tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39703594428594666072024-03-05T05:52:45.827-03:00Blackprint PoetryIf your life is burning, then poetry is just the ash.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-20083102847096667312013-05-03T02:26:00.003-03:002013-05-03T03:11:37.716-03:00Life from the shore
The gentle tides have led me back to mellow shores<br />
where I can live and breed in unforcing times,<br />
through love and friends and the pleasure<br />
of the deeds that form the path I'll leave unmarked.<br />
<br />
And with two feet on the welcomed ground,<br />
my eyes shall stare at the waves and the ships,<br />
and the drowning, the swimmers and the drowned,<br />
uncomfortable, desperate, but living through their time.<br />
<br />
How will the old shoreman look upon his past?<br />
Do the soft memories have the might to spark<br />
a tender smile on the face whose eyes once hoped<br />
to witness the storms, the wrecks and the wonders of age?<br />
<br />
Old shoreman casts doubts on his still unravelled past.<br />
The pirate boy cries for the life he's lost.<br />
The shoreman sinks his toes in the warm sand,<br />
and reckons he missed the things he loved the most.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i>Are you at sea or walking the shores? How will your Old Shoreman look back on his past?</i></b><br />
<b><i>Please leave your comments, feelings and feedback in the comment section below.</i></b>
<b><i><br /></i></b>
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><u></u></b>
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><u>Today's Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:</u></b><br />
<br />
Paul Tobin is an author and poet who reflects his need to write in his blog: <a href="http://magpiebridge.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Magpie Bridge</a>. I've read some interesting reflections and reworks on his own poems there, and it really makes you feel as a part of the creative process. Make sure to check him out!<br />
<br />
See you next time<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-25029783043657404942013-04-29T01:24:00.003-03:002013-05-02T00:33:20.757-03:00VoidWho will find my dead dreams<br />
when this void finally leaves my soul?<br />
Who will temper my spirit<br />
before my broken wishes choke my howl?<br />
<br />
The pitch dark of nothingness<br />
unravels through this hazy room,<br />
to embrace me, hold me tight,<br />
until I can no longer move.<br />
<br />
To whom will I bequeath my hopes?<br />
To whom will I leave my fears?<br />
Darkness has left no one around me<br />
and its tender arms keep pushing in.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i>Please feel free to leave your feedback and comments below!</i></b><br />
<br />
<b><u>Today's Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:</u></b><br />
<br />
Susan Marie is a journalist, radio producer and poet from New York with a great blog that you should definetly check out. Not all of her posts are poems, but make sure to find them: I find their loose and experimental form extermely engaging. Visit her blog here:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://susanmariepr.blogspot.com.ar/">http://susanmariepr.blogspot.com</a><br />
<br />
See you next week!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-84995022479828066242013-04-03T03:33:00.002-03:002013-04-29T02:42:22.420-03:00Decay<div class="MsoNormal">
I no longer know the streets of my city. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The smoke and the lust have covered its walls.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the light, the forgotten light,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hides from the skies on clear days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cold glow of fluorescent gas lamps</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
now bear witness to the neverending pain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The wise man, the enforcer and the tribesman</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hide in the shadows casted by the blunt remains.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are no more dances in the crossroads.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No more games in the parks we used to share.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through the alleys roam the soulless in their rows</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">of death
and sin and the feeble existence of despair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b><u>Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:</u></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Today's recommendation goes to Samuel Peralta and his blog <a href="http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Semaphore</a>. Peralta is a well established and well-known free verse poet. He is an objective to all us poets who want our work to be known to the world. Gather your best poems and enter his blog for a lesson on how poetry should be made.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-82430829212558623142013-03-03T03:42:00.000-03:002013-03-03T15:13:20.829-03:00The LossMy last tear fell yesterday,<br />
<div>
and can't no longer focus on the pain.</div>
<div>
Now I've pulled the blade through my heart</div>
<div>
to slash the pictures of your face.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And the rising sun lights up</div>
<div>
to mark the swirling path ahead</div>
