Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Nov 13 · 216
Conviction
Leocardo Reis Nov 13
The most stalwart of loves
go unfulfilled;
a brilliant,
unfettered affection,
purified
by enduring heartache.

They are as
stubborn leaves in Autumn,
clinging to a branch.
As soon as the season is finished,
they shall be pruned without exemption,
yet they persist bitterly.
Nov 10 · 49
Moving on
Leocardo Reis Nov 10
To see you,
as you see me,
is a difficult art.
To repress it all,
to paint over
all the vivid colours
you inspire in me
is a labour of love.

All I'd like
is to see you
as you see me.
But to hear your voice
is to fall for all the same spells;
of all things concerning you,
I am defenceless.

Will the passing years
dull the yearning
of a heavy heart?
Perhaps,
but how helpless
I feel,
how lonely.
Lucid dreams
are my only bridge
to those an insurmountable
distance away.

There is no ship
that can breech
the barrier of time.
There is no ticket
destined for yesterday.

To those of my past,
if only I could impart
a fraction of
the tenderness
that swells from my heart.
I remember you all
with a special fondness,
one that can only be
forged by
lingering regret.

The moment in passing
and the
moment incoming,
smudges into the other.
Time blends effortlessly with itself;
hours melt into one another,
days are indistinguishable,
but the difference between
the past and present
is as evident
as a knife in the gut.

One must wonder
if pain
is the burden of memory,
that to preserve the past,
one must pay dearly at the present.
Nov 4 · 93
Departure
Every ship
leaving the port,
are each
a metaphor.

To the
brave who
embark,
how often
do you cast
a backward gaze?

To those
who depart
for other shores,
I think of you
daily.
Hourly.

When shall it be my turn
to cast a backward gaze
on those I leave behind?
I was fine
with waiting;
the breeze
of melancholy
carries with it
the distant smell
of blossoming flowers.

If waiting means
I can spend my time
imagining those flowers,
whose nectar,
whose petals,
entrance me with such splendour,
then I do not mind waiting.

At times, I envy
those who chose
to pluck from the ground
the flowers they had cherished.
But I...
Alas.

How I long for
a past
I did not have.
Oct 29 · 43
Irony
Leocardo Reis Oct 29
A fish
that chokes
on water;
A poet
who struggles
with words.
Oct 28 · 77
Intemperate
Leocardo Reis Oct 28
I am as snow in warmth of dawn,
I cannot linger
for too long.
Oct 28 · 491
Writing love poems
Leocardo Reis Oct 28
By writing love poems,
I have learned
that I only know how
to express
sadness,
not love.
Oct 28 · 368
Dinner
Leocardo Reis Oct 28
To eat alone
is to think
of another.
Oct 16 · 409
Another Friday night
Leocardo Reis Oct 16
My heart is in
a terrible state,
so I choose
to roam this city,
to ward off boredom
and the questions
I ask myself
about you
before I sleep.
Leocardo Reis Sep 28
A love
that blossoms
like a flower
before a storm.

Will you see it
before it is stripped
of its petals?
Before it is trampled
and ripped out by its roots?
Sep 21 · 56
Worry
Leocardo Reis Sep 21
A flower
that blooms
before a drought,
will wilt
without having
lived.

To think of you,
is to have such
thoughts.
Sep 19 · 160
Autumn
Leocardo Reis Sep 19
Should the leaves of a tree
feel embittered
that they must one day
expire in Autumn?
Likewise,
should I harbour
resentment
if I am to
fade into memory?
At dawn,
I comforted myself
by saying
there is still time.

At twilight,
I know
it had not been so.

To seek refuge
in the time that is left
is folly;
better to have done
than to have
thought of doing.
Sep 8 · 140
Memory
I am tempted
to bear my heartache
as pure bitterness,
but
I know that there is
a blissful sweetness
that is
just as accessible.

How shall I carry
my memory of you?
Should your image
be framed in my
petty bitterness?

For you,
I know only
tenderness.
For you,
there is only love.
“Here is a rule to remember in future, when anything tempts you to feel bitter: not "This is misfortune," but "To bear this worthily is good fortune.”

