Entries by Mora

Blessing in brisk November

First star on the velvet canvass⠀ morning glory⠀ greet the brightest dawn⠀ the initial chapter, lovely story⠀ pale warmth ⠀ ebbs from the angels’ choir⠀ blessing in brisk November⠀ mandated from on higher…⠀ . . —Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.⠀⠀

Split Into Three

My heart has split upon the altar⠀ to no pain that took my breath away⠀ and the flow of time has spoken into my being⠀ words of silken water upon my crown⠀ split into three⠀ my light my joy and me…⠀ ⠀ —Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.⠀

Apathy

“Beneath your hooves, trampled roses cry the song of discontent and the fragile silk now bleeds onto your heartless cavort.” -E.Mora #Apathy

I Love you

I love you as the morning ⠀ warmth kisses my cold prayers, ⠀ love like the night that faded ⠀ has left the sky bare ⠀ from the dark corners of my dreams, ⠀ I wake and you’re there ⠀ into the fields of your kisses, ⠀ petals sweet-scented ⠀ into the forever of your […]

Last In Line Kindle Book

The emergency broadcast alarm sounds off. I am disturbed, out of my sleep. But what’s more disturbing is what I now see on the screen. Could this be real? Is this some sort of hoax? I don’t know, but there’s something to the tone of the man’s voice, that is leaving me unsettled. I think […]

Last in Line

  Summary The emergency broadcast alarm sounds off. I am disturbed, out of my sleep. But what’s more disturbing is what I now see on the screen. Could this be real? Is this some sort of hoax? I don’t know, but there’s something to the tone of the man’s voice, that is leaving me unsettled. […]

Episode 8: Poetry Reading – I Will Not Mourn You

In this episode, we listen to Ernesto Mora’s reading of “I Will not Mourn You” *** I will not cry for you at all, there is within me a resolve so cold and dressed in apathy, so uncaring with the meager, such a black and forlorn room that I dwell in from moment to moment. […]

Little hands

I hold onto your little hand and feel the stories untold a bond ancient and your eyes take hold be it into the night or into the vivid day I will always hold your little hand onto the blackest of frays. Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.