Damn those eyes

Pretty face, demanding loving eyes.
Soft voice making me feel weak and captured.
Soft touch of hands making me fall into deep embrace.
Those eyes make me swim in the dangerous river of hope.
Damn those eyes.
Those eyes make me want to know wanderlust and forget where I was going
Fall into your embrace and become drunk with you in a wild love and untamed love. You and I.

Write on me

Milky white Winter skin showing and your robust body moving slowly to the song.
You dance near the candles and the candle lights are weaving. Leonard is singing “The Stranger song” and I watch you dance for me. You fall to my feet and you whispered. “You are my poetry, you are my love, you are my curse and I need you to make me pay for loving you. Write on me. Write deeply upon my wanting skin. Epic words to make the Gods jealous and I need you to make me feel wanted and needed. Make me scream, make me yearn and make me love.” The poet smiled and he tasted the sweet kiss of his loving woman and he whispered. I love your face, I love your voice and I love when you whispered to me to me my kind muse, my lover and my darling. You are my everything and I will write a 100,000 words of love for you.

John Castellenas/Coyote

Via johncoyote.wordpress.com and carvalheirav3.wordpress.com (Pingbacks)


“the night of candlelight and wine” a collaboration from Gabriela M, and Francisco Bravo Cabrera #poem #poetry

A rose with thorns you wrap around my wrist

I tie your eyes with scents of mandarins

your heartbeats spiral red Cabo de Palos winds

your touches gallop on my wildest dreams

Valencia, garden where the lovers meet

where statues chant the prayers of the hours

and where some other winds,

perhaps the winds of Lent, not ours

will lift Mediterranean sands so we can’t see,

sighs of the future that the two of us could be …

Their hands clap bulerías por soleá

you and I, the same passion, we move to the same rhythm

your eyes undress a Carthaginian fountain

my hands undress a shadow, is that you?

we die in love as we had died before

in photographs that are not ours

in the port of Cartagena where we’ve never met

blindfolded looking for each other

like hedonistic lovers in the nights of carnival

we speak in languages known only by the flesh

this is the night of candlelight and wine

the night of gaps between the piccolos and tubas

you touch me with a branch of olives

I mark your skin with coloured glass

until the morning rises from the sea

and thus…

Valencia, look what’s happening to people like us.

Via short-prose-fiction and eretxa.wordpress.com

image: Eki, by Francisco Bravo Cabrera, oil on canvas, 40x50cm

Beautiful work you two. 👍 Such talented people, I’m a bit envious, I must admit. 😜

Life is what it Seems — Omnia Caelum… Poetry, Art, Music

The air is full of thoughts today,

and the sunlight fights its way to get to me,

but when I feel its warmth,

I turn and seek the rain.

Forever is an empty kitchen in a speeding train,

and everywhere I look, life is still the same.

It’s still a shame

to think of life as shadows on the street,

because the hard concrete is not a place for flowers,

nor is the asphalt black upon where buses run,

passing by, rushing lifetimes into hours.

And we silently stand patiently and wait,

for buses running late.

Some of us are prone to strolling

through forests to reach hopes and dreams,

leaving thoughts in the air we breathe,

and without noticing,

I do believe,

life and all is nothing more than what it seems.

C. 2020, Francisco Bravo Cabrera,

Via […]

Life is what it Seems — Omnia Caelum… Poetry, Art, Music