Archive for September, 2011


Photobucket

Internal Battle

Sometimes I get tired of having so little time
and plainly seeing my surroundings
crying out before the scent of dawn
has bloomed.
Can a single cloud breathe in
all of the warm air
that hails my universe,
removing all reason to wake up,
live life and resume?

I look at fleeing ships
whose sails are full of thunder
and I hear a song
dissolving the wildest parts of me.
Each note dances in the breeze
dropping its own melody
inside my heart
until it becomes the only thing
I hear inside my soul
and I struggle to even
breathe.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/30/2011

http://gmc.stumbleupon.com/

You created one of the most wonderful sites if not the most wonderful site on the internet. Such a glorious place to be as a creative individual. Some of us have spent years building beautiful websites here. No one seems to be interested in them eh, but yet some of us CREATIVE individuals who share the work of our hearts freely, making no money ourselves are just being pushed out the door. The half answers we received from Monica last week made us look like idiots.
Sir, what you have created has many pages full of beauty and the personalities of people from all walks of life and every corner of the world………… but do we hear from you? No……..silence. Silence speaks and it speaks loudly. This site was once the best thing since sliced bread and it fed the hungry. I personally have many visit my site daily to tell me that they find the words I share to be comforting. I visit sites here of other creative individuals and find great comfort myself. You have created a good thing and now you destroy it without a second thought. You leave in your wake a world full of hungry people who need words of hope and inspiration. Do you care? I would like to know…will you continue to be silent?????????????????

Photobucket

Poetic Showers

If ever there were no secret depths
inside the corners
of a heart,
perhaps lips would not
whisper words
with no preconceptions.
We could paint the air we breathe,
gentle colors that softly speak
to the mind
in a misty lullaby’s reflection.

If we could swim within our words
touching gray areas
with kisses of time
perhaps, we could gather waves
to last throughout the years.
In the dark of night,
our hearts’ would blush,
as they existed side by side
on the edges
of our atmosphere.

Wherever our hands desired to wander,
unnoticed they would never be,
flaming winds stirring
precious hours.
Once again, we could sleep on beds
of soft words raining down
into all of our emotions
and dream
in poetic showers.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/25/2011

Photobucket

Serenading Your Basis

You are a perfect branch
descending
from yourself.
I have been waiting
at your roots,
trying to find myself.

Which part of your trunk
do I stem from,
I cry out to the moon.
Am I not a part of you
whose flowers
are in tune?

I am sharing needful moments
full of sensations anew;
becoming naked
with each breath I take,
singing a song
of truth.

Staring into forever
my heart pounds
with hopes and dreams.
I am waiting at your roots,
with beauty bursting
at my seams.

You are a perfect branch,
no need to conform.
I am here
serenading your roots
to become your flowers that adorn.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/25/2011

joost5s reviews – StumbleUpon

http://joost5.stumbleupon.com/

I tried this method to export my Reviews, it works!!!! Thank you Joost5!

http://anothersusan.stumbleupon.com/

What a beautiful and uplifting blog…………….thank you for this one.

Photobucket

Hope’s Perfume

Like forgotten lines dancing around love
that never bloomed,
knowing not where to start or end.
You will know when you look
at the blurs that form
when crossing the night
once again.

Stretching across the lines are flowers
that once planned to brush the lips
of all the answers
you need.
Yet, the smile on your face
could change the mind,
overwhelm the heart
of destiny.

In the distance I see rain
coming down from the air of dreams
full of laughs and smiles
taking flight.
I stare for such a long time
knowing it could all soon go away,
and my heart cries
as I write.

Forgotten lines cut into winds
that wander
but have always been right there
dancing around love
that could bloom.
Without moving far off
or crossing the night
we can still
smell
Hope’s perfume.

Copyright *Neva Flores 09/20/2011

Onces reviews – StumbleUpon

http://once.stumbleupon.com/

“Take a number,” someone whispered in the night,” any one
Will do!” and come to think of it, it happened to be true..
They’ll dine in or out or perhaps linger in that long blue
Moment in the atrium, or then again, they’ll take the sun
At midnight or take the stairs and skip the banister. They’ll taste
The wine gone flat; and why not? That is, of course, unless they’ve read the signs

Photobucket

Sinking Into the Night

I am willing to sink into the sound
of night’s changing secrets
where the world sees my breath
wipe away the tears mirroring its pain.
Smiles are caught on fire,
wooed by this poet,
but do not reflect the same.

Instead of playing under trees,
I allow everything to be swept away
by the winds
on the soft petals of a voice.
A voice that empties all its brilliance
into our sleep
comes to see our smiles rejoice.

Life is exhibited in dirt
from the bottom of my shoe
yet never utters a word.
Still, I will never wave goodbye
to thoughts that turn.
Does anyone ever really understand
the smiles a poet burns?

I welcome hands that hush the existence
of whispered memories
lighting candles dwelling in our minds.
If you knew what was on the line,
would you be willing to sink
into night’s sound
in kind?

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/19/2011

Photobucket

High Above Our Never

Lightning strikes and shifts high above our never.
Time flows like a river standing out in delight.
There is more power within ideas
pressing against the throat of morning;
filling your life’s cup with wonder,
than when dusk stands alone
dressed only
in feathered flight.

You cannot pry open the fingers of flight
make them advance any higher
even if you want to know
about time that’s passed.
Twisting and turning you will begin falling,
until what you want to be
sweeps across this land.
Take my hand
perhaps we will learn
the truth at last.

Last night you looked better
than the first time I met you.
All the while familiar feelings
sank into our sleep.
Madness streams into a waterfall of self,
full of imperfection.
Where comfort causes passion
to stretch tenderly
into each word you kiss,
when our talk
runs ever deep.

All the tears that fall between rocks
surrounding your loneliness
want you to try hard
feel nothing at all.
They glisten as they attempt to become
lost inside your stubborn heart.
Forever tells me these tears
will continue as trails on faces,
and be heard as thunder
when they fall.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/16/2011