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…
Summer afternoon by the shore… We watched the tide slowly rise… Wondering… How far would it come… Before the sun went down? Will the delicate waves Reach to tickle our toes? You asked… We sailed an abandoned fisherman’s boat On dry sand… Lying on our backs… Watching the summer clouds go by… Listening to the…
Yesterdays of today… Like a familiar song To a new beat As we come and go… What have we learnt from our pain? Vessels… As if aliens, Intricate expressions.. Of this universal life… Collective dance, Seeking to negate An inevitable… Inescapable… Integral existence… In this flawed pursuit Of alienation… Separation… In this ever changing… Never…
On her knees… With a delicate dance of her hands… Mother Life’s fingers grazed the wet sand… Endless tears pouring out… What about me? She wrote… what about love? What about life? My son… You might build a wall… imprison your sick mind… runaway… hide… but for every brick of your wall… I shall give…
Winter had arrived after the rain… The sounds of their footsteps on the softened ground travelled gently… Beyond the window pane… In bed…Half sleep, with the fresh winter light warmly caressing his face… Softly kissing his lips… The artist wished for a dream…
One summer day… as the cold river water softly caressed her skin Maria’s passion for rain turned dream… And although I think Maria knew that in this universe not a single rain drop ever gets lost… She would build a rain station to capture all the rainfall of her love… Like passing ripples twisting tree…
(Get money and you can buy anything) Sat at the table tie around his neck vaper in hand… he looked at the clock… tick tock tick tock Time still for a quick thought… Must avoid rush hour on my way to work… He looked up and said to himself… Can you buy that sky? Can…