<div>
through the hills of deception and hope,</div>
<div>
of joy, fear and the promise of Death.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But as Time unravels through,</div>
<div>
down the slopes of life and up again</div>
<div>
it will reach the high point where I may see</div>
<div>
your steady road as it finds my own.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<b><u>Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:</u></b><br />
This week's recommendation goes to <b><a href="http://poeticalpsyche.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Poetical Psyche</a> </b>and his author Fred Rutherford. Pay him and visit at <a href="http://poeticalpsyche.blogspot.com/">http://poeticalpsyche.blogspot.com</a> and enjoy his work!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-23674806921708456912012-09-13T23:28:00.000-03:002012-09-13T23:28:42.281-03:00Tightrope<div class="MsoNormal">
Keeping my balance, I walk</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">along this thin piece of thread<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">that streches from birth to death<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">above the fires of hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">My bare feet hurt and bleed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">and the fear is many a times<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">too strong: a missed step, merely<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">a slip, keeps me from<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">the everlasting burns,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">the infinte scorching of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">my human skin and the smell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">of sweet, loving Death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">Maybe it's time I give up<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">and quit trying to hold my pace:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">play around, feel the thrill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="es">of the deadly heat upon my flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-70108669208904439452012-08-23T02:04:00.001-03:002012-08-23T02:04:25.100-03:00Pick a card<br />
Pick a card,<br />
any card,<br />
see it yourself,<br />
and show it to everyone,<br />
everyone but me.<br />
<br />
Pick a life,<br />
any life,<br />
take a tongue, a face and a name,<br />
and show yourself to everyone,<br />
everyone but me.<br />
<br />
Now choose your ways,<br />
anyway,<br />
just close your eyes and grab the tail,<br />
or either stir the line,<br />
by hastily ditching the trail.<br />
<br />
Then find your days,<br />
any day:<br />
claim the Crown you know deserve,<br />
or surrender to love,<br />
living in your own humble mistake.<br />
<br />
And meet Death,<br />
the only Death,<br />
unchanged in the comforts of a warm bed,<br />
or found in the sharply fierce claws,<br />
of a ravaging bullet’s bird.<br />
<br />
Just pick a card,<br />
any card.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-85706944663875593112012-07-19T01:04:00.001-03:002012-07-19T01:38:40.761-03:00Hurt me again<span style="background-color: white;">Hurt me again,</span><br />
and feel the gentle warmth<br />
of my crimson blood<br />
steadily flowing the trace<br />
of such a perfect face.<br />
<br />
Hurt me again,<br />
thy wounds shall never heal,<br />
for they cut deep into my skin,<br />
and bleed my soul out.<br />
<br />
Oh, hurt me no more love,<br />
and forget what was done,<br />
for we’ll know it is time,<br />
when crying upon two hazy smiles<br />
we face our last sunset,<br />
and vanish into the bright light.<br />
<br />
Hurt me no more,<br />
forget me and murder my memory,<br />
for I’d rather forsake your gentle touch,<br />
than have blood for tears.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Blackprint Poetry's recommendation</u></b><br />
Today's recommendation goes to the blog <b>My Beautiful Emotion</b> and its even more beautiful author <b><a href="https://twitter.com/KayleiiJane" target="_blank">Kayleigh Jane</a></b>, aged 17! Kayleigh's work truly amazes me: the choice of words, the themes in her poems... just incredible. Please visit her blog, it will be worth it:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://my-beautiful-emotion.blogspot.com.ar/">http://my-beautiful-emotion.blogspot.com</a><br />
<br />
See you next week!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-48059894071716072692012-07-10T15:49:00.002-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.955-03:00In the Palace of Lady Eden<span style="background-color: white;">As the strange purple darkness</span><br />
claimed its aftersun light,<br />
and the dense woods changed its mood<br />
from the green friendly to the mischievous dark,<br />
I soon found myself wandering<br />
in a desperate search for a place<br />
where to finally lay my arms.<br />
<br />
Yet the forest seemed to have no mercy,<br />
not for drifters nor misdirected foes,<br />
and before I could realize<br />
I had surrendered far into the dusk<br />
of my own weakness,<br />
my own brutal and lethal wounds.<br />
<br />
And in my dreams I saw casted<br />
a beautiful woman of infinite might,<br />
who in her walk, appeared to bend the trees back<br />
blinded by her light, her brilliance,<br />
so particularly expected from the midday sun.<br />
