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 Dec 2013
Victor Marques
Miracles have a way of making news.
Even skeptics love the seas.
Religious or not--Christians, Muslims, Jews--
Christmas put them to their knees!


The mysteries that come our way
May say much than profound.
Christmas is like a new sound…
Just be happy every day…

Christmas is in your say,
Just believe and pray.
The sky is covered with lights,
Trees, presents with laces,
Father Christmas hired,
Put calm, don’t fired.
Christmas life embraces…

Fantastic Christmas.

Big hug

Victor Marques
- From Network, wine and people....
 Dec 2013
Tatiana Arredondo
Here darling,
rest your neck on my knife
and I'll cut us both a slice of peace.
 Dec 2013
PrttyBrd
Your words lead to your soul,
They have guided me, heart in hand,
To the truth of who you are,
And with bated breath I read them.
For it is there,
That your essence flows through me,
And carries me straight to you
copyright©PrttyBrd 15/12/2013

For jls
 Dec 2013
PrttyBrd
The darkness called me, needing me
Wanting me to follow and cover myself
And I slipped away, silently
Lost in the shadows that beckoned so sweetly
I took refuge in the fog
Whose dappled light was just enough
To lead me deeper into you
A collaboration with Jimmy L. Skinner

copyright©PrttyBrd 08/12/2013
 Dec 2013
PrttyBrd
gazing upon the empty words
breathes life as once she read
words on a page of nothingness
found love there in its stead
to know his soul as he doth hers
love never accepts defeat
though distance mars the loving hearts
for ne'er the twain shall meet
copyright©PrttyBrd 08/12/2013
 Dec 2013
Victor Marques
O mar dos poetas

Sereias do mar em que eu acredito,
Ilhas do oceano pacifico,
Noites que dormem em mim,
Cavalgadas no horizonte sem fim.

Escravizados pela monotonia que nos engana,
Faróis que alertam os desprevenidos,
O azul do mar que nos chama,
Poema dos poetas esquecidos.

A liberdade dos versos meus,
Ondas brancas com espuma,
Linhas azuis de coisa alguma,
O mar e Deus.

Cemitérios dos poetas sem nome,
Barcos sem velas içadas,
Imensidão que abraça e consome,
O mar, os poetas e suas cavalgadas.

Victor Marques
 Dec 2013
Victor Marques
Um grande amor nunca morre

Um grande amor não pode morrer,
Não pode fechar o livro sem ler…!
O vento é por vezes altivo,
Com este amor eu sempre vivo.

O amor gosta do orvalho de madrugada,
Com sua janela aberta, fechada?
Os lugares boa lembrança sempre te mostrarão,
O grande amor também vive de solidão.

Não dorme sempre em teu leito,
Pode até ser teu par perfeito?
Estradas sinuosas por vezes num só caminho,
Sorriso que se sente em menino…

Um grande amor gosta de ver a lua,
Ser verdade minha e sua,
A tristeza nos mutila e invade,
Amor que nunca acabe…

Victor Marques
amor , lembrança, solidão
 Nov 2013
Victor Marques
Para ti meu amor

Sem ti não saberia viver,
Abrir o livro para ler,
Sentir o orvalho da manhã,
Noite fria e vã.


A Primavera seria Inverno,
O Céu inferno.
A poesia nunca lida,
A vida não seria vida.

Conquistas sem valor,
Aconchego e amor,
Conselhos sensatos,
Relatos e relatos.

Vida enfadonha,
Solidão seria medonha,
Tu tens alegria e simpatia,
Tanto de noite como de dia.

Victor Marques
 Nov 2013
Victor Marques
ADORMECIDO NOS SONHOS VIVIDOS

Entre margens dos rios conhecidos,
Sonho com sonhos vividos.
Anseios nobres e sonolentos,
Adormecido em quentes mantos.

Serei sepultado com folhas mortas,
Com videiras, oliveiras, belas hortas.
No ermo ressuscitarei feito luz,
Com a bandeira do amor a Jesus…!

Tenho um carinho excelso pelas gentes singulares,
Feitas de um amor e seus sentidos olhares.
Paraíso de saudades já vividas,
Memórias nunca esquecidas.