Marcus Aurelius
Sep 6 · 305
Proof
These passing moments
strike me as
most beautiful,
for even I can tell
that the present
will blossom
into an evocative,
eternal bitterness.

I cherish this
fruitless heartache
with renewed ardor,
as it is the only proof
I had ever loved.
Aug 31 · 671
Starfish
Leocardo Reis Aug 31
The starfish
must throw out
its stomach
to digest
its food.

In this sense,
the starfish and I
are similar.

To learn,
I must
throw out my brain;
it is only through
foolishness
that I truly
begin to understand.
But how many lessons,
once learned,
can be used?
Aug 25 · 95
Absence
Leocardo Reis Aug 25
If I could only capture
the moon,
stars,
ocean,
mountains
with blue peaks
and the green
of summer
on a
sunny day,

I could convey
the peace,
the despair,
of every absence.

To which direction
does the
wind blow?
How many have I met
for the last time?
Aug 25 · 160
Blossom
Leocardo Reis Aug 25
A timid flower
comes to full bloom
under the brush
of the summer breeze.

Similarly,
I have blossomed
by the warmth
of another's heart.
Aug 25 · 158
Intersection
Leocardo Reis Aug 25
Each passing day
is a step down
an ever diverging
trail.

Is it useless
to wonder
if these winding paths
ever cross?

How many
will see me again?
How many
promises will be
kept?
Aug 25 · 77
Stagnation
Leocardo Reis Aug 25
Between the moment that passes
and the moment to come
I am stuck
in the immeasurable present.
Aug 1 · 82
Love
It is a dance,
A longing
Set to the rhythm,
The nuance of
Furtive glances,
Unspoken words,
Chance encounters,
Innumerable coincidences
And a terrible solitude
Of the soul.

As these things accumulate,
It begins
Like embers given life
By a soft breeze.

But the second it is touched
It turns to sand
And slips through
The cracks of the heart.
One figures out
That something so fragile
Cannot exist.
Aug 1 · 142
Discontent
Cherished memories
Rendered
Shameful,
To be suffered
In private.
Jul 31 · 287
Weekend
Leocardo Reis Jul 31
I have known
no loneliness
like that of
a Saturday night.
Jul 29 · 66
Morning
Leocardo Reis Jul 29
My ceiling is
an off white.

I do not dare
go back to sleep.

I am awake
and in the realm
where you are real.
Jul 29 · 276
Without end
Leocardo Reis Jul 29
My thoughts
whirl about
like a sudden
gust.

You are
to me,
as the restless wind
is to the
petals of a flower;

fleeting,
out of reach,
ungraspable.
Jul 19 · 240
Spring
Leocardo Reis Jul 19
We are all capable
of blissful tenderness,
we are all
lovers
waiting for Spring,
to bloom with
the flowers.
Jul 19 · 267
Into the night
Leocardo Reis Jul 19
Cloaked with
a false sense
of dignity
and importance,
I convince myself,
halfheartedly,
that if I can last
just one more night,
everything
will fall into place.

But with the dew,
the morning sun
evaporates
each drop of hope
I had mustered
in secret.  
Today
is the same as yesterday,
perhaps a little
worse.

I slip slowly
into irrelevance,
into the night
which I struggle with,
the night which
I now know well.
Jul 17 · 329
Silence
Leocardo Reis Jul 17
Silence
is pure
and beautiful.
One can make
such powerful
statements with
silence.
I do not need to ask
if I am wasting their time,
or if I am boring,
their silence
answers all my questions.
Jul 13 · 124
Dilemma
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
Give me strength
to act boldly
or courage
to endure myself,
I do not know
which to ask for,
for I cannot have both.
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
The drops of mist from crashing falls
descend upon my face
and scatter in the whirling breeze
to dance in playful grace.
Jul 13 · 80
Yearning
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
I yearn only to be
understood,
each action
decipherable,
each sentiment
understandable.
I do not yearn to be loved,
just understood.
Jul 13 · 79
Tonight
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
Tonight,
I dread to sleep.
My fingers are restless,
they yearn to write,
but alas,
I have nothing to write.

