Maree Scarlett Poems

Poeta y poeta

Este minuto, este momento, cada momento en el que te escribo
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My muse speaks to me,
in alluring tones dressed
in a cloak made of Nights'
firmament, sky of subaqueous midnight
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Las pequeñas flores amarillas
han cerrado sus pétalos en oración
en vísperas de que el sol ponga
sus velas hacia el horizonte del oeste
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You have not truly been to hell.
If you had been, you would not glorify it.
There is no glory in hell.
You write poems glorifying -
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Esta noche, las cortinas no están totalmente corridas.
Una luna pálida obscurece los cielos y las ventanas están abiertas.
Mis cortinas cuelgan levemente abiertas, de color naranja
Se llaman Jubilosa y Usada.
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Tonight, the curtains are not fully drawn.
A watery moon obscures skies and the windows are open.
My curtains hang loosely open, orange coloured
they are named Jubilant and Worn.
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she was wild in her raging heart
raging against the dying of the light and
welcoming the moon whose half light she hid in.

I saw fate's face in a tree, taller than the others
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Testimony

A
testimonial was written in letters
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Arrival in Heaven
- for Edith

The beach seems to be eternal,
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Every echo
in your voice
dresses in white.
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