Lunar

And because i know that time always deceives us

that it is never perfect because time  always fails with us

and, therefore, it is little, it is time, it is few

 that our words do not complete us

 our sight do not reach us

I to you, you to me

So… i am Lunar… I have to be

because i seek a pattern

 i need … The soundness of your look

that lies within our absence

and that fills each one of us with nothing

lunar-eclipse-2010

And because  you are Intention

You rule the seasons

sometimes warm me, sometimes you are my solitude….

 the little, the few, the nothing  you gave me

runs through the lunar cycle and back again to warm me  up

and i love you for that

Medieval Love

I think it’s time to write

I think speak directly interfere in something more sublime.

Our silence. Our medieval melodic line.

Unhurried!
We need to respect
The  pause … between our breaths.
Restoring the hearts to normal beats.
When possible! If possible!
So when we do not talk , when in silence and in solitude is allowed to us

an intense feeling….
inside the restlessness and the remembrance
ours minds flow loose.

All is revive! Sudenly!

And how we are simple, and naive, Love silently weaves its dominion over us.

But we do not know it.

We are concerned to hold tied the strong beats
and avoiding to listen the melodic sound
and avoiding to fell that little pain, that charm that have remained for so long.

Listen carrefully!

Those who fall in love, usually need to apologize for the long silence that is established between them. But the silence and solitude ennobles us . It is the pause and the slow pace that precede a high feeling.

If love can be in that way. Innocent and simple. I think we love each other!Picou,_Henri_Pierre_-_Romeo_and_Juliet

Búzios Bay

tonight the tide is so, so  low
waning
and  i , numbed by the silence
by that comes and goes
unceasing

Unceasing!

so dull and shallow

less than the moves of the waves
it is  one soft  touch, a rustle in my year

in my senses!

sliding over the grains of the sand
all in the beach was   dead and quiet
I did not dare to  move as we were patners tonight

as we were salty and predictable

low tide, flood tide….

I just ventured  to  inhale the woody perfum

a scent of solitude it was  allowed

not just to me

but to us

there, in that moment….

as my heart aches  one Big  Sky

appears to me
Gorgeous !
but unchanged as it is my will

in that night, in that Bay
just across the stillness of the world
and an anarchic glow in the sky

I could remember you

Oh!
But It is  summer night in Búzios Bay

Buzios night

Crude and Uneven

 

i dont know what i hope for
when i search for  your hidden face

and i count
the few  words that were said

if they come to make me equal
or
if they are spoken just

to confirm the loneliness

Unaccomplished!

what i really  know is that
in the  domain of silence

does not fit all

does not contain all

Because

things keeps running in my hopeless ambition
the bite of the lips
the look of love
the hands shaking

images created

by listing

whom could you be

The language of your distance hurts me
and it comes in odd & even  days

to be sure

that i am still  crude and uneven

without you!Victoria de Samothrace

Into the Bad Night

Into the bad night
i mourns over your body
and i lit two candles

I received the clear message
of loneliness …

Sealed on me   just the  memory

the wax
melted and burning my hands

when i was tired

I blew on your candles
and l lighted others

These, The Wind Alone
overblow
I had no  pain or burns

again

treacherous and dreadful way!

I just took care of my hands

How i am brief! turquia

Dear Sylvia

Dear Sylvia
So you know….as we were talking days ago
i was interrupted by the time
so short between us

I tried as you tried…one, two and three
Be happy it is not for poets

I dont give up and i think you don’t gave up also
You just was carved in marble…
classical

I had no time to look and say goodby

But lies above …as a shadow , as a cloud…
Full of rain, and lightnings….heavy
Mixed with my feelings
As a second identity of me
was good…
You… a ghost living at the third floor
Of my unconsciousness

I like bees…the hum …you know
Bees are so so fat and noisily fun
But not a box of bee
They are dangerous and they aren’t for us

I discovered through you
We try because of others
When we absorve the others shadows
Becoming dark …their darkness melted in us

So many wishes… who is the owner?
becoming a reflection of their desires
constant splashes on the river bank
The mirrors ..you know
But must be a place
to hide …maybe to rest

and i ask to myself if there has not room
without solitude, without cold

And no heaven, no hell
at least… not a shortcut… nothing so fast

Sylvia Plath

maybe God will build
a silent spot… you’ll sit, i’ll sit
to watch….silence and move

as you see my dear friend
I am  trying  as you tried

but

be happy…it is not for poets

The Minuano took my Soul….

The Minuano blew hard these days
while I was still breathing warm

~as the cold ~  always precedes the cold and win
~It went away~ taking   my little steam soul

undulating in the air,  losing herself  in little drops….

   as water tea_kettle

 in a  boiling kettle
just whirling in the air
tasteless and odorless

Rising ~ capriciously  ~ to pour  into  rain~

again…..

Minuano or simply minuano Wind is the name given to the  current air  that typically affects the Brazilian states of Rio Grande do Sul, Santa Catarina and Paraná. It’s a cold wind of polar origin (Atlantic polar air mass), occurs after the passage of cold fronts of fall and winter, usually after rain.  Wikipedia.