Month: June 2011

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Beauty

                                She only saw blue veins worming through
                                liver spotted hands, joints knarled as
                                aged tree branches turning this way,
                                that way, unable to grasp unless with
                                pain that penetrated deep into sadness

                                We saw a heart overflowing with love,
                                heard laughter pealing like sacred bells
                                high in a church tower and knew a young
                                woman walked alongside her straight and
                                tall apart from her bent leg and cane

                               She thought if only time would slow and
                               beauty isn’t only skin deep because I
                               feel the years all the way through and I
                               really commiserate with the Ugly Duckling
                               longing to be that beautiful Swan

                               We thought how beautiful she is especially
                               when she smiles making us warm inside amid
                               gloomy days always sunny causing us to think
                               how wonderful to age with such grace and to
                               cause others to feel as beautiful as she

                               © June 2011 Renee Espriu

In memory of my grandmother, who no matter what, was young always. 

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Whispers

Life beckons perpetrating innocence
unaware of unknown substances
coursing through veins imitating
blood in the guise of ink, of lead,
breathing life into that emptiness
now flowing as meaningful a a
river swift, unrelenting as the
heart pounding in her chest,
giving rise to words of beauty,
some profound, all with passion as
poured out onto paper with artistry
becoming life and all
else is but whispers in
the wind

                                        © June 2011 Renee Espriu

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Bittersweet

photo courtesy of http://www.beautifulfreepictures.com

Penultimate visions of time
swirling as particles of
sand through an hourglass
capturing but unable to
hold youth’s victory over
age as the pendulum swings
keeping years in motion
forever capturing the sweet
smell of a rose’s passion a
memories bittersweet gift
while the petals wither to
vanish and die forgotten

                                    © June 2011 Renee Espriu

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Until I’m Gone


Doorway framed
observing,
wondering about a
lifetime of
patterns
his snoring, her
gentle breathing
shaped like
spoons facing
each other
lying unmoving,
imagining if in
dreaming each
one tells the
other the one
feeling left
unsaid, to please
hold me until
I’m gone

© June 2011 Renee Espriu

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Musical Notes

Music  shimmering
piano key notes
settling amongst clouds
ephemeral fantasy

                                          © June 2011 Renee Espriu

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Recuerdos

Strands of hair as silver threads
shining dimly in the light as
hazel eyes peruse photographs of
children, grandchildren, those
great-grandchildren looking
back with smiles frozen, another
time, other places in the past

Mi padre recuerdos en la luz del dia

Strands of hair as silver threads
shining soft as silk on ears of
corn her eyes treasured memories
held in photographs, giving back
years stolen in hands frail aged
with spots, he sees framed the
importance, a families life shared

Mi padre recuerdos en la luz del dia

© June 2011 Renee Espriu

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Hidden Meaning

Weaving a tapestry, words
hidden dimly as in various
hued amber pieces softly lit
traversing night scenes a
spector to all and to none
entering realms destined,
forbidden in the light

Laced within patterns of
meaning softly woven as a
cocoon holding a brilliant
treasure illuminated colors
phantasmagorical prisms as
sun shining splendid to
those whose eyes embrace

© June 2011 Renee Espriu

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The Package

                                              Matters not how the package
                                              arrived or how it was planted,
                                              amongst ramshackled cardboard
                                              walls or on linen sheets of a
                                              mansion, hope is within us

                                              Product of poverty, strife the
                                              result of rape and revulsion,
                                              bred of wealth and luxury but
                                              laced with perjury, existence
                                              loveless, hope is within us

                                              Matters not how the package
                                              arrived or how it was planted
                                              for leaders of others or those
                                              who build dreams from abundance
                                              all because hope is within us

                                              © June 2011 Renee Espriu

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Wisdom

                                                                                            Inspecting each tiny flower
                                         Columbine, Dandelions,
                                         Sweet William, Gladiolas
                                         clasping delicate stems
                                         sniffing the fragrance,
                                         eyes closed, concentration
                                         everything, wise at three

                                        © June 2011 Renee Espriu

This bit of prose is due to the inspiration of my grandson, Kade, who at three is at times much wiser than his grandmother.  I love you, Kade.Â