Vivaldi’s wrathful violins

Be the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.  ~Lord Byron

* * * * *
It’s that time again,
just before the streets and
the souls of walking people adopt
the crepuscular cover of the night
and the mass of watery atoms in the air,
engaged in a savage samba
with the ray- less sky
applauds the winds that
grow adventurous, almost chivalrous.
Leaves are spent under rain drops
and anxious whispers, and hope somehow
rises weary and little by little leaves.
I am left with bloodthirsty icons
of the four season
and in each of them, the sun bows
to Vivaldi’s wrathful violins.
© 2013  Broken Sparkles

If you really miss me …


If you really miss me …

Are you really here or this is only
the leftovers of someone’s loneliness,
dazzles between a heart’s fire and a logic’s ice?
If I miss you, can I draw the shape of your face,
can I turn the despair into scented lights?

Did I hear you whisper or this is just
the sounds of darkness scraping the dust,
the shadows on my curtainless windows?
If I want you, can I taste your lips or
should I ignore the essence of lust?

And if you miss me, if you really miss me,
will you stare at the sky and its shooting stars,
will you search for passion in this stormy weather
and hope that our last kiss is the one to bring
the wind and the rain in your dreams?


Inspired by “If you want me” – Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova

To my silent muse …

“And soon, too soon, we part with pain, To sail o’er silent seas again.”
Thomas Moore

“Rain of feelings” by Homy on DeviantArt


© 2011  Broken Sparkles




I wanted a storm tonight, a wild one,
with thunders and lightnings,
with heavy rain and brutal wind.

I needed the sound of the hurricane
to blunt the sound of my running heart
when I heard you knocking on my door,
when the bell woke up my abandoned confidence.

I needed the electric sparks lighting the sky,
to hide the glow of triumph in my eyes,
when I saw you coming to me with hope,
with million questions about tomorrow.

I wanted the noise of the raindrops to mix with
the noise of my melting, fragile self-defense,
when the perfection of your face met the look of my eyes.

And the shiver down my spine, the tremble through my skin,
I needed you to think it’s because of the cold  air,
not because of your lips touching my lips with finest kiss.

I wanted to hide my weakness about you for a while,
to stand independent and confident for another moment,
before your charm conquered me, before your hands took my hands
and your voice asked me to follow you in the maze of love.


"Mallabula Storm" by Robert Vine


© 2011  Broken Sparkles