Ernesto Estefan

Jan 2018

If I was a poet

Memphis'

I will not be fooled
He loves me;
I know by every 'honey-
and the lips on my forehead'
By the way his eyes smiles at me-
I know he is drawn to the shipwreck

He took charge of the sea'

He shone in me
My heart is happy
His presence is an extreme privilege'
While I try to behold the 'eternity

He show'd me the best of what love can'be

He took charge of the sea'
And filled the vast ocean with his generous wine
That nature hath align'd
And I drank like a fith'

These graces shall endure
Eternal, constant, pure
A joy, unknown to kings;
For he who leaves the passage free - to love
Shall let in 'all the reft;

And in the night, when the lamp swang a little too low
I yawn and sleepily pull myself to him
Nestled up by his glorious lanate chest
I slumber'

And then,

I woke up'

On the other side-
Of the road to Memphis'

So we live - as now we live - to be
Mean while
We will live together
In the verses of my poésies'

Ernesto Estefan Jan 2018

Between The Bars

Cigarettes after cigarettes after cigarettes ,
Barrels of nicotines
Sometimes green flowers with harsh smoke veil ,
Her tunnel she mazed with mist of darkness ,
Weaving the oblivion never knew where it leads ,
How it ends ,
She kept practising over and over again .

His voice was cold ,
Yet heavy and bold ,
Paving the dim yellow lights
He drilled the night's routine ,
Chased the bewildered dream ,
Like a wind and unseen ,
Reached the volcano's end ,

He saw her glistening eyes ,
No matter how dark the shade was ,
How in distant it was ,
Still shined like the silver queen of the sun ,

In her nest , panting ,
uncanny was her dance beat ,
Euphoric ideas enthralled by his sight ,
Roared in her veins ,

Like a blue bird she wanted to fly away ,
Like a humming bird she was crooning to his breath ,
A gorgeous gladiolus that she smelled ,
Quivered her toes from beneath the planet .

Between the bars two glances were met .

©

Jan 2018

If I was a poet

The Confession

'The moment I laid my eyes on you
I knew you could hurt me the best
I crave loss and despair and heart break ;
' I confessed

So what if I can't feel the love ;
I still can feel the pain
Obfuscating the visions with thick veil
Eyes dry .
For I do not know how to write
Ink flows from my eyes ;
free as the fallin rain .

Poisoned by contempt'

Yet, I will love, again ;
to re-gain, the stain .

Ernesto Estefan Jan 2018

It hurts

The morning was harsh ,
And it hurt.
The sun was bleeding ,
The morning felt the burn .

It hurt bad ,
The heart was heavy ,
Heaving with shrouded shout ,
It hurt .

But do not let the door stay closed ,
If it hurts , let it hurt more ,

The wine turned black ,
The lunatic bled ,
And every drop of blood, she tenderly swept ,

The noon was harsh ,
And it hurt ,
The sun was obscured ,
The clouds were black ,

It hurt bad ,
Really really bad ,
His breath was heavy ,
Suffocated ,

Smothered in wound ,
It hurt bad ,

But do not let the door stay closed ,
If it hurts , let it hurt more ,

The spoon turned red ,
With the heat he freed ,
The lunatic bled ,
And every drop of blood, she tenderly swept ,

The afternoon was a rush ,
He could not weave a new burn ,
But he melt .

The flame ,
The ruin ,
The wound ,
The unseen ,
Forsaken .

The night was cold ,
Snowy and alone ,
He could not breathe ,
Still he spoke ,
Mistaken , misfortune ,

She nurtured , She swept ,
Every drop he bled .
It hurts , It is wounded .

©

Ernesto Estefan Jan 2018

Beloved’s Touch

So, I entered the tavern ,
The winebringer served me with ancient bottle of silver wine ,
I poured it on my soul ,
Each and every drop ,
And it became Love .

Jan 2018

If I was a poet

Gradually, Yours.

His fingers are foolish
His provocative smile
His deadly warm breath strikes

Oh how he pulls me closer a bit every time

Not too much - not too less - he likes to take it slow
Yet he lingers in all the right place
Making me yearn for it more

Ran fingers across my chest
Making me weak to my knees'
Oh how he spun my whole world

between a glance and a kiss

Where the whole world stopped - for the briefest of times'
He witnessed my destruction
I'm addicted to hurting my love
Make me suffer !

I'm ready for redemption'

Ernesto Estefan Jan 2018

Liqour of love (Papaya Juice)

And your tenderness is unwrinkled ,
The boiling surface ,
A sip of sweetness , another slightly sour ,
The nuance of variance ,
Hits every particles ,

And you float ,
Like a boat ,
Not on the water but on the pond ,
Pond of perpendicular humane desire ,
It goes on ,
Endless in vow .

Then you drool ,
Like the winter dew on the peak of a bent over green lash ,
The drop falls but never on the ground ,
Demolishes in air ,
It’s gone , disappeared .

Now you swim each corners of the torrent ,
Like the tornado , contagious ,
And you destroy anything comes in your way ,
In different manners ,

The bitter the better ,
The sweeter the greater ,
The **** is the eater .

©
18.1.18