Dust of broken sparkles

“I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest.

I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.”Pablo Neruda

* * * * *

Dust of broken sparkles

Strange silence drips over the fields with love
and as soon as I see how time curls
around scented flesh and sweaty curves,
bruised lips and skin let out fires
over ice cubs and jasmine oiled hands.
As soon as I become one with the whiteness
of the walls turning crimson, satin and mirrors speak
the language of silver fleur de-lys and ripe grapes.
You, the wind that makes the sunset glow,
and I, the first flower of the sunrise,
how can I keep you, how can you own me?
While we move under the music of illusions
and swear in the life of leftover senses,
the dust of broken sparkles sweeps the night.

`

“Bodies and dust” by Anton Surkov

`

© 2012  Broken Sparkles

`

10 Responses to “Dust of broken sparkles”

  1. Bluejellybeans Says:

    Very beautiful poem, Blaga :) Have a nice weekend!

  2. Romantic Dominant Says:

    Excellent quote, lovely poem, gorgeous photo, beautiful blog

  3. Philippa Drake Says:

    An absolutely stunning poem with crackling imagery.

  4. David Eric Cummins Says:

    That is so beautiful, Blaga! :)

  5. Eclipse Says:

    “You, the wind that makes the sunset glow,
    and I, the first flower of the sunrise,
    how can I keep you, how can you own me?…”
    …so beautifully put Blaga! ….and at the same time – some questions with not a really pleasent answer…

  6. Victoria C. Slotto Says:

    Wow, Blaga–this is such beautiful sensuality. One thing that struck me was your choice of active verbs–these made it so powerful.

  7. Jamie Dedes Says:

    A beautiful flaming sensuality here. The photo is quite wonderful too.

    It’s it interest how Neruda feeds our poetry. I think we could have several lifetimes as poets before we would fully absorb and use his work.

    Many blessings to you, Blaga. Thanks for another lovely. ;-)

  8. dragonkatet Says:

    I really enjoyed your poem, with its bittersweet edge and such perceptive imagery. The photo is another story. I really wanted to like it, because it is quite dynamic. But I ‘saw’ a skull in the dust cloud (almost right above her knee) and that completely changed the feel of it for me. I went back and re-read the poem again with that new image in mind and it had a very different meaning. I love how pictures can enhance and even change how a person reads a poem. :)


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