write me love letters

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Write me love letters

Don Quixote is still standing in Madrid

Fighting windmills perpetually caught

In his imagination’s grid.

 

Like Dante using iambic pentameters

Write me the pain ripping your heart

Write me an epic like Homer

Armor my soul with magic art.

 

And build for me a citadel of love

Its walls the crystal of my tears

Its altar’s candles luminating

The path for lovers of all years.

 

 

Trap me! – Published in Vita Brevis

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Please, trap me in the rhythms of the Flamenco

Whose sounds invade the nights of Southern Spain

To breathe the notes of the guitars which play,

And, fill the lustrous eyes with burning pain.

 

And trap me in the Florence of my dreams

To walk with Leonardo in its streets,

To verse in Greek, and cry with the Madonna

When the last word of Christ forever speaks.

 

Continue reading here

 

 

Into the winter of your soul

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No murmurs of the mandolins tonight

Sensual caresses caught in tears

Snow flowing under lonely sheets

Heavy steps of musketeers.

 

The age of fable is now past

Dice shivering in Eros’ palms

Into the winter of your soul

A double of Dumas is reading

From a lonely book of psalms.

 

for the daily prompt: age

* reference to Thomas Bulfinch’s work The Age of Fable

 

our love reflection in the glass

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Erotic butterflies

Punctuating your imagination

Half-moons deep hidden

In your metaphors

Roses dressed in carnal visions

Winter winds designing ores.

 

Amalgamations of semantics

Zephyr is blowing from the west

Cascades of pain are falling from the ceiling

White plants encroaching on my breasts

Love whispers on my lips are reeling.

 

Archaic veils are undulating

Within the sparkling times that passed

The hands of clocks are moving backwards

Remain

And let’s enthrall the mappemonde

With our love reflection in the glass.

 

daily prompt sparkle

 

Bedroom Tales – Published in Vita Brevis

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Come, red carnations stain the sheets
And candles flicker in the heavy silver
Red wine is breathing in the crystal glasses
Fine lace is flowing in the alcoves like a river.

Come, watch the shadows playing on the wall
When aromatic air is resting on the pillows
The Siamese is purring in her basket
And bowls are filled with reddish tamarillo.

Read the entire poem here

 

Aléxandros ho Mégas (Alexander the Great)

My body roped

In chains of memory

My soul all clad

In gray resounding pain

I feel like Aléxandros ho Mégas

Before he died at thirty-three

Regretting that he created

His own astounding legacy.

 

Grayish phantoms of past lovers

Lost centuries ago in heavy battles

Are whispering the same unnecessary story.

Oh, how I need my long forgotten sonneteer

To tell me how not to succumb

To the old pain of earthly glory.

*

Photo Credit: google.com, image labeled for reuse

 

 

Venetian Kiss

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Let’s kiss into the shadows of the Pala D’Oro

Full moons are bathing Venice into gold

The door of the Basilica was opened

The tale of the Byzantine’s refinement told.

 

Let’s kiss into the sound of Adriatic waters

And ride Venetian horses built in stone

Let’s change the end of Thomas Mann’s novella

Erasing Death in Venice with our kiss’ cyclone.

 

Let our kisses be transformed in sparkling chandeliers

Made of Murano glass suspended on the ceilings

Of all the souls who cried in Venice

Unknown, rejected, wounded in their feelings.

*

Most of you will recognize the work of Gustav Klimt: “The Kiss”. However, the image here is a picture of a copy of his painting made entirely of Murano glass on the Island of Murano, Venice.