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 Aug 2020
Dark n Beautiful
An uneducated woman clings to a young lad’s side
He woo her, he romance her
in six month time he took her for his bride

on the honeymoon in the heat of the night
in the wooded  house lid by only the street lights

he saw her for whom she was: as she lay there
a thing as cold as ice, without any care

he consummate the marriage like a hasty
frighten, laid back  hare:

he rose up before dark, and followed the cat
as its sat on his grandfather old front door mat

he wonder why he downgraded himself , no ecstasy  
was it for lust or love, *** or sympathy

how could he take her for his bride,
and cling to her side,

Not knowing she was cold and sexless

A relationship like this can be painful
but not necessarily hopeless

**For Love is blind but with the fleshly eye
,
He was so wrong. today she is colder than ever
 Jul 2020
Dark n Beautiful
The last time I think of death and breath
In the same sentence: was on an Easter Sunday
And on that day when I saw videos clip over and over of a
Public assassination, a lynching in the year 2020

As humans beings we all need oxygen to live,
Never take it for granted, we need to breath
Same as for the fishes in the ocean they
Need, oxygen too, to survive,

My poems need a wider audience to get
The essence across, demographically
More than a public assassination
My faithful followers is the essence of my poetry/

If I say that they can heal the world in seven days
In the mind of my reader, they will
Probably asked, who does she think she is (God?)

You see the divine is the vaccine, the healer,
I need more time to write, the poems /
That will heal this world, my poems bring
Emotional connection to one’s inner thoughts:

Seeing someone taking them last breath is peaceful
They chest goes up and then down,
slowly with a goodbye
My father was singing, one of Fat Domino
Favorite song, then he slowly closed his eyes:

According to reliable source my x husband,
also struggle to breathe before he took his last  breathe

My gold fish just float to the top of the tank.
The last time I think of death and breath
In the same sentence: was on an Easter Sunday
And twenty minutes ago, before I compose this piece
 Apr 2020
Elisa Maria Argiro
First light in the Hudson Valley
Arbor Day of April, 1970.

Adrenaline coursed through our young
bodies, our hearts on fire with purpose.

As we rode our bikes, walked, or jogged miles
to our rural high school, red-winged blackbirds
called out from the misty swamps.

Beautiful but invading, acres of purple loosestrife
were rapidly taking over their wetland habitats.

Harbingers of the forests, blue jays issued
warning cries from deep in the woods,
where blights were killing our trees
with increasing frequency.

Three of us rode together, cycling in relative
silence, until we came to a meadow
selected for our early breakfast picnic.

We feasted on special fruits and cheeses,
hungrily stuffing in rare treats.

One friend began to send iridescent
soap bubbles into the chilly air.

Up they rose, up over the soft, puffy cloud
of her reddish curls, and into the dawning sun.

One bubble landed, unbroken, in the cold, dewy grass.

We stared at it, somehow understanding that here
was a delicate metaphor for our own fragile planet.

Approaching our school now, we breathed deeply the fragrance
of apple blossoms from commercial orchards all around us.

The spraying of pesticides had yet to be banned.*

We were sleepy in our classes that morning;
most of our teachers understanding that we stood
now for something worthwhile, that we believed in,
and they smiled with kindness, some even with approval.

Our principal agreed to an awareness-raising slide show
designed for our fellow students, teachers and parents.
An intelligent man, he was admirably tolerant of the wave
of changes that our generation brought with us.

Smoke stacks, polluted water, and dying wildlife
flashed onto a screen in the darkened auditorium,
accompanied by the vivid symphonic power of
Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring'- a score so revolutionary
that a riot broke out at its premier, in May of 1913.

We had no idea then how much worse things would become.

All these years later, we each do our part, blessing
the efforts of our children and their children,
*hoping fervently that we are not too late.
Written on Earth Day, April 22, 2016. This poem is dedicated, with special, heartfelt love, to my fellow alumni of Highland High School, Highland, NY, USA, and to our supportive parents and families. Special thanks to Gloria Caviglia for her timely, sweet reminder!
Above all, may we be blessed with active, disciplined, purposeful love for our Mother Earth, with tolerance and understanding for each other.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Feb 2020
Xallan
I can't say if I'm awake-
The lights work, physics hasn't failed
I'm learning from words stable
Non-dyslexic and readable
And from people with original thoughts
If the beauty I see is of vision,
Or deceptive imagination

But I can't believe-
That what I'm breathing is real air
That when I'm hungry I get satiated
That when I think the thoughts are mine
If every tactile sensation is not
Just a neural vibration
That my eyes aren't blinded and closed
To the reality, not conspiracy

I can only guess-
This dream is too real
I feel heartbreak as painful but
Still imaginary in a world too complex
For me to have imagined
And yet I doubt
My own originality fading
A matrix created by my own mind
Must be a super-mind but this I know
I am only a simple human
So this force keeps me in anesthesia

