"philomela" poems
01.20.19
By: Ferentina Amfivallo Philomela
Our long lasting love is beyond infinity
Our relationship is sealed with eternity
The feelings and emotions are beyond reality
We're vivid lovebirds surrounded with intimacy
Im addicted to you as if you're an ecstasy
I'm the padlock and you are the key
Open my heart and I'll let you hear the harmony and melody
We are the proof that love is almighty
Maybe a deep sea can drown lovers
But the sea can't never drown the deep love of two lovers
We've made a promised the last time we met
That we will love each other till death
Our love will remain and never fade
As long as we still hold on to the promises we've made
Maybe we'll meet again when we're reincarnated
Hoping that we will see each other after how many decades
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 8:35 PM UTC
I feel forsaken
like a rolled newspaper in the rain.
Is that You? in the window box?
Is that You? magnificent in a woken engine?
I don't mean to be sullen,
a crushed flower with a brave yellow bloom--
I'm a vine growing in through the window
of your abandoned holy room.
Oh honey. My fingers flat upon
your smooth chest made of smoke,
I am rain falling ever further from her cloud.
Call me back---use your voice of spade-shaped leaves.
I will come, across the lawns and waters
to kneel at your feet
and sing.
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 6:40 PM UTC
Threading tapestries
the tethered sparrow
laments the absent scream.
Imbrued admissions
of his Oedipal anguish
clenched in callous fist
spills claret. Erubescent sobriquets
and uterine trauma
blot leaves, and the pale palour
first kissed, then rouged by rancour,
a blush rose
blooming faintly
in the shade of vitriol.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
#Jane Turell (1708–1735)
COME, gentle muse, and once more lend thine aid,
O bring thy succor to a humble maid!
How often dost thou liberally dispense
To our dull breast thy quick’ning influence!
By thee inspired, I’ll cheerful tune my voice,
And love and sacred friendship make my choice.
In my pleased ***** you can freely pour,
A greater treasure than Jove’s golden shower.
Come now, fair muse, and fill my empty mind,
With rich ideas, great and unconfin’d.
Instruct me in those secret arts that lie
Unseen to all but to a poet’s eye.
O let me burn with Sappho’s noble fire,
But not like her for faithless man expire.
And let me rival great Orinda’s fame,
Or like sweet Philomela’s be my name.
Go lead the way, my muse, nor must you stop
Till we have gain’d Parnassus’ shady top:
Till I have view’d those fragrant soft retreats,
Those fields of bliss, the muses’ sacred seats.
I’ll then devote thee to fair virtue’s fame,
And so be worthy of a poet’s name.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC