...by Jim Bronyaur & Laura Ebohon
(final day of feature week!)
(Jim Bronyaur)
…do they come back?
Inked letters –
hacked to paper
what story do they carry… tell…
Does a softer ground mean more
- than a frozen one?
Is it a misty thought
(or spirit)
That comes…
A soft touch on the back of your neck
or the lost wandering up a cement drive…
I’m back. I’m here. I’m ready.
(Laura Ebohon)
Layers of tainted skin
like gathered fabric
pleated by time into ruffles of sin,
where guilt slowly infiltrated
subtle, endless needles
sewing yarn of sorrow and regrets...
Fragile conscience,
Blind to the spiritual nature
of forgiveness,
Holy gift of departing memories from pain
Looking for the guidance of divine power
holding on to the belief that beyond Life
on the other side of these walls of Time,
over the bridge of Death,
under these dark tunnels of crimes,
through the maze of convictions,
there are eternal flames of Love,
and the possibility of Salvation...
In an ethereal journey back to Life
running through green fields of peace
swimming in calm seas of wonder
passing by streets of celestial calm
where we talk without words
we see the invisible
we breath eternity
In the screaming light of Resurrection!
Showing posts with label Laura Ebohon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laura Ebohon. Show all posts
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Life...
...by Laura Ebohon
(part 3 of 5 of the feature week with Jim Bronyaur)
Growth of tissues
covered in a membrane of surreal events,
mother cell of multicellular layers
procreation of reflections,
vegetative production of wishes...
In that room
suspended between life and whispers,
surrounded by cell walls,
beating of hearts and pulsing of souls,
through the net of little holes of hope
thick thread-like organisms,
Breaths and a feverish search for happiness
anxiously determined by the conjectures of time
when pain strikes like poison
relentlessly,
locking doors,
relegating desires,
creating divisions.
Like a deep chasm between conscious being
and unconscious dreaming
connecting again
through the bridge of destiny,
eye lids shut
freezing images
in departments of never.
Coincidences
missed opportunities
and the strongest will
to see tomorrow's colorful rainbows
through rain drops of doubts
and whistling of winds...
Tilting against windmills!
(part 3 of 5 of the feature week with Jim Bronyaur)
Growth of tissues
covered in a membrane of surreal events,
mother cell of multicellular layers
procreation of reflections,
vegetative production of wishes...
In that room
suspended between life and whispers,
surrounded by cell walls,
beating of hearts and pulsing of souls,
through the net of little holes of hope
thick thread-like organisms,
Breaths and a feverish search for happiness
anxiously determined by the conjectures of time
when pain strikes like poison
relentlessly,
locking doors,
relegating desires,
creating divisions.
Like a deep chasm between conscious being
and unconscious dreaming
connecting again
through the bridge of destiny,
eye lids shut
freezing images
in departments of never.
Coincidences
missed opportunities
and the strongest will
to see tomorrow's colorful rainbows
through rain drops of doubts
and whistling of winds...
Tilting against windmills!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Death...
...by Laura Ebohon
(part 1 of 5 for the feature week)
Curtains drop shut on this stage,
without the anticipation of a closing scene,
no hints, no premonitions...
A simple termination of all biological functions,
no words, no gestures
definitive extinction of breaths and hopes,
destruction of plans
left to blow in the wind of never.
Looking from the other side of consciousness
through holes in the wall of time
everything seems so small...
light, paper thin...
Tears are dry,
hands are cold,
Unknown voices all around
whispering secrets
no wish, no desire,
no saviour, no sin...
Immense space of nothing
only flashbacks of padded images and colors
without memory
wandering through dreams and reality
It all seems so far away,
existence and essence
ideas and abstractions.
Trying to reach those fields of colors,
getting caught by a lightning,
finding you,
entering the walls of your heart
where death dies again
it dissolves in the endless spirals of your embrace.
(part 1 of 5 for the feature week)
Curtains drop shut on this stage,
without the anticipation of a closing scene,
no hints, no premonitions...
A simple termination of all biological functions,
no words, no gestures
definitive extinction of breaths and hopes,
destruction of plans
left to blow in the wind of never.
Looking from the other side of consciousness
through holes in the wall of time
everything seems so small...
light, paper thin...
Tears are dry,
hands are cold,
Unknown voices all around
whispering secrets
no wish, no desire,
no saviour, no sin...
Immense space of nothing
only flashbacks of padded images and colors
without memory
wandering through dreams and reality
It all seems so far away,
existence and essence
ideas and abstractions.
Trying to reach those fields of colors,
getting caught by a lightning,
finding you,
entering the walls of your heart
where death dies again
it dissolves in the endless spirals of your embrace.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Implosion
by
Jim Bronyaur / Laura Mercurio Ebohon
It was easy to fall
harder to realize it!
It all happened
at the center of those days
where time was a side matter
planning
strategic demolition
of these walls
brick by brick
layer by layer
a gravitational collapse
an implosion of senses
crashing stars in our sky
What is left now of all that noise?
broken pieces
without color
without texture
thin and fragile
like leaves in the autumn wind
they make no sound
floating restless
holding hope
of touching the ground
________
rusted rumble
chasing the time.
Each word –
another shot
another chip off a broken heart.
Stained glass eyes
distort the truth.
A one sided, endless cycle of love.
The love disguised for
Want.
Need.
Touch.
Taste. . .
The warm breath on your neck –
feels greater than the cold winter breeze.
The punch of reality.
The shadow that passes with the day.
A soft touch on your cheek –
feels greater than a bitter winter smack.
The punch of reality.
The shadow that passes with the day.
Can you catch your breath as if races from you?
Can you follow the sound of your own footsteps?
The door.
The entrance.
The life.
The words.
The heart.