Recordações de tudo que me apaixonou,
Da terra que sempre me amou.
Horas paradas nos salgueiros do ribeiro,
Sou do Castanheiro…

Um abraço com carinho e amizade
Victor Marques
terra, nascimento,douro,Castanheiro
 Nov 2013
Victor Marques
Memória branca da tua imagem Rio Tua

Por entre vales e frescas fontes,
Socalcos e belos horizontes.
No comboio sempre do Tua,
Um beijo na doce lua.

Rio tão belo que engoles as colinas,
Memória branca da tua imagem,
Comboio sem carruagem,
Carrocel sem suas meninas.

S. Lourenço que te olha divinal,
Rio Tua do bom Deus e de Portugal.
Pedras inertes tuas sempre serão,
És rio e bom vilão…

Tantas histórias os vindouros contarão,
Dum rio com memória e solidão,
Rio dum comboio que nunca vai passar,
Excelso amor vai perdurar.

Victor Marques
rio, amor, memória,comboio
 Nov 2013
PrttyBrd
Clear blue runs cloudy
Midday Sun obscured
Tears dry as they form
Love, through pain, endures
110513
 Nov 2013
Charlie Chirico
Today, I'm going to **** them with kindness.
I'll walk the streets with a skip in my step,
corners of my mouth arched, skin tough.
I will be rubber. I will not be glue.
I will avoid sticks and stones.
I will be Teflon.

Yesterday, I killed someone, with kindness.
I created art, in many ways, I created Hell.
A page filled with gestures may seem ageless, however,
a spectacular self-awareness occurs.
There is closure. There is completion.
Unlike the manipulation of one's face.
There too is completion, but closure is not
always certain. Some leave with last words
that linger. Some lift their arms to The Lord,
Lord hear their prayer. And others find
themselves at peace, living on in the hearts
and minds of others, loved or not.

Is a legacy more important to an Atheist?
That's speculative, I suppose. But if what they
say is true, and most CEO's are psychopaths,
then I would assume that it is. Monetary value
will always triumph over theoretical morality.
And I say that morals and ethics can be theory
to a man certain of his faith, because in the end,
sin can be absolved. Faith in a higher being, in
something bigger than yourself, often leaves
thought of peers as dismissible. For they have
their own demons to overcome.

How do you accept indifference in a system
that is above natural law? Omnipotence should
never be exposed to have a grey area, especially
when it is considered to be set in stone. Oxygen
and gravity aren't, but tell that to a man who
is falling and trying to catch his last breath.

Lastly, consider art.
As the creator, the mastermind hidden in
the clouds to let his work speak volumes.
The divine grace that is told in brush strokes,
in notes placed to play, to be presented.
That's a beauty that is foresaken.
Another key representation of something
seen but not seen.

Even a deaf man delivered notes he could not
hear, rivaled ones able, and challenged normality.
The difference between an artist, and
a person producing art, is that an artist
will use blood, whereas the latter
searches for a comparable color.
I am an Atheist. My friends know this, as do most of the people that have come and gone in my life, but there is the occasional person that comes to find this out about me and makes it a personal goal to try and persuade me, or sometimes tell me that I am sadly mistaken and misguided. Usually this happens to me at work, although it has happened in my personal life as well. I don't take offense to it, quite the contrary, I find myself thinking of a way to thoughtfully elaborate my views. Sometimes commiserating, and other times pure indifference, but that is the beauty of personal choice. But as much as I keep my views to myself, I find that some religious people will take the time to extend their beliefs in a way they see as formidable, when I see it as frivolous. This poem I wrote at my job, after having a conversation with a customer that finds light in The Lord and future salvation. When I explained that I was an Atheist he told me that I just haven't found spiritual enlightenment yet. To say that I wasn't annoyed would be a lie, but I have also conditioned myself better than that to let someone have enough power over me to conduct myself in a disrespectful manner.

Thanks for reading.

- Charlie
 Oct 2013
Tatiana Arredondo
There doesn't exist
a more bitter reminder
than seeing your bedroom
window light up
from across the street.

Showing a silhouette that isn't
yours.

Your mother visits your room
every night now,
she sits at your desk from where
you used to flicker the bedroom
lights to catch my attention.

She cries awhile.

I do too.
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