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Up there the sky has a certain way of imparting,
More than clouds.
Take its mood for instance and translate.
Sometimes matching the observers who gaze upwards.
Stationed in a half moment’s gaze.
Watching the punctured holes of sunshine.
Freed.
The invisible substances.
Raining down.
Brushing shoulders with them.
As light is brought home.
https://www.susykamber.com/
Ekphrastic Poetry Explores Art
My poetic writing accompanying my art at various sites. Please send an email if interested in viewing.
 Sep 2020 Dante Rocío
manlin
cw: domestic abuse

Despite being a girl,
I’ve always liked
video games
with the

bright colors,
challenges,
stories, and
heroes.

I used to prefer books
as I had more imaginary freedom
over the characters and scenery
until I learned my mom was screaming for him to stop.

But really,
the sound effects in video games
are amazing.
I feel like I’m my character!

Moreover, the music
for this game
makes me feel like
I really can save the world.

If I can save
their world,
then why can’t I
save ours?

I’ll study well,
make a vaccine,
save endangered wildlife from extinction,
solve world hunger.

I want to be a nameless hero
just like my favorite characters
who do it simply out of responsibility
instead of fame or fortune.

If I just
leave
my bedroom…
Can I really do anything

if I can’t even
save
my mom
from one man?

"Save the galaxy by…"
My character chimes.
No!
I’ll do it this time.

I’m done being a little kid.
I’ll save her.
But
how?

No book
video game
or class
has taught me how to save my mom.

The feelings
are returning now.
Dread, agony, and disgust materializes
as I recognize my face in the mirror.

Silence.
There is no character theme
if I disregard the sound of my mom crying.
Instead, I observe the boring figure in the mirror with no sharp angles or colors.

He left when I was deep within the pool of self-loathing,
claiming he’d get himself something to eat
as us women haven’t prepared food for weeks,
shelves bare.

When I leave my room for the first time in days,
my mom greets me with a smile,
pretending like she wasn’t just crying.
“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Sweetheart,” she says, voice wavering.
I can smell him on her.
“Do you mind making him food to eat?”
“No.” I reply as I peer into the empty cupboards.
 Sep 2020 Dante Rocío
Aparna
𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾,𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒

𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌

𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺,𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽;

𝗌𝗒𝗅𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌

𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝖾-𝖽𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾

'𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋;

𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗑𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗎𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌

𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗎𝖻𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽;

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾

𝗈'𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌

𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽

𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾,𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

^^
Scroll through Pinterest feed sometime.
.
.
.
And seize the inspiration:)
 Sep 2020 Dante Rocío
ajit peter
Yet to be born from womb
Society doth define our tomb
Birth be not our choice
Cry of a baby a defiance voice
A child to adult we grow
Shackles of society dulls our glow
Unknown path feared to take
Lost our dreams in society's wake
Compared to others in life
A rat race causing hearts strife
Abused are the weak
Blamed by natures freak
A neighbour better envied
An innocent in vanity deceived
Shackes cast by society's die
Hearts loving tears doth dry
Live to be just live to care
Shackles of society abhors to care
Begs he for food begs he for a life
Hated he for tis be his life
None to help none to care
Shackles of society prevents to share
The need of tomorrow today sought
Society's standards pains bought
A child to adult we grow
Seeking societies conformity to glow
The failed  looked below
The winners looked above
Scandals and gossip talk of the town
To the different ,society a mocking clown
Break free oh heart that rage
Let not thy passion held in cage
For long held by shackles as sage
Time to live thy dream written page

Break free with love not hate
Fear not to change thy fate
Them that laugh at thee may be
Jealous as they can't be thee

Shackles society doth hold
To the weak in vanity sold
Happiness and true heart it doth not hold
Break free thy story ever be told
 Sep 2020 Dante Rocío
Anna Elise
Sunflowers turn their faces towards the sun
following its warm path as it rises and sets
soaking up the comforting rays
in the winter they wither
shriveling in the grey
trembling at the loss of their old friend
the sun.

People can't act like sunflowers
we can't live to soak up sunlight
directing our lives to follow its path
sleeping through the winter
hiding our faces until the return of the warm friendly light
that melts the snow and brightens up the dreary grey

Outside I must direct my life towards the path most productive
working hard so I can have a future
and so my family and my children can have a future
I can't follow the sun with my face
like the sunflowers

But inside I shrivel in the grey of winter
the long cold months that drag on
while the sun hides behind clouds and snow
I too tremble at the loss of warmth
of bright sunny days filled with happiness

Outside I am people
but inside I am a sunflower.
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