mifael llauderes

One can count the stones
But not the ripples…the
Echoes of ones conduct
...

..a beauty smothered
While it’s trying to breathe
Somehow do through
The pores of the
...

Even The rain

Is fair and
...

Reaching far for
The topmost branch
A delicate hand labors
For the fruit of her want
...

...

A stalk produces a dripping sap
When freshly cut
And it does not when healed
Much like a poet
...

I am a feather
Light as the air
I will rest
On open palm…still and calm
...

An old man boils his
Soup, he’s no other source of
Warmth…but his own arms
...

Firm are my feet
On My ground
While you
Take wing
...

We do seek
Some times
The empty
...

Rainclouds, come…
The beast is toiling
The roots of grasses
Have grown tough because of drought
...

Tackling on a slippery trail
Up on a high steeping hill
The trunks and twigs
And jutting roots
...

Gripping knuckles against knuckles
Gnashing the teeth against teeth
Heaving breast to stretch a temper
Groaning hoarse to ease release
...

there was once
a fainting hope,
behold, it shines anew!
before it flickered off she came
...

The silence grows into
A subtle emptiness
A blowing wind
Through and through
...

Seeping promptly on the ground
Spilt, I watch it disappear
Does it, as it sinks like water,
Gather more when it is deeper
...

With hunger comes a somber head,
Thus weakened by the lack of bread;
The filament of will is thinned,
The crop is filled with empty wind;
...

Moon over the bay
By the sparkling calm I sit
Drinking my sorrow
...

Chirping
On a lamppost,
A bird appears lost
In the midst of
...

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