<br />
And thus, amid this blazing light,<br />
a group of dwarves and elves and men,<br />
carried me up and healed my marks,<br />
taking my cries to the now destroyed dark.<br />
<br />
In the most beautiful palace I woke,<br />
Lady Eden now sat beside me<br />
and she spoke and filled my mind.<br />
<br />
‘It is your duty now to be my man,<br />
and from now this shall be your house’.<br />
<br />
‘And you shall dwell with me. Forever.’<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>(Happy 22nd Birthday to me!)</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b><u>New on Blackprint Poetry: Blog Recommendations</u></b></i><br />
<i><b><u><br /></u></b></i><br />
Today's recommendation goes to my favourite poetry blogger on the web: <b>Splmartin </b>and his beyond-incredible blog <b>Read between the Minds. </b>Make sure to check his incredible work at:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://slpmartin.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">http://slpmartin.wordpress.com/</a>
<br />
<br />
See you soon!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-87846337891677803592012-07-02T03:53:00.000-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.977-03:00EndlessWhat's the time again?<br />
The tender light through my shades<br />
defines the hour, timeless.<br />
Once again, I'm caged in infinity.<br />
<br />
And the sacred silence<br />
doesn't help. Where are<br />
the children, why have they ceased<br />
their playing in the streets?<br />
<br />
Where are the murdered<br />
and the sick and the deceased?<br />
Where are the fumes and the deadly <span style="background-color: white;">sirens </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">of grief and endless fatigue?</span><br />
<br />
I need a sign, a whisper in my ear,<br />
a gentle touch of defined light<br />
to cast an hour on my clock<br />
and turn oblivion into night.<br />
<br />
<br />
-Thanks to <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/shadiatique">ShadiatiQue</a> for the beautiful picture. Make<span style="background-color: white;"> sure to check out her <a href="http://shadiatique.blogspot.com.ar/">blog.</a></span><br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-58389402681703110812012-06-27T20:29:00.000-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.961-03:00After the war<div>
By the ruins of the church</div>
<div>
the soldier looks up to the sky</div>
<div>
waiting for the time in which</div>
<div>
his brother might stand by his side.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Across wasteland and bodies</div>
<div>
fifteen holes dug up by the men</div>
<div>
entrenched down into the earth</div>
<div>
cover the shame brought upon them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Never again will he stand,</div>
<div>
or gaze into his child’s eyes of life</div>
<div>
and he crawls into the trenches</div>
<div>
hoping to be buried when he dies.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-91553752372832667882012-06-20T12:00:00.000-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.981-03:00FearAgain these endless nights:<br />
who knows what awaits<br />
in the smoke-infested corridors<br />
that lurk behind<br />
my old clay doors.<br />
<br />
The fear returns<br />
(to what? - I doubt)<br />
and is my only friend.<br />
Lazy steps, and racing cars,<br />
in my brain, (by my side?)<br />
Who hides in that empty space<br />
between darkness and my flesh?<br />
<br />
Shadows breeds tiny monsters,<br />
a shaman said. But wait!<br />
I cast no light:<br />
Maybe I'll find<br />
that I am the grander menace<br />
that devours their heads.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-65495633570884317252012-06-15T12:00:00.000-03:002013-05-02T00:59:52.459-03:00A Fellow of Infinite Jest<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's on again:
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
flashes ups</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
and down</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
your mind,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
mixed,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
crazy,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
on fire.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
It began</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
again</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
with the lights</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
that numb</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
the rest</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
of your heart,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
your mind,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
yourself.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's on again,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
and will return</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
again,</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
every time</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
your hand</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
presses "on"</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
and you let</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
your mind soar</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
away.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-50819265152126088592012-06-10T01:53:00.000-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.960-03:00FarewellThese words aren't that hard<br />
