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rain mist wreathed
virid groves
of evergreen
sun languished
behind clouds grey
overcast sky
lachrymose;
distant rumble
thunder;brontide
pellet-laden gusts
of wind;cold
leaf-stirring
nubivagant drops
falling
glistening foliages
rustling;
celadon leaves
rain-washed
brushwood damp
galore humus
dewy silence;
gerful downpour
incipient
another rain poem:)
  Oct 15 Dante Rocío
Cate
hiding under the duvet came
Dad’s heavy torch & a bottle of wine
& some of the creatures in my rhymes

many strange creatures hid with me
the largest the unmet manatee
she sings her siren songs to me

my great sea eagle in the gyre above
cries to me of the Arabian Sea, of lost love

the sad grey monkey on the hot tin roof
tells me bitterly that he knows our truth

my tiger hunts me in the dark outside
his beauty scorches me like a flame
those childhood dreams, in him I died

my sunfish swims the oceans wide
he lonely turns his cyclops eye
searching for me in the empty sky
This is not just
A career opportunity
It's an eternal call for
The background visual poetry
Model (Spirit)
Who will stay eternal
No less than the oldest star
No less than the solo sun

It's not about the pretty face
Or the latitude
And longitude of the body
We're concerned about
It's not about the education height
We have nothing to do with
It's not about your background
Where you are from

It's about the vibration
Grace and inspiration
It's about the energy
And the balance
It's more about
Your inner self
Everything who is you

All it takes is to sense the air
Go with the flow
Keep the mind at rest
Lost in time
Don't ever stop
Be inevitable
Wherever
Whenever
With each passing day

The rightful spirit
Drop your CV
Vibe with us
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Vacancy Announcement
  Oct 13 Dante Rocío
Maria Etre
She tangled herself
with her own stories
legs tied with guilt
and mind free to roam
curious of what's out there

She confused realities
with dreams, she diluted them
with ice cubes
to chill the hot pounding in her heart

She confessed her sins
and graffitied them on walls
hoping others will relate
and connect with that messy fate

Days are silly and nights too
why take things seriously
she asks herself before her waking hours are due

Why stutter and stumble
on pebbles of hesitation
when your heart is in overdrive
and never asking for directions?

Why panic and gag over anxiety
when it lingers in your throat
long enough for you to *****?

It's been a while
your heart is rusty
add some acid, wash it off
it will fool you oh it will
but darling
what's better than a fool
who knows himself
to be one
and willingly
fearlessly
welcomes
all sense
of
spontaneity
Late at night as I disappear from the public eye of the world
and leave behind all my worries and fears,
I take to the sky like a silent kite soaring in silence towards the stars
entering the sanctuary of a quiet moon;
With arms outstretched  I long for the sliver of dusk to bathe  me anew
and to clothe  me with her shimmering gown of shedding pink;
O'er by the sea I watch the urchins as they whisper to the mermaids
Captains christening their ships with  spy glass devotion,  
into the mysteries of night they go, gliding towards new horizons;
I lay on a hammock of woven cotton tucked between two hefty clouds of white,  no one here to sing to me except angels with their bugles and golden voices...
This is (my private universe) and only the stars are privy to my smiles,
as I glide into this daydream in the middle of the galaxy
Late at night I disappear from the world awash with eyes of stardust
in the morning I wake up and realize that the world is not my place ,
its only a parking lot for the human race, and I don't belong in it...

October 3, 2020
Dante Rocío Oct 12
The inclination
Towards domestic superiority
Does not refund
Ideals lost at discarded gambles.
Stygian kin browser,
Rest abode,
No lark made your path.
Leave the tie bloodshed
At the desk
(Once) home
Torn
A short cordial yet coolish prompt on a business noir photo as white collars break and have no foundance anymore inside the sight
  Oct 12 Dante Rocío
Dylan Thomas
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
     And the mussel pooled and the heron
               Priested shore
          The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
          Myself to set foot
               That second
     In the still sleeping town and set forth.

     My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
     Above the farms and the white horses
               And I rose
          In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
          Over the border
               And the gates
     Of the town closed as the town awoke.

     A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
     Blackbirds and the sun of October
               Summery
          On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
          To the rain wringing
               Wind blow cold
     In the wood faraway under me.

     Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
     With its horns through mist and the castle
               Brown as owls
          But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
          There could I marvel
               My birthday
     Away but the weather turned around.

     It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
     Streamed again a wonder of summer
               With apples
          Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
          Through the parables
               Of sun light
     And the legends of the green chapels

     And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
     These were the woods the river and sea
               Where a boy
          In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
          And the mystery
               Sang alive
     Still in the water and singingbirds.

     And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
     Joy of the long dead child sang burning
               In the sun.
          It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
          O may my heart's truth
               Still be sung
     On this high hill in a year's turning.
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