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
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