MARIA MIRAGLIA
COLORFUL BUTTERFLIES
Words are magic
I love their sound
their meanings
fascinated I am
to see them
composed in expressions
read them and
dwell upon full points and comas
guess from the pauses
the reflections in the minds
of the people that once
penned them
through them grasp
the thought and emotions
because messengers they are
coming from obscure
unknown paths
conscious subconscious
from anything touching
men's hearts
even just for a while
but that weave bonds
between you and me
among us
and then.... linger on intonations
that tell what words
fail to say
if visible they 'd be
colorful butterflies
@ Maria Miraglia
THE SPIRIT OF THE TIMES
No more you want to listen
to the murmurs of the waters
cheerfully flowing down
from the mountain spring
but in them dive
your limbs to refresh
your thirst quench
the rain no longer inspire you with
poetry
you want instead on you
its touch enjoy
And when the moon peeps
at night
you want no longer
stretch your arms
to greet her from afar
enraptured admire her white light
while intent she is
on observing the world
but rather a lamp hold
tight in your hands
not to lose your way
when the charm of the dark
strong exerts its call on you
You left your dreams
for more concrete things
to feel while walking
the ground under your feet
in the desert you want no longer
listen to the spirit of the times
but of an oasis
soon catch the sight
Closed the door
to the mystery of life
miserable you go
to your fate
WINGLESS ANGEL
Your pain deep like the abysses
never will cease
to lacerate my soul
gloomy now
like the darkest of the nights
when threatening is the sky
Your eyes big like lanterns
sought in me your salvation
and whilst not a believer
I turned to the sky
and prayed God
told Him I was His son
to receive help
You were denied
what others is given
be witness of bright springs
and cold winters
Silently you've gone
with the fear of crossing the void
of the long jump
into the unknown
your gaze telling me
you loved me still
and ever will
MARIA MIRAGLIA
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