Poets of the fall

Poets of the fall

Years from now,
the grief of the autumn leaves
will lead you to the crypt of
an origami, paper crane.
Under the obsolete dust,
where red plumeria once grew,
there will be a tale of ebony hearts.

Carved in the words of a script,
flashbacks on the edge of omission
will let you in on secrets
about crippled fantasies,
about a kiss and a gaze at the stars
that could turn the gray daylight
into an ivory moonlight.

The wind doesn’t need to know
how like lovers of the summer we held
the last drops of sultry bruises,
the rain doesn’t have to remember
how like poets of the fall we kept
the candle lights on our lips, because
destiny gave us the clarity of the dawn.

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"Crane" by Sonam Mandal

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© 2011  Broken Sparkles

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Storm

Storm

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

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In your arms

In your arms

Seeing woes and dismay,
the sky turned his look to the ground
and surly and gloomy, shouted
to the dancing clouds: ” Disappear! “

The air froze still and only couple of branches
shivered, expecting the cold to destroy them,
to overthrow them with dampness,
with stickiness and filth.

The light blue became unpleasant gray and
the stars scared, decided to escape.
The roar of thunder, the snap of light, the wet stain
after one drop of rain, you hear: ” Be afraid! “

But I’m not, not tonight. I feel how the wind blows,
right through stone walls. I see water pouring down,
I hear the ghastly noise bringing together earth and sky.
In your arms though, everything is faraway and I am safe …

Image by Blaga Todorova

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© 2010  Broken Sparkles