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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


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


One By One We Feel the Breezes

One by one we feel the breezes
that soothe us musically
like a breath of silver wings.
Rivers fade into themselves
leaving expressions we understand
yet do not quite notice.
We chase shadows into hidden corners
when night falls;
lie them close
just to hear them ring.

We desire to touch another’s name
but when we close our eyes
we are carried away.
The answers we find are reflected
on our fingertips as scars
returning to show more of us
that our time has come.
So we bend like weeping willows
again inspired
by come what may.

Wisdom spirals breathtakingly,
rains down
divided by our faith.
The hand of fortune confounds us,
deafens our ears
to what we believe.
Dawn breaks and we yearn
for what is impossible
to live over again.
Yet, one by one we feel the breezes
that soothe us

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/14/2011

The Fog of Fear: The blinding light of truth and justice, can pierce this fog of fear………..


Exhaled as Poetry

I feel your tenderness underneath my bare feet;
see my face as a reflection
of a flame, in your eyes.
One thousand teardrops
fell from your heart,
love swallowed each one.
Tasting comfort inside a smile,
a heart grows fond of drinking
love’s replies.

Your words fall as leaves
into the river of my heart’s desire,
come to life
as I exhale them as poetry.
Each breath I take
rises against another,
creating feelings inside my heart,
ringing in tones that listen to each thought;
bringing such a lovely peace
to me.

I am embraced by breezes
stirred from a lasting love
that has grown strong like an oak tree,
it bends but never breaks.
Love now sails as notes
pouring from my lips.
My heart leaps with joy
and sings replies perhaps unheard,
but felt with each breath
I take.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/11/2011

Absolutely gorgeous poetry weaved as magic from this poet’s pen. Her pages contain art to dazzle your eyes and your senses. A must see and stay for awhile. Thank you Willows0001 for such a beautiful site.

Eddie OBryan photography

Presence of Warmth

I touched the presence of warmth on my pillow
it made me feel sure that I was safe,
went back to sleep smoother than my heartbeat.
Then I awoke to find myself hidden
behind memories of you.

Standing on the corner of never say no,
my feet are firmly planted
in I cannot say I am sorry.
Will I be the rock laying here asking myself
where I found this bitter pill
under my tongue?

Did I sleep while it rained on everything we ever had
until nothing but sand existed
inside all of these silent moments?
When bluebirds sang
about how the stars laugh
was I here drowning
in my pride?

I touched the presence of warmth on my pillow,
then I reached out to yours
felt the cold.
I lay here and listen to the rain
falling smoother than my heartbeat
I have never felt
so alone.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/08/2011


Burning Letters I Never Wrote

Keeping please and thank you
within the answers held far
from talking eyes.
Is a burst of air splashing casually
from the pages of a book,
waltzing into sighs.

I just saw indignation
standing out in a thin smile again.
Emotionless laughter is at my door
with another sign, still and pausing
when night has entered
silently my friend.

On one side little boxes full of hope
grow bigger as they sit.
Yet, misting gently in the distance
comes the morning
instinctively they grow smaller
then they quit.

I do not know where I should be walking
or if I should mention what I see.
When uncertainty brings a little chill
hardens this soft heart
I carry
here inside of me.

You may hear stones from the ground
drinking the truth from my hands.
But not, if you still have
an axe to grind
stupidities pipe to smoke
at your command.

Listen to the cries of no, no, no
breathing inside all human souls.
Close your eyes and pretend
you are in Disneyland
burning every letter I sent you
but never wrote.

Your breath will come in a whispered kiss,
running through your head.
The poison from your mouth
will empty out into all the goodbyes
you meant, but never
quite said.

Copyright *Neva Flores @09/06/2011


Imperfect Creatures

The spinning of the Earth is never interrupted
for anyone.
Although, faces of men whisper of experience
between ideas that come undone.

Deep questions slide into all we know to be,
step right in.
Yet, we do not hesitate to look away,
when their hours begin.

Looking back at the summer of our lives,
were we supposed to hold hands?
Perhaps we never tried, or merely gave up
in the end.

Just another minute or two tries not too smile
when reading what’s been said.
We wait for justice, and then roll over
playing dead.

Settling in, we do not mention lessons
learned from each moment.
Is this not a step towards
what lies underneath our torment?

Are we running out of time and a foot behind,
because we do not care?
Do we only commit to that which comforts
our own air?

Sometimes I doubt if we closed our eyes for a second
we would see the entire picture,
perhaps because, we refuse to see ourselves
as we are,
Imperfect Creatures

© 2011 Neva Flores – Changefulstorm

Dear Hannux, your blog is beautiful and I love seeing your smiling face when you visit mine.