like sacred closet sounds:<br />
merely unrelentless.<br />
<br />
I am done with the<br />
whispered dreams that aren't true.<br />
The silver turn in view<br />
pursues endless time.<br />
<br />
We saw the colors<br />
where love happened<br />
Our minds reducted,<br />
and soared together.<br />
<br />
But we no longer<br />
speak the language<br />
of the beautiful people:<br />
<br />
All the things you meant from me<br />
the person we waited for<br />
stuck together on the lock<br />
of my heart and the faith<br />
that dwelt inside of you.<br />
<br />
Even when there was nothing<br />
as full as yourself<br />
you fought against my heart<br />
taking cover, running away<br />
taking one more fight<br />
one more crazy dream<br />
and left my naked body<br />
drenched in your blood.<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-48213320278133743022012-04-13T02:21:00.001-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.956-03:00The roadAn infinity of plains, barely stained by a lonesome lagoon over there and a group of trees on the other side… and slashed through by an endless snake of grey tar, that twists and coils over its everwet tail. It’s been imprisoned by the wires that somebody settled to its sides, and will never be able to escape.<br />
<br />
The road, no one’s land, always waits to be traveled, always waits for somebody to stroke its back and rescue her from her solitude. But the scorching sun of the midday makes it an inhospitable place, only to become sorrowful during the afternoon, and dreary at nights. Nobody stops to ponder on the colours of its dusk, or the thousands of stars that light up when the sun decides to hide out.<br />
<br />
We approach the city lights. Behind unfolds the road, with its beauties and its tedium, waiting for someone who finally uncovers the thousands of secrets it still has to offer.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-27405635399885271892011-07-26T02:01:00.000-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.938-03:00Burning plains<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The dry feet stumble<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">across the scorched earth<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and with every step dust rises<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">turning harder every breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Offerings to the clouds and sky<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">circle the mud huts of the town;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">in vain, for the gods refuse to cry<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and allow their tears to come down.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And the heat gets stronger<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">with no relief to be found<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">not in the shade nor in the dark<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and on the old Death is soon bound.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The eldest man finally collapses<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and enters fiery Hell on Charon’s boat,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">but soon the weather discomforts him<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and heads upwards to get his coat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(A small tribute to Juan Rulfo)<o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-74577387839941193492011-07-09T18:38:00.003-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.970-03:00The Girl in the Linen DressThe golden light of dusk,<br />
fed her eyes, her face and hair,<br />
and turned on fire<br />
the most beautiful linen dress.<br />
<br />
Not the sand under her feet,<br />
nor the sea to which she gave warmth,<br />
could keep me from gazing,<br />
at such a wonderful sight.<br />
<br />
And she turned on her dance,<br />
the welcomed marine breeze,<br />
to which her sacred white dress kept beat,<br />
channeling my every sense into the deepest bliss.<br />
<br />
Yet, my every intent to approach her,<br />
were desperately vain, as she followed<br />
to turn and turn, fading out, growing pale,<br />
turning my sweet princess, into a forgone tale.<br />
<br />
(Happy 21st Birthday to me!)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-43801874453511549592011-06-17T17:25:00.004-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.953-03:00Faces in the Sand<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>I.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Whether it had been<br />
the shining round Moon,<br />
the eye of light in the starless night<br />
or rather the freezing touch<br />
of the golden gentle sand,<br />
I could not realize<br />
which had found me<br />
softly dragging my feet<br />
in that majestically desert beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Desert! Oh Lord, how I wish<br />
the place had truly been so.<br />
For anywhere I looked<br />
there was no one to be seen<br />
neither gently lit by the cold white light<br />
nor casted from the shadows of the darkened sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>II.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yet, my mind, my soul and ears<br />
crumbled into agony upon the sound<br />
of voices of despair, crime and lust,<br />
