Four Poems

By [http://ezinearticles.com/?expert=Marieta_Maglas]Marieta Maglas
MY SOUL IS GUILTY OF LOVE
My soul is guilty of love,
That love devastating my life
To create a new better one.
My love tastes my flesh,
That painful part of me
Continuously and little by little
Dieing.
I still feel this need for temporary things,
But love will never be a thing.
It will never be temporary.
I still try to reconcile
My individual part of world
With my Christian faith.
I still live between
Primitive and humble animals,
Trying to understand my solitude,
Trying to save my unfulfilled desires,
Thinking that
The whole past human glory
Is enough for me.
I try to understand
Its delicate dazzling dream
Of reaching the eternity in ephemeral.
I'm overwhelmed with
Its fossil coral thought and its wet reality.
CANEPHOR WITH A BASKET
Your voice is a
Canephor with a basket for songs
Coming towards me like a blue dream.
Delicate but strong,
My silence beats your ears,
Leaving a trace of love
Like a fog carved in the air
Or unlike a name carved in an oak tree.
My silence and your voice
Weave new vibrations.
It's like an embrace.
Whatever I'm touch'd from,
It clutches my mind.
THE FLOWER'S SCENT (SONNET)
The flower's scent for the moon's highness
Is like red of hero leaving his battle far away!
Forever he lives with his induced blindness
'Cause his courage disappeared in the spring of May!
The honest Helen of Troy in her inner fire bent
Her strange memory there wanting forever to lye!
Don't blush her truth and the flower's scent
Don't ever stir the scent of any opened lie.
The indifference and the hate usually can twist
The power of the Rainbow-Queen with a false tear
The rose of the flower's sense maybe don't exist
Even when looking after them very, very near!
The realistic cruelty of any clever black heart
Is to make the sense of any blame a work of art.
THE EYE OF SILENCE
My eyes were ringed with darkness
And the dew of sadness
Blanketed my genes.
Your words of love
Were on the left angle of my lips.
I wanted to be able
To continue this story of love,
But the chestnut leafs yellowed
So dramatically in autumn,
The wind really tortured itself
In the cold air
And the cold penetrated forever
The spine of my loneliness.
Only with you
I have seen the unseen
And I understood
The meaning of unmeaning.
Only you can make love
To have a deep sense.
You became my cherished memory,
My longing aches
Inside my wet polished stone,
Seemingly shining
In the wave of my life river.
My eyes of silence
Drip the tears of time.
I still close them in deep moments
To feel my existence.
I open them again
Into another world.
I see the birds flying and I understand
That my spiritual flight must be
Upwardly sensed forever.
Marieta Maglas
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