#eprobles

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ORDERED DEGREE OF CHAOS

AND one hand clapping against the shuttered storm cellar doors is never a reason to deny ability:

like mushroom clouds as falling tears splatting fragments of dusted minds – by parched perched gills of neon fossils; the signs are here, there, and within the ? of    a hungry-starved dying youth/ /->the ordered degree of chaos!  By opened minds the wheels turn As curving fanning windmills churn;  Abrasions of mental collisions        As rough as life and art (aND smooth as death and data)

  as all atheist and scientist know who cares if the tree makes a sound when it dies  AND I say “hello” to

a black void but no reply, ergo:

AVOID.

:: 06-29-2017 ::

E.P.ROBLES (c) 2017

[eprobles]

MINSTREL WIND

In a glen where moonlight weaves its gentle spell, A fairy court in secret, where tales of love do swell. With wings of iridescence, they gather 'neath the trees, Loving fairies enchanted, dancing in the evening breeze.

Their laughter tinkles like a stream in sweet delight, As they weave a tapestry of dreams in the soft moonlight. A mortal man, a gentle soul, stumbles upon their glade, Captured by the magic, in love's enchantment laid.

Fairies with hearts so tender, wings of gossamer grace, Flutter 'round the mortal, a smile upon each face. They whisper words of wonder, weaving spells so sweet, As love blossoms in the moonlit glen, a dance of hearts complete.

He, a mortal dreamer, lost in their embrace, Entwined with fairy magic, a love so full of grace. The fairies' laughter mingles with his heartbeat's song, A serenade of enchantment that lasts the whole night long.

United in the moonlight, a tale of love unfolds, A human man embraced by fairies, their story to be told. In the glen where dreams are spun, beneath the stars above, Loving fairies and a mortal man share a timeless love.

:: 02.01.2024 ::

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WITHIN EYES RAGING LOVE TONIGHT

I asked my love, in shadows deep, To stay with me, our promises to keep. Do not go dark, my heart implores, For in your light, my soul restores.

How gentle is love, like whispered sighs, A melody that beneath the moonlight lies. Yet anger creeps within our final breath, As we face the cold embrace of death.

How best women and men depart, In the dying light, a work of art. They rage against the encroaching night, A symphony of souls taking flight.

In the depth of darkness, they strive, Dying against the odds, determined to survive. My father, a beacon in the starry abyss, Guiding me through life's poignant bliss.

How we grieve in the silent night, Wondering about love, a celestial light. Blinding, yet tender, in its glorious might, An eternal flame burning bright.

The night, a canvas for our sorrows, Yet love persists, transcending tomorrows. In the quiet hours, we find solace deep, As memories of love in our hearts we keep.

:: 02.04.2024 ::

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A HUNDRED POEMS — 056-01

In a realm of FIRE 'midst ICE's embrace, An axe-plosion bursts in fervent grace. A whispering dove, with elegance, draws near, A silent messenger, tranquil and clear.

DEVIL's flames, a soul's sweet kiss, A thunderous passion, a celestial bliss. High sky ceiling traces our love's rope, In weakened hands, the Nile's reed, we grope.

Tossing waters, a vessel's ancient reed, A lonely soul drifting, in realms decreed. Betwixt heaven's bodies and Earth's domain, A sacred journey through joy and pain.

What Kings witness, mortals discern, Angels adore, and the devil does yearn. Yet my dove soars, above it all, Eagle-eyed purity, a divine call.

A hush from Creation, a scene to unfold, Pure light emanates, a tale to be told. In my Soul's style, this verse I weave, A cosmic dance, where spirits grieve.

:: 11.20.2023 ::

[eprobles]

THE PUZZLE OF THE BUFFALO

In this dream,

I wander through a tunnel 'tween the streets, The air as thick as all my misconceptions. The gutters are gone, but fear still competes, And passing lights bring brilliant orbs' deceptions.

Across a cache of weapons, I now tread, My feet among the others in the den Of wolves who seek to know my soul instead, And ask, "Who are you, dream walker?" Amen.

"Are you crazy?" one asks with scornful tone, But I reply, "For reasons yet unknown." "Kill him," says one with shifty eyes a-glow, But I ask why, and hear, "He's just a pig, though."

"No," I say, and then, "Do buffalos roam Within my head?" Yes, I answer alone.

"Let him go," says one with a softer voice, And so they do, and I say with rejoice,

"I love you all, and please learn from this dream: If you just follow orders, life won't gleam. So live a brilliant life, not one too tame, Or soon the buffalos will trample your game."

And as I wake from this dream full of grace, I know that living boldly is my place.

:: 03.04.2023 ::

Analysis: The poem "The Puzzle of the Buffalo" is a compelling and engaging piece that takes the reader on a journey through a dream-like state. The language used in the poem is descriptive and helps to create vivid images in the reader's mind. The poem also explores themes of self-discovery, bravery, and the dangers of conformity.