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

Time

he is the master of my  time
old and fat with his  pirate hat

rolling over his bare feet
on gorgeous barrel of  Rum

one barrel … rolling through the rough sea

 the man the barrel and the waves

they are the symbol of the  time

a time that i cant understand

but i am here, living
and he is there counting, turning and laughing

I do not know what it means
he just sent me a vivid picture

he wants me to believe that he’s a cartoon
but he  is nothas been for so long.jpg

and   mercilessly he cast  an   enigma into  the time

But this has  been  for so long!

Please!

This has  been for so long!

 

 

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

Seasons Time

Seasons time are for lonely hearts

they think about spring
it is coming with good things
they thought if summer arrives
will bring some sunshine to their lifesnowy gateBut the Poet season comes and
autumn … is  someone , something that gone away
long, long time ago

and what is important goes away so quickly

Season’s thoughts are for sad Poets
measuring their life in slices of time

reaping feelings, undone love, tears drops
in front a snowy gate

what we  must do?

if cold is a place where all is stolen from us
If winter is the best  harvest season
and comes ravenous against our souls

Have We Meet Each Other Before?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

its does not matter your age
i can simply love you
at seventeen or seventy

at seventeen as a boy
and i’ll laugh from you
and teach you the sweetness of life

at seventy as a man
probably i would loved you
pausing your hands in my

there has a room between us
may you ask me why
is because ~where is the 30, 40 and 50~?

i read  about that and i saw this love
in a movie…so
i dont know anything how big love is

If yours are so so immense
as a lake…
if you can be the mirror over what happens

~inside my heart~

and all is equal
my love…your love…
strange and infinity

 

Have we meet each other

Before?

 

 

I ask you…. have i loved you one time…in my  life?
as the time pass by
together ….with a Changed Love?

 

 

 

does not matter

at seventeen or seventy

Is love anyway

 

The Old Man

the angry man don’t say one single word
because has no one to hear him
maybe he don’t speak the vow  anymore
and simply gave up….

pergaminho
even the poets don’t remember to write about him
all pens fall in silence
all books are closed
in pages ~unfolding~  in blank

white…white…..
the effect  of so many desires…..

fall down the sheets from the shelf
they fly searching for others hands
to complete itself.. to write the verses
they missed the ink and the wet
needed for remembering

dropping in  autumn ~ as  petals  ~
felled by the indifference

~in response~

not even one sound…
when touching the ground

and as result….

the angry man so..so.. old
slaughtered by the own silence

Calendar

inside my chest

~write that in your appointments ~

once, has lived an open door
at nights and in the coming and going of our moons
i ran, in hurry, closing your hours

losing a bit of my taste
my salt stayed  in my first rhyme
back~ there~

~mark that in your daily book~

and the moon on top and down the doorPocket Watch in Sand
ajar, a silver light comes in
hours is running out
and I smile ~now totally sweet~ of

all these records on your calendar