Barista Favorite: i am your soul/short-prose-fiction — Go Dog Go Café

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I am honored and delighted that my poem “i am your soul” was acknowledged by Go Dog Go Café. For more beautiful poetry please visit Go Dog Go Café.

 

look for me my love

my body shines like lightening

striking down from Mount Olympus

i’m in the tremble of each tear

that poor hungry children shed

i’m the prayer of the lonely

the garden where the virgins blush

the mystic bite of occult ecstasies

i’m hidden in the Sistine Chapel

in haunted graveyards at midnight

i’m bursting from the keys of the piano

which plays alone Beethoven’s  5th

now call for god and breathe me in

for i am your soul.

 

We are pleased to announce the Barista Favorite from March 19th’s Promote Yourself Monday at Go Dog Go Cafe. It is short-prose-fiction’s poem i am your soul. You can read more of short-prose-fiction’s writing at Short Prose look for me my love my body shines like lightening striking down from Mount Olympus i’m in the […]

via Barista Favorite: i am your soul/short-prose-fiction — Go Dog Go Café

 

Pedro di Santa Fe #evening fantasy

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a sunset dressed in purple royal palm trees

folds of white drapes move like courtesans in a hot humid breeze

an open orchid falls and gently rocks my drink

your poetry stains my soul with red carnations’ ghosts

i dream of you…

*

he moves

somebody calls him Pedro

his eyes two abysses filled with desires

his body flames the tunes of Spanish songs

his passion makes the scented tavern swell

the white drapes cry and fall in love with him

he slowly sips my drink

i want to touch his lips

the ghost of a carnation pulls me back!

you!

your poetry!

i will wait for an eternity…

*

i laugh

i leave

an old song hunts me

Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pe

Bellissima Aventura di Santa Fe

i leave

i laugh

the purple palm trees wave at me.

*

partake

 

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

 

 

….and Edgar Allan Poe is laughing

It’s night

And Edgar Allan Poe is laughing

Sarcastically, morbid,

With no mercy, as he always did.

Don’t sing my praises in your poems

You know I’m not the courtesan

Who whispers crafted loving words

And pantomimes the innocence

To gain the favors of the bruised admirers

Disoriented flying like black birds.

 

Just come in bed with me tonight

And let’s make love

The love we’ve always made

In an attempt to leave this universe

Devouring each other bit by bit

Like in a painting signed by Salvador Dali

Going beyond the fear of a terrifying death

Each time we knew a hurricane will hit.

 

Prompt: mercy