as whips punished with threshing hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cries, oh terrible cries!<br />
but still no dying one – not around.<br />
No one but me and my soul which,<br />
stabbed, bled for these terrible howls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And the misery finally won,<br />
and I crumbled: my knees,<br />
on fire, yet numb, I couldn’t hold straight<br />
and I collapsed, never finding defeat so bright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Relief cooled my body with an intense wave,<br />
as ice – which never lacks its thaw.</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For I saw, but couldn’t describe</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">what laid before my unbelieving eyes.</span> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>III.</b></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From what I before thought was<br />
a gentle coat of beautiful sand,<br />
an endless army of cursed faces emerged<br />
devouring my every step into the Palace of Death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These figures rhythmically danced, changed<br />
and in their stillness, shared their place,<br />
generously trading an eyeball, a mouth<br />
and voice, in despair to form a face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Shrieks. Bellows. Laughter caused by sorrow.<br />
Screams and sighs of agony. Misery.<br />
A whole world of torments had found its owners,<br />
which, crumbled, desperately clanged to the sand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And with every step,<br />
a new mercy cry seemed to take shape<br />
trading its rueful sound of pain<br />
for a voice claiming its wishes in vain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Heard I did, as one cursed soul,<br />
merely the remnant of a lover’s memory<br />
swore and spat its foul damnations and hopes<br />
proving his life had truly been low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>IV. (A lover’s tale)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Loved I did, and love was all I knew,<br />
for years and years, my mind drifted aloof<br />
as moon after moon, night after night,<br />
only her voice could bring me back to the light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, she truly was mine, merely for a kiss,<br />
and instantaneous eternity of heavenly bliss,<br />
in which our lips met, and darkness came<br />
for the light we caused, dimmed Heaven’s flame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yet, Darkness forgot that single day,<br />
to blind Tragedy’s vengeful eyes,<br />
claimed my love’s shining future<br />
and pushed my heart into everlasting torture”.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4a4a49; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-37908083001188088552011-06-01T19:53:00.003-03:002012-10-20T21:40:09.348-03:00The FallThe shadows crept upon my sheets<br />
and forbade the sweet sleep to close my eyes,<br />
to release my gentle soul from the gloom<br />
and the dark melancholy of those fearful nights.<br />
<br />
For eight days I had dwelt<br />
in the majestic manor of my sick friend<br />
settling his angst, his fear of death<br />
and burying his undead sister into a maze.<br />
<br />
But that night the whirlwind unset me<br />
and my host's mind broke apart,<br />
as he whispered in silence the secret:<br />
Madalaine's was still a beating heart.<br />
<br />
And aghast I fled from the rotten mansion<br />
and saw through the moon and the thunder<br />
how the winds broke through the growing crack<br />
and caused the fall of the House of Usher.<br />
<br />
(A small tribute to Edgar Allan Poe)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-14507526107631546622011-04-29T12:56:00.003-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.935-03:00LeavingIn a crystal palace<br />
or through the cutting wind<br />
that bleeds my lips<br />
I drop a tear.<br />
Everywhere<br />
I’m lonely,<br />
for you are far,<br />
so very cold,<br />
and in the dark.<br />
<br />
<br />
I miss you,<br />
your warm hands,<br />
and sweet smile,<br />
the silly games<br />
just running around.<br />
Why did you leave?<br />
I see now,<br />
you are underground<br />
but I’m in the dark.<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-50448687030091638692011-04-24T23:12:00.007-03:002012-10-20T21:46:47.579-03:00RelentlessAcross dark alleys I soar,<br />
through the sharp chill that cracks my wings<br />
and witness always the same:<br />
the lust and crime, the excesses of men<br />
and the cruel, relentless pain.<br />
<br />
When the greedy, the criminals<br />
and the corrupt take their last breath<br />
and the city wipes itself of the soot<br />
that stuck to the sweat of its walls,<br />
