BE

Be An illusory of the night, I come to you, somehow bizarre Mysterious, not with fangs, nor claws But steadfast arms and folded knees. Words and letters, a sucker for In recesses embed; so lean - In thy heart I live, expire - That love would stay, with you I lie. Apart from scripts, I can't exist Apart from rage, I wilt, desist. Apart from you, will not persist Apart from you, without the mist. Read me, light me, bend me, now! Deeply fire me, fierce as how - You would an arrow to a Hymen. Gently as you would To bombs, careful as to fragile wicks, The ageless angel fleeting lips. Minds of seas, rose blossom comes Ascending moon, blue clouds on bed. Tell me now, the Phallic Force Tell me now, 'die Wahlverwandschaften? ' Show me fire, air, water, earth Breathed on the mirror of my Coffin. Trace with your fingers The shape of your mouth's kiss of Cross and sacrifice. Tell me About love. Show me heaven, As lovely as eternity, And loneliness when you sleep alone. How strong, your thighs I hold so close And tinder eyes of God aglow 'Mortal, guilty, but to me - The entirely beautiful! (Auden) ' Awake the fields, the core of earth Let blood be poured! Love must be! So don't delay or tides flow now First blood in front the Immaculate - It is finished. I am with you, Carpe diem! Close to me, be. rose flores rosevoc2

TRAIL

Trail

To the library, I go, station by station.  

You,  peak of my dreams.  

Those pigeons come to gather around my terrors, and for a time, say hello, daring on my palm, swift, ascending for a next flight.

I sit in the park, waiting for your call.  My phone is dead, as your voice far and away.

“I’ve tried to hitch, Baby –“   become a flowering shrub like althea – but that isn’t just me; because I rake fire, kneel side by side with the sun or just stay a plain blade of grass.

A monument of mountains, St. Jude in my pouch, that winter, facing all the seasons of the earth, I face empty graves, most beautiful to make love.  I mine every corner of katakana and kanji.

“So where are you?”

Sparkling shops of wedding gowns in front of dull pavements glazed with ice - an elegant silk for a dress razing my guts, a crow burrowing a steeple, posts lighting one by one - 

Wither our promise?

“Never stop,” my footsteps tell me.

“Just don’t  stop…”

Shadows start to peep, night burns the afternoon, sinuous wind blowing from the ground,

I run -

My socks seem just so heavy.

I run; I run - for the next ride -

My heart has, yet, to catch on the subway.

/rosevoc on iwrotefiction.jan 20.2013

The Black Nazarene Listened

The Black Nazarene Listened

How did you die? They told us, you were holding the Holy Family, in the gasworks, until you slept peacefully.

In James Joyce "The Dead" I remember the death of Michael Furrey, who worked in the gasworks.

The gasworks and its toiled laborers are unsung heroes - young, daring and honest. They will light a candle for you.

If you were here now, you would be proud of me.
You would see how, you trained one little girl tug ducts of these brave eyes.
Your bloody shirt and the stain, folded with your empty wallet and your Hamilton watch were the last pieces of your relics.

I couldn't forget you were slain, like a lamb, in firing guns.
That bullet near your heart,
Is an earth of grief for me,
A mountain on my mothers back
Drought fields for the young brothers and sister.


In the rosaries of my nights, I lament - every shot when you crawled, and reached for an image of holiness -
And raised it up, like a martyr -
But it was complicated
For a tax man, like Matthew.

Lights at the funeral
A room full of flowers from rich friends
A parade to the cemetery with poor friends
Your pretty face in the coffin
Couldn't smile;
Your red lips were bruised
Your forehead was stitched
Your dislocated limbs
Palpable in your black coat.

You, a standing rock at 38 died.
And what we could do, is forgive -
May all the faithful departed rest in peace.

So "The Black Nazarene, " listened, Father,
And Jesus so close now - Yes, God bows down -
And takes care of the orphans. 

rose flores rosevoc2

How To Write A Poem Using Figurative Language

Using the figurative language adds human touch to words. While it makes prose more interesting, it sparks a lucid image in poetry.

A word is most effective when used with care. A polished poet uses the right denotation (dictionary or factual meaning) and connotation (figurative or suggestive meaning) of words.

The figurative language is woven by the poet from the stock of experiences, knowledge, and zeal she deals with everyday, in and out of her world. Through the senses, she relates words with pleasure so the readers could feel, hear, see, smell and taste.

Way back in high school, my English teacher (Miss Jose) asked, "What's a cloud like?"

"It is like a cotton ball," I answered. Until now, that scene is vivid to me dealing with similes and metaphors.

See this example.

A simile is a comparison with the use of as or like.

That is: A cloud is like a cotton ball. It is soft as a cotton ball. It is white as a cotton ball.

A metaphor is an implied comparison without as or like.

That is: A cloud is a cotton ball. It is soft and white.

Among others, other symbolic devices are personification, metonymy, hyperbole, and allusion. It will depend how you would interpret your words and make them alive.

Here is my own poem, as an example.

I Will Write In Your Heart

I will whisper in your ear, all your heart yearns to hear.
I will write in your heart, all your mind wants to remember.
I will weave in your body, all you dream about love.

I did the poem using implied metaphors.

Literally, the ear is for hearing. The word whisper is appropriate for soft cuddling with a lover. The heart literally, can't hear sounds, but it does feel unspoken words. When you love someone, you feel the beloved in your heart. Here is acceptance.

I will etch. I will write in your heart, literally, is bloody. Blood is a sacred pact. It comes with a covenant. The mind is very intelligent; hence, people are specially created by God for his Kingdom. The heart is over mind here, only to offer what is most beautiful for the beloved. The mind will be programmed to remember the beautiful things because of that sacred love. An endless love like that of the Sacred Heart, roots from God's words all over time.

I will weave in your body, all you dream about love. How do you weave? You intertwine threads. You lace colors. You merge juices.

My friend asked me, "How would you do that?"

I answered, "By kneeling... "

Also, I got mixed feelings in this poem. I used "synesthesia" as a device (in Greek, it means perceiving together). When I had this poem, it just came out quickly like press, zoom, and send!

Be

An illusory of the night,


I come to you, somehow bizarre

Mysterious, not with fangs, nor claws

But steadfast arms and folded knees.

Words and letters, a sucker for

In recesses embed; so lean -

In thy heart I live, expire -

That love would stay, with you I lie.

Apart from scripts, I can't exist

Apart from rage, I wilt, desist.



Apart from you, will not persist

Apart from you, without the mist.

Read me, light me, bend me, now!

Deeply fire me, fierce as how -

You would an arrow to a

Hymen. Gently as you would

To bombs, careful as to fragile wicks,

The ageless angel fleeting lips.

Minds of seas, rose blossom comes

Ascending moon, blue clouds on bed.



Tell me now, the Phallic Force

Tell me now, "die Wahlverwandschaften? "

Show me fire, air, water, earth

Breathed on the mirror of my

Coffin. Trace with your fingers

The shape of your mouth's kiss of

Cross and sacrifice. Tell me

About love. Show me heaven,

As lovely as eternity,

And loneliness when you sleep alone.



How strong, your thighs I hold so close

And tinder eyes of God aglow

"Mortal, guilty, but to me -

The entirely beautiful! (Auden) "

Awake the fields, the core of earth

Let blood be poured! Love must be!

So don't delay or tides flow now

First blood in front the Immaculate -

It is finished. I am with you,

Carpe diem! Close to me, be.
 
 
/rosevoc2.july262012