>

MARIETA MAGLAS

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 12/10/2014 |




Marieta Maglas

NO MORE NIGHT

You gave me your love,
while that night was pouring down.
I thought it was in Eden, in dreams.
I could hear the rain whispering your name.
Someone had bled somewhere,
wounds to be sutured.
They weren't lips.
I had learned everything about lips.
I heard the whispers of the White Tree of Gondor.
You kissed me for
kissing, kissing, kissing.
You gave me your blue love,
and I understood that you were mine.
I had you, and I could be myself.
Lips, kisses, within.
Someone had bled somewhere,
wounded lips and
sutures.
Lips, kisses, within.
I stand near you, touching you
and I wanted to stay that way forever.
You didn't ask me to stay
Never to leave.
Walls, walls, walls.
'Twas for eternity,
our love.
You couldn't ask me to stay
again and again.
You gave me your love
again and again.
I waited for the blue rain to whisper
again and again,
You didn't let me wait for my rainbow
again and again,
again and again,
again and again,
again and again,
again and again.
Once more.
'Twas the night.
No more.
'Twas no more night.
You gave me your love.



THE VICTIM (TRIPLE BOKETTO POEM)

Victims have no place to stay;
Refugees are turned away,
When the night goes down to day.
Nobody asks why.
Life is going by.


Kids need food to stay alive,
And make effort to survive
Lost in blue.


How hard is it to live there?
All their diseases are rare.
In this world wave of prayer,
Where the snakes lie,
Life is going by.


Sands fall through the hour glass.
The hope withers like the grass,
Lost in blue.


Behind the concealed mind walls,
Near the sky and the wet falls,
The life dances, the death calls
To upturn the eye.
Life is going by.


The chaos can't rise above,
When the people search for love,
Lost in blue.


THE MIRROR OF THE TRUTH

A bleeding cloud
envisioned into the mirror
of a water-eye
is like a face losing its lines,
or like a flower withering in
a falling field.

The wind developing breasts
among three limbs of a tree
is like an ancient, African, tribal woman
dancing in a wedding ceremony,
while seeking for cheerfulness.

In reality, there are only

a cloud nascent to rain,
an eye opening to peek the luminousness,
and a tree fighting to save
its own flowers.

Due to the mirrors,
everything looks like being
always complete, but
this exhaustiveness can be real or not.

In the mirror of the aqua,
never the sky can be itself, and
never its pearls can be extant.

In the mirror of a lie,
maybe the truth looks like verity,
nevertheless it may never be a certainty.


But, in the Holy mirror,
The Lord is human and
the human being is divine,
and our hearts can be candles
lightning love for our Lord.

Poem by Marieta Maglas



Comments
0 Comments

No comments:

Blogger Widgets
Powered by Blogger.