I can't say if I'm alive-
If deja vu is any less than a reminder
That I lived a life before
If the music stuck in my mind
Is not anniversary of my future funeral
Whether each exhale is fresh, or stale
Every heartbeat an imitation
In plastic and metal reconstruction
Of an ***** not present before
An operation of reinstation

Yet I still think-
With empty thoughts
I still feel the faint vestiges of dreams
The tendrils of different lives
Of lives lived
Of infinite possibilities, none real
None realized but one
If it is truly a credible world
With solid water and living earth
Upon which crawl so many skeletons
A single and unlikely hope

It's too easy for me-
The rhythms always balance out
All life is predictable
Every death is inevitable
As people are flung farther away
By the circulation of their expanding orbits
Tomorrow seems like it was a month ago
Yesterday was a year ago
My watch is 5 minutes fast
Constantly, constantly the wrong time
Clearly this can't be right
I'm destined to crash into reality
If I ever wake up from the lull
Come to a cumulative purpose

I cannot posit that I exist-
That I am of substance
With sides of time manifest
In conjugations of language
Past present and future tense
Tense as my nerves strung thin
Between conjectures
If thinking means I am
If being is a choice
If choices matter at all
If free will is just a tool
If the purpose is pointless
Then existing is irrelevant
And living becomes dreary
My existence of imagined import.
 Aug 2018
Poetic T
When we look above ourselves,
            A universe looks back.
And sees just little
                          0101010001010's
 Jul 2018
Traveler
To tell me twice
When eye's have said enough
I've read between the unwinding lines
I've no need for less than love

The twitch, the look
Uneven flow
Rest assured
I already know

  And be sure
That they do too
The rest is up to you
Unto thine own self be true
....
Traveler Tim
 Dec 2017
S Smoothie
Dear Universe,

Bless the poet's and their pearls of pain,
Steel them, so they may return to write again.
Bless thier jewel encrusted crowns of thought.
that every delicate word of verse is caught.
Let them pour out their soulful words
to transfuse our bleeding hearts.
Scrolling pages to guide us
through our darkest dark.
Lighting our highest joys
and deepest passions,
May we always preserve
these sacred bastions
May the poets never truly heal or break,
nor stop thier cries;
lest their flowing rivers of verse run dry.
That we may ever bathe ourselves
in rivers of consolation and joy
sending empathy through thoughts
of comfort and care,
to knit us closer in understanding
through words
in universal prayer.
May you all ways have the will to write!
 Sep 2017
The Writer
The world alight with brilliant flames
Crackling, roaring, and all-consuming
Slowly, slowly burning sun-kissed earth

Rusted copper and scalded vermilion
Tawny ochre and golden amber
A beautiful fire twisting, twirling its deathly dance

The blazing inferno destroys the world
Razing summertime's final last breath
With the charring remains of autumn once more
 Aug 2017
Cné

Cné
I believe in love...
In a blink of an eye, a life goes by
extinguished in the end.
And all that's done returns to dust.
No omen can portend.
Yet love lives on, infecting all
and never really dies
It goes beyond the realm of man
to live in fragrant skies.
And on the spacious sea of clouds,
it waits to find a port.
And then it anchors in a soul
to caper and cavort.

Traveler
Perhaps
In the emotional beginning
When head was yet held high
Stumbling through clouds
Of bright blurry skies
Love was a foolish quest
Of paralyzing highs
And now you're telling me
Love can never die?

Cné
Translucent,
the clouds we've sailed
and golden sunsets made
Kisses that we could have had
while watching rainbows fade.
Alas, a life's too short to spend
in fathomless regret.
Perhaps the wheel will turn again
another lifetime yet.
And so, my love
the voyage goes on,
to "golden years"?
We'll see.
Until
the other side reveals
what shall become of "we".

Traveler
Indeed
A dangerous theory
I can't imagine
Love roaming free
The source of all misery
Another invisible ghost
Possessing unaware host
Surely
Love is the blood we bleed
All across time and history
Love is more than a mere key
More than a want
Love is a need...


Cné  
Traveler Tim


 Aug 2017
Cné
There is a place that I go
that exists within my mind.
And when I'm feeling troubled,
I can leave this world behind.

On wings of gossamer
I'll sail in airships made of mist
to sparkling shores of diamond dust
the golden sun has kissed.

There are unicorns with silver horns
and friendly dragons too.
There's griffins, fauns and centaurs
why, it's heaven's petting zoo.

The rain falls gently on my face
from tears the angels shed.
And blessings from The Father fall
like leaves on every head.

I'll swim in lakes of lavender
and also float upon my back.
to see a glittering rainbow there
with no colors does it lack.

There is no evil in this place
no envy, pride or hate.
For if I wish admission there,
I check them at the gate.

I'm kin to every heartbeat
and a soul mate to each star.
And I'm never lost or scared
for He's never very far.

And everyone is family there
the humans and the beasts.
There is no *******.
There's no "greatest" and no "least".

Someday, I'll find thy solitude
and there I shall abide.
And I'll join the souls
that I have missed
upon thy mystic tide.
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