a new age shall dawn for Men.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-65607343316363686142011-04-16T22:28:00.001-03:002013-05-02T01:12:50.298-03:00Liebster Blog Award<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img height="80" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7jHx_3M1e9e-5-z2QX54J8dhIuA4Swl6fX9US171QgINnullyTPyq1x4ajCj4CCSvtkAz0mA7pd5MZ6-QZku3M9sUdz7EvZEsMzUKVEe1U-PPXmqREujNU6ShfTkwgmA11BeTNDnWQ8/s200/Liebster-award.jpg" width="200" /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm honored to announce that Blackprint Poetry has recieved the Liebster Blog Award, which is passed on by fellow bloggers to recognize the recipient's contribution to blogging.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thanks to Nomar Knight (and his beyond excellent blog <a href="http://bit.ly/fSvtsU">Knight Chills</a>) for the award! The prize should be passed forward to at least three blogs with less than 300 followers, so here it goes:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"I write what I feel, I never worry what others think."</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Definetly my first choice, I just love the irrevent (but optimistic) poetical style and themes. Always looking forward to more poetry from his author, </span>Ackeem Russell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Check him out at: <a href="http://a-poetsjustice.blogspot.com/">http://a-poetsjustice.blogspot.com/</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2 - Read between the minds</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A beautiful poetry blog, complete with cool pictures that match the topic of the post. Slpmartin's deep poetry surprises me with fast-paced rythm and witty <span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: nowrap;">denunciations of political wrongdoings of our time.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; white-space: nowrap;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: nowrap;">Check it out: </span><a href="http://slpmartin.wordpress.com/">http://slpmartin.wordpress.com/</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3- The Guerilla Poetess</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Skylar Smythe offers us some of the greatest erotic and romantic poetry to be found on the net. She is currently on the process of writing 30 poems in 30 days for National Poetry Month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Be sure to follow her at: <a href="http://guerillapoetess.blogspot.com/">http://guerillapoetess.blogspot.com/</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thanks to all, and hope to hear from you soon!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-28092454720562074402011-04-12T23:03:00.005-03:002012-10-20T21:49:17.744-03:00Remember to liveRemember to live<br />
and grasp every second of life<br />
Climb the colossal heights of night<br />
and never forget to paint the colours of dawn.<br />
And like a pioneer never cease<br />
to make your way through forests<br />
and walls of rock and fear.<br />
Do not tremble at the callings of life<br />
for they shall take you far beyond you’ll ever thought<br />
and they will find your own true self,<br />
down inside the carcass of your mortal skin.<br />
And as the sun rises and falls,<br />
your path shall meander so,<br />
in glorious days and wicked times<br />
life will not seldom find you<br />
but the overwhelming grace of a fulfilled soul<br />
shall cover the pain for the luxuries lost.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-40494321367226602392011-04-05T00:22:00.005-03:002013-05-02T01:09:25.317-03:00The Ordeal of LoveWhy should I even try,<br />
If it merely consumes my me,<br />
Crashes my heart on lonely pressing nights,<br />
When you seem far, very distant apart?<br />
<br />
I know how this should work,<br />
You in my mind and nothing else…<br />
But how’d you expect my jealous heart,<br />
To see my love near some reembracing arms?<br />
<br />
And my tastes are far from my control…<br />
So I came late, what else should I do?<br />
I can’t turn the hearts of my near around,<br />
Change their lives, when I am so far from that.<br />
<br />
So I will turn to bed tonight,<br />
Maybe furious, confused and tossing throughout,<br />
Things will stay the way they are,<br />
And I will think around and smell beside,<br />
<br />
And remember once again,<br />
That I love you.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-79363374272584880932011-03-23T20:50:00.004-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.972-03:00On Dreamland<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This place is mysteriously bizarre,<br />
like in a midnight rush hour<br />
thousands pass and come by,<br />
uncontrolled laughter, and<br />
bellows of excitement (or pity?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yet everybody is doing something,<br />
things I can’t really figure out<br />
hazy blurs of running men,<br />
skirmishes and dancing tribes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But none of this unfocuses me.<br />
As I glide towards my orange sign<br />
and I stand beside her<br />
and she takes me away.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4a4a49; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970359442859466607.post-19931054579216934992011-03-14T22:24:00.004-03:002012-07-19T00:59:14.937-03:00The Game of Fire and Feathers<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Amid the blaze of fire,<br />
she dances alive,<br />
bowed down upon the presence<br />
of fiery creatures,<br />
which, casted, burn and smoke<br />
and cry their spirits out<br />
majestically following the music’s flow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.4pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 14.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A feathered mask hides her face,<br />
and conceals more than a girl’s game,<br />
for, yes! she dances alive,<br />
but in her steps she carries<br />
the whole weight of the World<br />
finely woven in the colours<br />
of feathers of dead ancient birds. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02223320225574574971noreply@blogger.com8