Tag: poems

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Love Settles In

beatrizesmer

In the grand fabric of life, love weaves its own intricate pattern. It arrives exactly when it’s supposed to, not a moment too soon, not a second too late. It comes in like the tide, gentle and inevitable, filling the empty spaces, making itself at home. “Welcome,” we say, our hearts fluttering like butterflies, “make yourself comfortable.” Love settles in, wraps itself around us like a warm blanket on a cold night. It becomes a part of us, a part of our story, a part of our being. It fills our days with laughter, our nights with dreams, and our … Continue reading Love Settles In

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Rules

beatrizesmer

Once upon a time, I was a prisoner of my own creation, bound by the chains of rules and regulations. I used to have rules about poetry, a world where words danced to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I counted in line, time, meter, and form, each syllable a steppingstone, each line a journey, each poem a universe unto itself. I was a puppeteer of language, fingering syllables and forking tongues, weaving tapestries of emotion and thought with the threads of words. I used to have rules about love, a labyrinth of do’s and don’ts that dictated the rhythm of … Continue reading Rules

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Tears…

beatrizesmer

Tears that streamed down my cheeks and vanished abruptly on my lips. I wept for the first time in my youth, on the initial day of detachment from beloved ones, in my teenage years, for the first love’s deceit… for the initial blemish on my face. Subsequently, I refined my weeping. I shed tears for hatred, disillusionment, disappointment, despair, agony, fear, and yearning! I also chuckled, enchanted, and elated. I wept out of loathing for those who mercilessly perpetrate atrocities against our kin. I sobbed in disillusionment and disappointment at those who maliciously betrayed my trust and all the love … Continue reading Tears…

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The Poet’s Journey

beatrizesmer

From the milk of my mother’s breast, a tender nourishment bestowed upon me, I emerged into this world—a vessel of life, a seeker of truth. The very essence of existence flowed through my veins, whispered secrets of ancient stars, and cradled my nascent soul. And then, the verses began—the delicate threads spun by the loom of my heart. Each word, a filament of longing, a filament of wonder. I wove them into tapestries of thought, embroidered with dreams and stitched with memories. They danced across the parchment, pirouetting in moonlight, their syllables like celestial notes. Prose, too, found its way … Continue reading The Poet’s Journey

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Our Story Unfolds

beatrizesmer

Our story is not yet done, whispered by the winds that carry secrets through time. We, weary travelers, bear the weight of countless sunrises and moonlit nights etched into our souls. Bruised to the bone, we wear our scars like constellations, mapping the journey of our existence. Parts of us have departed, seeking elusive balance. They wander through the labyrinth of memories, tracing the contours of forgotten dreams. Each fragment, a puzzle piece yearning to reunite with its kin, dances on the edge of destiny. In the quiet hours, we listen to the echoes of our own longing. Seeking out … Continue reading Our Story Unfolds

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The Language of Rain

beatrizesmer

Rain—the silent poet of the skies. It arrives unannounced, tapping on rooftops and windowpanes. Its language is fluid, a lexicon of whispers and sighs. Listen closely, and you’ll hear its verses—the rhythm of longing, the syntax of renewal. In the gray hours, when the world wears mist like a shroud, rain writes its first stanza. It paints the streets with liquid memories, washing away footprints and yesterday’s sorrows. Each droplet is a syllable—a soft punctuation in the story of now. On lonely afternoons, rain composes ballads. It weaves melodies from the pitter-patter on leaves, the staccato on sidewalks. The earth … Continue reading The Language of Rain

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Eternal Tides

beatrizesmer

I thought of love on a rainy day—a canvas of gray where longing dripped from the heavens. The sun, that relentless voyager, sought refuge behind veils of cloud. I wished for its retreat—for eternity—to let the world bask in the melancholy of your presence. You, my dear enigma, were the gloom—the mist that clung to ancient oaks, the fog that whispered secrets. Depth and mystery swirled within you, like hidden galaxies waiting to be explored. On that dull and darkened day, you were the riddle I yearned to unravel. And I? I was the rain—the silent messenger. I fell from … Continue reading Eternal Tides

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Before you make me love you

beatrizesmer

Before you make me love you, understand that my love is not a fleeting thing. It is not a passing fancy or a temporary infatuation. It is a deep, abiding love that will stand the test of time. It is a kind of love that will weather any storm, endure any hardship, and conquer any obstacle. Before you make me love you, know that I will give you all of me. I will give you my heart, my soul, my everything. I will love you with a passion that burns brighter than the sun, with a devotion that knows no … Continue reading Before you make me love you

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You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me

beatrizesmer

You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me. I weave their words and actions into stanzas and verses, creating a masterpiece of their essence and soul. Before they even speak, I can feel the rhythm of their being, the cadence of their existence. Every glance, every gesture, every breath becomes a line in the symphony of their presence. I find beauty in the way they move, the way they speak, the way they exist in this world. And so, I paint them with my words, capturing the essence of their being in the … Continue reading You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me

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I want to live in a house made of poetry II

beatrizesmer

I want to live in a house made of poetry, where every corner echoes with the rhythm of words and the walls are adorned with verses. In this house, the air is thick with the scent of metaphors and the floors are paved with stanzas. I would wrap myself in blankets woven from the lines of my favorite poems, feeling the warmth of their meaning seep into my bones as I drift into a slumber of lyrical dreams. When morning comes, I would bathe in the essence of poetry, letting it cleanse my spirit and awaken my senses. The words … Continue reading I want to live in a house made of poetry II