The handle is so cold outside. . .
but inside. . .
inside is warm. . .
everything falls inside.
Jim Bronyaur / Laura Mercurio Ebohon
It was easy to fall
harder to realize it!
It all happened
at the center of those days
where time was a side matter
planning
strategic demolition
of these walls
brick by brick
layer by layer
a gravitational collapse
an implosion of senses
crashing stars in our sky
What is left now of all that noise?
broken pieces
without color
without texture
thin and fragile
like leaves in the autumn wind
they make no sound
floating restless
holding hope
of touching the ground
________
rusted rumble
chasing the time.
Each word –
another shot
another chip off a broken heart.
Stained glass eyes
distort the truth.
A one sided, endless cycle of love.
The love disguised for
Want.
Need.
Touch.
Taste. . .
The warm breath on your neck –
feels greater than the cold winter breeze.
The punch of reality.
The shadow that passes with the day.
A soft touch on your cheek –
feels greater than a bitter winter smack.
The punch of reality.
The shadow that passes with the day.
Can you catch your breath as if races from you?
Can you follow the sound of your own footsteps?
The door.
The entrance.
The life.
The words.
The heart.
The handle is so cold outside. . .
but inside. . .
inside is warm. . .
everything falls inside.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Explosion
by
Laura Mercurio Ebohon
It was a crash
sudden
unexpected collision
It sounded like thunder
it smelled like storm
it played like strong beats
It looked like shreds of flesh
drops of blood
floating rags
in the wind of unknown lands
blowing against far away skies
My earthly refuge was invaded
my heavenly home was attacked
my path was crossed
Then the explosion...
Red flames and yellow screams
grey clouds black smoke
Roads and buildings became dust
Like sand of deserts
running through my hands
Silence took over
Quiet like hope
Still like patience
white mantle
of the inevitable sound of never...
Laura Mercurio Ebohon
It was a crash
sudden
unexpected collision
It sounded like thunder
it smelled like storm
it played like strong beats
It looked like shreds of flesh
drops of blood
floating rags
in the wind of unknown lands
blowing against far away skies
My earthly refuge was invaded
my heavenly home was attacked
my path was crossed
Then the explosion...
Red flames and yellow screams
grey clouds black smoke
Roads and buildings became dust
Like sand of deserts
running through my hands
Silence took over
Quiet like hope
Still like patience
white mantle
of the inevitable sound of never...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Descend
by
Laura Mercurio Ebohon
Inclinations
curved words
falling down
on this white desert
like little drops of hope
taking shape in clouds of smoke
Slides
bending acts
extending downwards
laying on this black valley
landslides of events
sweeping life away
Avalanches
heart tremors
sliding down
the mountainside of our soul
precipitation of feelings
descending impacts
Laura Mercurio Ebohon
Inclinations
curved words
falling down
on this white desert
like little drops of hope
taking shape in clouds of smoke
Slides
bending acts
extending downwards
laying on this black valley
landslides of events
sweeping life away
Avalanches
heart tremors
sliding down
the mountainside of our soul
precipitation of feelings
descending impacts
Meet Laura Mercurio Ebohon!
“Writing (therapeutical ladder to the sky), reading, traveling, exploring, captivating images, observing the mysteries-miracles of life, attempting verses…”
My first poetry book: Italian – English poetry “Se guardo dentro – If I look inside” is out now
I feel the essence of my writing could be described as: ”sliding” into myself trying to find the “real me” keeping at the same time my eyes wide open on the world and its wonders.
I think this life is a passage through stormy and sunny places leading us to the light I have been searching since I was a little girl. I would like to learn more and share more through my verses.
I cannot really tell you the what or the how but I am sure that you will see in some of my verses the intricate maze of my journey and you will recognize the when and the why I felt my inner spiritual journey had to be explored even more to finally find the communion between mind, body and soul… Always looking for peace.
Find out more about Laura and her book of poetry here: http://iamlauramercurio.com/2010/06/03/se-guardo-dentro-if-i-look-inside/
My first poetry book: Italian – English poetry “Se guardo dentro – If I look inside” is out now
I feel the essence of my writing could be described as: ”sliding” into myself trying to find the “real me” keeping at the same time my eyes wide open on the world and its wonders.
I think this life is a passage through stormy and sunny places leading us to the light I have been searching since I was a little girl. I would like to learn more and share more through my verses.
I cannot really tell you the what or the how but I am sure that you will see in some of my verses the intricate maze of my journey and you will recognize the when and the why I felt my inner spiritual journey had to be explored even more to finally find the communion between mind, body and soul… Always looking for peace.
Find out more about Laura and her book of poetry here: http://iamlauramercurio.com/2010/06/03/se-guardo-dentro-if-i-look-inside/
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Steel
by
Laura Ebohon
I am steel
metallic matrix
strong alloy
solid solution
stainless. Water flows over
no sign left
only small drops
of fresh nothing
As I am made of steel
Flames can't burn me
I'm stainless cold
corrosion-resistant
rust will not consume
my protected veins of light
reflected on the shining surface
as I am steel
and so is my heart...
heavy solid barrier of chromium
Rust-proof
Pain-proof
Unassailable
But... a unique melting point...
Sensational status
Irreversible
Inevitable...
The elasticity of my bouncing soul...
Laura Ebohon
I am steel
metallic matrix
strong alloy
solid solution
stainless. Water flows over
no sign left
only small drops
of fresh nothing
As I am made of steel
Flames can't burn me
I'm stainless cold
corrosion-resistant
rust will not consume
my protected veins of light
reflected on the shining surface
as I am steel
and so is my heart...
heavy solid barrier of chromium
Rust-proof
Pain-proof
Unassailable
But... a unique melting point...
Sensational status
Irreversible
Inevitable...
The elasticity of my bouncing soul...
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