Blessing in brisk November

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

Split Into ThreeMy 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

Apathy

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

Fingers that trace the morning mists

Fingers that trace the morning mists and in their wake imprint sonnets and words that sweeten the gardens nectar, are nails across my heart —Ernesto Mora @ThePOEMHOME.

Fingers that trace the morning mists
and in their wake imprint sonnets
and words that sweeten the gardens nectar,
are nails across my heart
—Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

Pablo Neruda – Quotes

“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”

― Pablo Neruda, Love: Ten Poems

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.

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 paint its carcass across the dismal black,
pulling at the strings on our backs,
what a beautiful eulogy will be written into the stars, and how
the sky will mourn, to catch those tears I’d pass upon the
thorny tapestry, and bleed into that evening again

Your fingers forever engraved so enrapturing, onto my flawed
skin your farewell, those moments onto which my days are
enthralled, those lips on my flesh, they flayed my innocence
now woe has besieged our obstreperous night, where amid the
tempest we dance

awaiting the dying morning that we know won’t come, await
those breaths that we will not take
speak to me though my stars have fallen silent, my last vision
should be of you, and never more beauty into my eyes should
fall, the windows shattered against the raging conscience

So long has it been, lost among the gray, the midnight draped
on my veil
drifting amid the blackened sun, pitiful silhouette in the night
Long ago, your smile was with me, and the evening would
speak to me
So long has it been silent, your voice has faded from memory

***

The music that inspired this piece

So Fallen

So fallen unto the embracing kiss
of those lips that speak in silent love
with the dialect of reciprocity,
the idiom of amorous culture
so entrenched within the fleeting moments the evanescent evening that as a shawl upon
your silken skin.

Adorns your breasts with the stars aligned, a glittering gift from the divine. So enthralled to your scent, the very colors on the plumage so vivid.

The delight at first light, dulcet brown sugar, coffee black eyes. On the very sun we dance, and on the moon we love.

Within the eiderdown we dream, silent moments in between
So fallen are we.

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

Good And Evil

The golden hue kiss on the horizon on the wings dulcet intonation below the dark hungered maw.

..

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

“Untitled” a poem by Ernesto Mora⠀

In the somber, dying dusk, just beyond the pale, I saw you. In the atramentous midnight hour, I felt you. In the morning, by the dewy knoll, I kissed the stone of your sepulcher.

 

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.