love
as a word, as a metaphor
repainted, renovated, improved
mutated
into orchids, tears or air
love
unspoiled by illusion, unscarred by deception
with all the power conceded
and all the tags that dangle
on all the shapes it borrows
love
in its cradle
raw, naked, immaculate
unconceivable in its very core
and soaked in its very truth
still won't say
audio version
- To Whom it May Concern -
- Carolina Z
- Brasil, Germany
- Occasionally disoriented, infrequently beautiful, hopelessly romantic, prevalently overrated, normally misunderstood, mother of two and always searching.
Crowned With Laurels
10 comments:
You're right, I'm sure,
For it cannot speak its name,
A paradox for the tongue,
A bewildered blessing to be.
Fabulous Carolina.
Thank you so much!
in some ways it is a paradox ..and it's one we all seek.. for if you find it then hold on to it..because it only comes once in it's purest form
Excellent poetry, I love the style and content.
NathanKP - Inkweaver Review
Carolina,
Glad to see your back and writing away! I put a link to your blog on my page. Hope that you may return the favor. I figured if the poet's link blogs then we may all benefit from more readers. Keep up the great work.
LL
Crowned with Laurels
A Poet's Blog
Adorei esse, Carolina. E no inglês tem uma sonoridade única.
Andei por aqui
Beijos!
very nice! :)
Love it.
Acheiving the impossible by becoming even more delicious, the poem's conviction gently underlined, the emotional accents, exquisitely italicised by the breath - of the author's voice.
Tim... you make it sound so nice... no, you make it sound fantastic!
Are we still talking about the same voice here? :)
T h a n k y o u. . .
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