Category Archives: Poetry – Poems

Derek Walcott: Love After Love – El amor después del amor

 

Elizabeth Cárdenas - Writer/Escritora

Happy Sunday everyone.

For the past few days, I’d been thinking quite a bit about poetry, and I wasn’t sure why.  Then, while watching my favorite show, Super Soul Sunday, Oprah quoted a few lines from the poem Love After Love by Derek Walcott. My curiosity led me to google it, of course. By the time I finished reading, my eyes were filled with tears. 

Over the past 11 years, I have been going through a spiritual awakening. This poem summed up beautifully what I have not been able to express. I hope you enjoy it.

Love After Love

The time will come 
when, with elation 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door, in your own mirror 
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, 
and say, sit here. Eat. 
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your…

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Sand in my Hand

 

70x7perspective

There’s something about grabbing a handful of sand and observing the combination of patterns and colors on the tiny rocks and seashells.

“Hey! Look at these colors. Aren’t they mesmerizing?”

Just to think that there is a wider color spectrum that the natural eyes cannot see.

There’s more? More colors you say?

I can’t think of a color that doesn’t exist. Why won’t you give it a try?

None. Right?

It’s said that the skies declare the work of God’s hand.

God knew our faithlessness. He uses the sky as an example because it is untouchable and full of mystery. Our minds don’t need to work hard to wonder.

But it was the sand in my hand that inflated my faith and stirred up this reserved excitement in me.

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Powerful Prisoner

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Related (by the same author)

70x7perspective

Don’t try to be like me.
Instead, use my mistakes.
I cant show you my defeat.
My pedestal might break.

It might seem like I won this battle.
The one that gives status and might.
I’m just a prisoner of war.
Their hands holding a knife.

If I try to bend,
Their hands grip tighter
If I try to break
They’ll swing the knife higher.

Don’t try to be like me.
Instead, use my mistakes.
I’m not allowed to fold.
I’m not allowed to flake.

What is my mistake you ask?
The one mistake I was allowed to have?
It was to climb a ladder called status.
I pushed to climb it the fastest.

It was the right thing to do, right?
To become someone with power and flight.
Now the people below hold me captive.
This shouldn’t even happen.

Don’t try to be like me.
Just use my so-called…

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Reinvented

 

House of Heart

The trees are filled with blossoms
they wave beneath the pale sky
like pink hands of impish children.
Meet me in the orchard
before summer slips away,
I want to dip my hand in
the cold brook just to feel
the ache.
Naked among bird of paradise
sun-drenched thighs wet with dew
feed me sweet red apples
while they are nothing more
than fruit. 

Why Was There Forbidden Fruit in the Garden of Eden in the First Place?

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More morning poetry

 

Writer's Block

As I have mentioned previously on this blog, some mornings I leave ridiculously early to go work on the train, and for some reason this seems to result in little haikus popping into my head. Maybe it’s having an empty stomach, or just seeing the sun come up over the city, but I think I’m coming to quite enjoy these relatively quiet moments in a busy day.

Here’s a few more for you to take or leave as you will.

Faces downturned

A seething speeding capsule

Passions on their laps

Balloons in the dawn

Pinned improbably still

Hanging like dark stars

Cold sky fire

Charcoals graceful branches

Before speeding train

Possum on the wire

Racing electricity

Towards morning star

Blur of morning fog

Jealously hoards the light

A soft eraser

New colour and form

Scribbles bloom on railway walls

Illegible fame

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Early morning haiku

 

Writer's Block

I’ve been getting up ridiculously early to get to work lately. Here are some of the words which have spilled out of my addled brain in those dark hours.

Black dawn silhouettes

The hoot of a waiting train

Square of lilac sky

.

Glimpsed from a rocking train

Balloons hang improbably

Fire shines within

.

Indigo morning

Cold light pools at the station

Runner shuffles past

.

Hard white stars greet me

the air cools my sandalled feet

Hurrying to work

.

Musselshell sky

Fleeting shadow puppets

Birds in bare branches

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Umbrella heavens

 

Whimsygizmo's Blog

the year has taken
much, and left
us hollow.

we count sorrows
on both hands and watch
the cold doors close. i suppose

of all these wayward things, 
i miss my 
-self the most. 

i search the sky for rain 
and other groovy ghosts.

It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse and I’m hosting. Come play!

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We Danced Once

 

Jewish Young Professional

Other clubbers simply shuffle.

We swing; obviously the cutest couple.

Thought we’d found our groove,

but guilty of repetitive moves

that didn’t take us far

enough – life had raised the bar.

For vintage turns to useless junk

One day, our groove became a funk.

Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev from Pexels

***

Written for dVerse and FOWC.

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One day🙏

 

Try to get it!

In sha Allah

One day I will have a new start
One day all my sadness will depart
One day I will have a partener who is So smart
All my worries and interests he will adopt
One day I will achieve all my dreams
And I will have brand new routines
One day I will fly far far away
Until I reach my ultimate peaceful stay
One day I will restore myself

Sohair

🙏

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Days Are Not So Dreary Now

 

BowmanAuthor and Writer/Editor

Days are not so dreary now.

Dare we hope for a new tomorrow?

Another day that teaches us how

To live, love, express our sorrow

For what we have all been through.

How has the Pandemic affected you?

No one was left unscathed.

We all knew hardship and pain.

Our lives were interrupted with waves

Of loss, confusion, fear, blame

When there was no enemy to stand up to.

How can we ever know who?

So, we must be strong.

We must never look back.

Somehow, we’ll get past the wrongs

And find the courage we lack.

The virus still thrives.

How do we go on with our lives?

We move forward as we have always done.

We pray to our Deity as in the past when we have won!

–Deborah A. Bowman

A New Dawn is Coming

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