It is not that I have been bled dry,
it is just I have not lived.
To sleep,
to live,
it seems that
I am unable to do either.
Jul 13 · 30
Reassurance
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
What would a good man do?
Surely
more than I,
no?
Jul 13 · 214
Goodnight
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
I am ready to drift
into the endless night,
as if it were an ocean.
Like waves of the tide,
my dreams will wash over me.
But I do not mind.
In them are
the reflection of
the stars.

It is only at night
that the constellations can be seen.
Here, I can find my way.
Which dream,
which constellation,
shall I see tonight?
Who will appear
by my side?

What wonders a night of sleep can do,
if you can fall asleep.
Jul 13 · 228
Burned
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
Today,
I am singed with regret.
I have forgotten
how to find my way in life,
my reasons for writing poetry,
as well as
sunscreen.
Jul 13 · 106
Passion
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
In disheartened passion
my heart melts
like the sunset of a
spaghetti western film.
Jul 13 · 253
Waterfall
Leocardo Reis Jul 13
Emerald pools
that pour into
cascades of foaming white,
thrashing about;
waterfall.
Jul 12 · 50
Nothingness
Leocardo Reis Jul 12
When faced on questions
of nothingness
one must ask
if meaning had been supposed.
In light of this,
even the greatest of disgraces
can be weathered,
the greatest of heartaches
can be understood.

Must one question
the implication of nothingness?
Surely, you understand.
It is something always present
and only uncovered,
to be learned
time and time again.

If nothingness breaks your heart,
you have presumed
that it was not nothing
from the start.
It is a matter of expectation,
one which could have never been true.
Jul 9 · 395
I am not a good lover
Boredom is the enemy of
contentment.
To love
is to mould the other's
emotions,
for better or worse.
We cannot get away
with a passionate
nothingness.
Jul 9 · 217
Bitterness
Above all things,
I know bitterness
because I was born
without having been asked.
Jul 6 · 662
Lessons
It seems that
there are some lessons
that can only be learned
the hard way.
Jul 4 · 153
Confirmation
I am like
a small dog,
every second
I need confirmation
that I am loved.
Every absence
encases an eternity
of solitude.

Was I
a good boy?
I might have been told so
a few minutes ago
but how about now?
My self doubt
will last forever,
only to be dispelled the next time
you place your hand on my head.

But withdraw your touch
and the next eternity
starts again.
Jul 3 · 436
It will rain
Summer blue
and egg whites
smeared across
the horizon.

It will rain soon.
Jun 29 · 140
Wedding toast
Leocardo Reis Jun 29
To happiness and health
and future prospects
of wealth.
Jun 27 · 123
Falling in love
Leocardo Reis Jun 27
Why the obsession
of not experiencing pain?
So what if all that I do
or try
is a futile effort?
Pain is reassurance that
I am correct in my feelings,
and rare proof
that connects me
to great poets of the past.

Everything in my life
is filled with a lightness,
a brevity,
I do not take anything too seriously anymore.
All is as it should be,
just as my pain should strike me bitterly,
my affection will act to unburden me
of emotions too heavy to carry in secret.

There are only dire consequences in loving too little,
One can justify the suffering associated with loving too much.
Jun 27 · 128
A heart in anguish
Leocardo Reis Jun 27
When the heart is in anguish
so few people matter.

We are all consumed by flames
which can only be quelled
by the delicate touch
of another.
But it only matters who
not how.
As long as they try,
we can come up with an infinite amount
of justifications
to excuse ourselves of our sadness.

But think of those who try
and do not a thing for our sorrow.
They are the ones who write poems
about anguish in their hearts.
Jun 27 · 1.2k
Like someone in love
Leocardo Reis Jun 27
My footsteps,
like finger tips
on a piano,
play a
lonely song.
Jun 27 · 75
Poet
Leocardo Reis Jun 27
Sometimes
we have no choice
but to express ourselves
terribly.
That is why
there are so many poets,
yet so little
worth reading.
Jun 27 · 131
Poetry
Leocardo Reis Jun 27
All of poetry deserves to be written,
but so few of it deserves to be read.
Next page