Those were his chains… Like fake flowers in the wind… Those were his chains… Like fake flowers in the wind… Of Truth…Lost and found… Of Life’s colours hanging from a rail… Searching for meaning… In a cycle of life… Of flying, turned fallen leaves… Like fake flowers in the wind… Those were his chains… Of…
Beneath his autumn travelling thoughts… Endless lives casually pass by… Some come… Some go… Some die… Some are being born… From the air… Small sparkles of light adorn the sweet sound of a floating lullaby… While on the ground… A delicate night’s breeze rocks the silent swings, their childhood dreams… Until they slowly… Fall…
Wishing… Wondering… Whispering… Deconstructing concrete paths… Into a timeless existence… of repressed faithful ways… Step by step… He fails to comprehend… why nostalgic bohemian verses… feed his wandering diverging steps? Why old dreams, disguised as search, that have not yet come an end… Seek freedom from his uneasiness of mind… From his insecurities of doubt……
Solitary travels… Of reflections and shadows… Of ownerless ripples in time drifters within a peaceful autumn breeze… Of forsaken colours and light… Of abandoned yearnings in life fluttering within nature’s inevitable fate… Solitary travels… Embrace the dancing leaves in the wind… Before you take to the road your dreams and desires… Your fears and…
Below a grey somnolent day under the early autumn summer rain… Their coalescing silhouettes fade into a withering mist… Of tobacco smoke and vape… Flying notes of a guitar break the silent space of a birds summer requiem… in a melancholic hearts embrace… Young hopes disguised travel through the window pane… invade a lone sunlight…
She was like a poem few could understand, an ocean hidden in a drawer with a white winter freeze, a blue summer breeze… A yellow autumn leaf… And a white withering rose… From a late green spring… He was a travelling pawn… Confused within a wild roundabout… Like frenzied carmine searching for her rainbow lips……
Where are you heading crystal ant, free cry, summer song, sweet serenade at dawn? where are you heading sweet moment, nostalgia of lonely heart? Perhaps, Perhaps one day you’ll understand… Said the moon to the reflection of the fallen rain on the ground… That your light it’s not yours… Nor mine… that we are mirrors…
Xoetry, 2017 marks a new chapter in the evolution of my Xoetry project…One that begun many years ago… Today, with great satisfaction I would like to present Xoetry’s collection of poems in paperback and ebook form… Now both available at Amazon https://www.amazon.co.uk/Xoetry-2017-Xoanxo-Cespon/dp/1520566638/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1487465085&sr=8-2&keywords=xoetry If you follow this blog and visit the book page at Amazon, your reviews will…
Brick by brick A canvas for an artist’s mind… white paper for a poet’s eye… Today… A winter day outside… velvet speckles of dust from an angel’s wing… gently play with a child… tenderly caress her cheeks… kiss her smile, gracefully lay at her feet… Tomorrow the sun will rise… Outside… It may be…
I was twelve When I first heard of Father Kolbe… When I first learned Of how he offered his life, his love To take a father, A husband’s place, In the face of death… A memory I had kept, Like a movie in black and white… of heroes and villains… in a distant time, from…
They wrote, They spoke, They sang, They marched in black and white… Across villages, cities and towns, Peacefully fought for their rights… Against the narrowness of minds… The accepted order of their times… For some, patrons of light… Heroes of our past… For others, trouble makers… Angels of unrest… Unruly, disobedient women and men… Today…I…
Somehow… In these times of trouble for many… of confusion, war, pain, death, loss… My mind, as if running away.. Insists I must return… to happier days… of childhood dreams… carefree plays… But how would my nostalgic verses serve a world in sorrow? I ask myself… Should I not write words of hope, Talk of…
