Entries by Mora

Poetry of the Deprived

In unpleasant dreams, I’ve heard you weep beneath the Umbrous willow trees the creek does mourn your shade forlorn you’ve laid your tired bones within the flow. The sun has dreamt it’s final bow, among the sullen stage so dreary now, midnight remains resolute upon your brow, the crepuscular vestige is your crown. From the […]

Episode 3: Poetry Reading Sweet Magdaline

  At night, when the fleeting dreams haunt my flesh and tear at my walls, And the waking voices hold vigil on my fantasy, it is then, cloaked in the shroud of gloom that I see where you have gone. Without regards to the fevered twilight, who bids no clemency to the maddening vision, into […]

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.

Why is Art – A philosophical standpoint on the allure of art

Essentially, art is and will always be subjective. It is the uniqueness within the mysteries of our very own judgments and thought processes that allow differing interpretations of what exactly is a spectacular beauty, a true ‘piece of art’, and what we may dismiss as a failed attempt. The philosophical question remains, perhaps eternally unanswerable; […]

Loving Mother

In time through the whispered years no love greater has there been the caress that wipes the tears words softly soothe the sleeved heart pinned upon the arm once so young now wiser, warmer it has become and though no longer I slumber upon your chest its still as though I grasp onto every breath

The Night We Met

When the evening would speak, in its tones so silent, into my listening heart the melody was so bitter, it made me close my eyes, such a sweet caress that lifted my head onto the altar where you’d wait so sullen, with those tears on your prayers, that pain on your bones the moon would […]

The Feeding

This wretched skin, shedding among the dimly lit stars, the sonata that harkens the storm, deluge of beastly origins, akin to the gloom hours that prey on fear, and among the ravenous maw, distasteful rhetoric, cursed whispers that fall on dilapidated husks, the hunger, the sinful hunger… the intent is of abysmal inspiration, hades bears […]

Throes of Passion

Your eyes have spoken such disdain amidst the berth that we have lain the silken flesh porcelain scented petals from within. The poesy without word from lips claret unfurled such passion in the midst of throe and breathless strewn among the woe. Lay we now dipped in the ink of our eyes into the pools […]

The Unwilling King

I sat one eve, on a throne of flesh and bone that with every breath from lung, agony it sung I placed my ear upon the flesh, so moving was the intonation, the cadenza of damnation I spoke into the black abyss, quandaries so noetic, in tongue so forked, duplicitous heretic And from the throne […]