Showing all posts by dorianna
My Little Man

I wrote this poem a few weeks after my son was born, it has taken me many years to edit. Though it is not my greatest writing work it is without a doubt my greatest work of heart.

 

Mute


 

Self-Knowledge Is Sublime

poetry reveals the truths
the center of your being
illumination and the dark
duality none else is seeing

oft-times you’ll discover
reading your own words
an aspect of yourself
you never ever heard

through your poetry
gain the freedom inclined
whether honest or deceitful
desirable or shunned
self-knowledge is sublime

©dorianna

On The Strings Of A Heart

how is it possible
one day to love someone
enlivened with just one thought, one kiss, one moment
as if you’ve soured to the heavens
drifting on wings of angels

tomorrow arrives
effervescent beauty of yesterday’s love
metamorphic agony of today’s heartache
a tornadic storm
whipping emotions erupt
drastic climate changes annihilating
all that is tender

one wonders where does the beauty go
when love turns to hate

bemused by the fate of heartbreak
anguished by the storm
adrift on winds of inner turmoil
should one conclude
love and hate ~ same emotion
calming, sensual breeze
becomes a violet windstorm
nature takes it course
on the strings of a heart

©Dorianna 2015
All rights reserved

Aged Eyes

as an ancient book
leather-bound
embellished in gold
aged eyes chronicle
truth and wisdom
do you peer deeply
can you read their story

©dorianna 2014
all rights reserved

Voice of Love

No Regrets

Agony is a Dancer

the dancer performs
spins through the air
erotic gestures
a flirtatious flair
sensual inflammation
a luring elicitation
a provocative snare drum beats pounding rhythm
to erotic bumps and grinds
pole gyrations
around she winds
hidden from the crowd
her agonizing tears
internal pain that whines shards of desolation
illusion on the dance floor
esurient menfolk
hunger for an encore
waving dollars with a dare
agony counts the minutes
dancer screams ‘no more’

©dorianna 2015

The Pearl

Haunting Guilt

her image wanders the alleys of his mind
her memory lingers in a silent scream

when the moon is blue her vision haunts
a tormenting retribution to his soul

he calls out her name in anguish
there is no answer she is gone

he cries out remorse too late 
her ears no longer hears his apology

only her haunting memory remains 
no one to give absolution to his guilt

©dorianna 2014

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