When words were superfluous..

When words were superfluous..

It was that kind of moment when words were superfluous 
Unwinding at a long day's end, quietly reading
Not once distracted by mass noises of restless children
You were at one with your disposition, completely transcendent
I couldn't help myself, but watch you...
And Like sudden ripples from a winter breeze
I quickly grasped a man's simplicity
Yes, words were just superfluous
You simply moved me..

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 05/03/13

When I go back (still editing)

When I go back (still editing)

April 30, 2013 at 12:21pm

It's been a while, hasn't it
Like dusty books on high shelves
Long forgotten, becoming discouraged
Asleep, Patiently awaiting my return
I haven't the strength, not yet at least..
On days of solitude, perhaps
Like ghost towns, a whisper would linger
along the emptiness of what use to be
O' what it is every time I remember..
This day is but new in spring
Birds sing like a church bound choir
and the breeze is the heavens kiss
promises of it's place in existence..

I guess it has been a while, hasn't it
Reminiscing, opening doors so hard to close
Like raging rivers, crashing waves
flood like memories, how they exhaust me..
To go back, if I go back, when I go back
could it awaken a restless beast
A hunger of unknown depths
wildly embracing a tasteful past
but promises of bitter sweet goodbyes..

Although temptation fiercely burns
like fire of forbidden passion,
no stone, have I left unturned
There are no regrets to follow, to stir
It's been a while, it's true
So to reminisce wouldn't be so bad
Forgetting not of who I was or use to be
But gallantly reminding myself
of where I am and all I've become
O' to the journey..

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 04/30/13

Without You

Without You 

I'm a rose without its petals
For they seemed to have withered away
like today without tomorrow
or shades of color without its gray
I'm the grass that is not green
I'm the sky that is not blue
I'm a lie without the false
I'm a fact without the truth
I'm a rose without its petals
Yes, I slowly wither too
I'm today without tomorrow
and empty without you..

Rose Petals...

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 03-20-13

To The Silent Artist..

To The Silent Artist..

How do you draw your women?
Do you draw them with the finest lines?
Do they become disfigured,
To save you troubled times?
With no eyes, they couldn't see,
Your heart, for it's forbidden.
With no lips, they can not kiss upon,
Your soul that remains hidden.
With no ears, they couldn't hear,
All the things that are so clear.
Without hands, they couldn't hold you,
To embrace all that you fear.
How do you draw your women?
You may draw me as you please.
Draw me how you want me,
To put your mind at ease.
But, draw me with my figure,
So my curves you can coress.
Draw every part you crave of me,
Every Part you love the best.
And.. If by chance it is needed,
To erase me from the picture...
I will easily be forgotten,
Being a women that came disfigured...

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 03-19-13

On my sleeve

On my sleeve

It is all right here, plainly visible

There are no hidden agendas, no secrets

No uproar moments of mysterious surprises

It is all visible, comprehendable

All that is needed is of acceptance

Do not let your vision be blurred by experience,

nor gain understanding from your own perception.

There are no scars that haven't healed,

No past wounds that salt could still sting.

Every reminisce of a bitter sweet goodbye, forgiven

All I am is right here..

Should you be blind, could you?

Clearity would be your new vision.

My voice utters peace and forgiveness.

Every old flame, old ''friend'', every enemy,

a sheer memory of what I use to be.

All that I am is here, plainly visible..

Let me bare my scars from my chest,

I do not detest what it all has been.

Not the many sleepless nights I faced,

the countless lies told, there were many.

Nor the pain onced believed to be endless,

no regrets, for every scar a surprised blessing.

Opening doors to something new, perhaps me.

Preparing me, molding me into something better

Now all that I am is right here..

Who I am, All I am, I give freely

There are no skeletons to expose.

Shameless to my past mistakes,

Only being perfect in imperfection.

Simply humbled by the chance to change,

We all need changing.. 

I am renewed to this world unknown

no longer frazzled in untrust and fear

Rather, armed in optimism and faith

All that I am is here, I am exposed..

Still baring the scars on my chest

While wearing my heart on my sleeve.

I am truly at peace...

Written by Flor De Maria

Posted on 03-17-13

-The Art of Breathing-

-The Art of Breathing- 

There is something to be said when one is left breathless 
Moments that leave one drowning in questions, but no answers
You grasp to gain a sense of some understanding,
but still you lay breathless...

There are chances to be given, There are risks to be taken
There are hearts to be broken and regrets to be spoken,
but still in these moments we can be left breathless....

It is not always the right of a path that make us,
but also those of the wrong ones that break us
Sometimes it is when we are at our lowest
that a picture is seen a bit clearer....

So.. Tonight, I will be reckless.. An artist made restless..
Within these moments that linger so careless,
May I discover the true art of breathing....

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 03-13-13

Spoken Glory

For so long, I have known no words.. I have spoke no thoughts..

To express myself has been on the side of impossible.

Like a child first learning to walk, first learning to speak.

Scrimmaging through words, unsure of describing all I was feeling.

It hasn't been like Ol' days, When my tongue radicated speech for miles.

When imagination roared like a beast in a jungle, never failing to proceed its greatness.

Emotions were so easily expressed, easily written. Eloquence flowed like a river of poetic rhythm. 

O' how I've missed those days. 

Just as in winter when things die, when things in spring become new, I have been here reforming.

Slowly unwinding.. Awakening, perhaps. My thoughts no longer submerged. 

The fire, once again is burning and much beauty is manifesting. For my imagination is stirring.

And on my tongue lies the taste of all that was recoiled.. All that was suppressed..

An Ol' writer captivated in such passion to live again.. To speak again..

Rediscovering the art of existance.. of feeling.. Discovering myself once more.

For so long, I have known no words.. I have spoke no thoughts

To express myself slowly dissipated with every vision blurred, O' how it blurred.

But just as the evening subdued to the morning sun, my psychological inhibition subsided.

O' how It feels to once again have a voice, to speak words of lingered thinking.

O' how I've awaited for these moments of freedom.. These moments of spoken glory..

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 03-10-13