the labyrinth … Continue reading Hourglass …

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Find someone that makes you feel like a poem …

beatrizesmer

Find someone whose heart beats in rhythm with yours, someone who will tremble at the thought of your touch. Seek out a soul whose very essence is a symphony of emotions, whose fingers are like a poet’s pen, crafting verses of tenderness and passion upon your skin. In their touch, you will find a language of love, a silent poetry that speaks volumes. Each caress will be a verse, each embrace a stanza, weaving a tale of longing, desire, and connection. Their touch will be a canvas, painting a masterpiece of intimacy and understanding. Find someone who understands the power … Continue reading Find someone that makes you feel like a poem …

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Sometimes, love exists, sometimes, love can only be heard …

beatrizesmer

Sometimes, love exists in the quiet moments, in the spaces between words and actions. It is a force that transcends language, a feeling that cannot be contained by mere expressions. Sometimes, it is all beautiful without the need for words, a symphony of emotions that echoes through our souls. In those moments, love is understood, a shared connection that requires no explanation. It is a bond that is felt, a warmth that envelops us, a sense of belonging that fills our hearts. It is a language of the heart, a communication that goes beyond the spoken word. Yet, there are … Continue reading Sometimes, love exists, sometimes, love can only be heard …

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The poet

beatrizesmer

The poet, a weaver of dreams and emotions, holds the sacred authority to spin their reveries into verses, to breathe life into the intangible and paint the world with their imagination. Their pen is a conduit for the depths of their soul, an instrument that gives voice to the unspoken and shapes the formless. In this realm of poetic sovereignty, the poet’s words need not seek validation or agreement. They are free to wander through the labyrinth of their thoughts, to explore the uncharted territories of their mind, and to capture the fleeting whispers of their heart. For the poet’s … Continue reading The poet