Author: dacapoalpoetry

My journey to finding myself began with music, continued with poetry and keeps going with these two blending harmoniously.

Rust

The empty shell is full of dust,
Nothing within to light it whole;
Its walls—once bright—are full of rust
And its downfall one can’t ignore.

No sign of art to give it life,
No treasure here to be revealed,
Just black and rust spread out inside,
The dreadful fate has now been sealed.

Or so it seems, as time flies by,
Leaving its trace on empty walls;
It paints with colours of a sky
Cursed by a thousand one black holes.

Degrading into pecks of dust,
The shell becomes one with the wind,
Flying away—a moment just,
A falling star thus mirroring.

– Patricia

Sea of Sand

Deserted world, deserted soul,
Silent despair covers me whole,
Mirages come and quickly leave,
There’s nothing left, my mind to feed.

I walk and walk on burning sand,
So dull, so lost—I’m simply bland.
My colours start to fade away,
Much to my cruel and pure dismay.

No oasis here, none to be seen,
No sight of calm or vivid green,
No wind to ease my burning thirst,
Only a cruel, consuming curse…

A sea of sand, a sea of death,
All full of tears and of regret.
Just blurry eyes and empty heart
And there’s no hope, no sign of art.

– Patricia

Nothingness

The drought is here, it has arrived,
No drop of water has survived.
The emptiness has settled in,
Erasing all that could have been.

No sign of life, of breathing words,
No music heard, no stunning chords,
No art to see and none to give,
Nothing unique, my soul to feed.

All that is left, a deathless pause
Lengthens the stillness which arose,
Piercing my ears—a silent scream
Perpetuated by the dream.

A dream of greatness: incomplete,
Replaced by sour, cruel defeat.
A dream of wonders, each one gone,
Leaving creation far behind.

Just a deserted, empty shell,
With no more magic to compel.
The words are gone—flew with the wind,
While signs of art began to shrink.

Deserted shell and empty mind,
Deserted soul and empty heart,
Mirages dance so gracefully…
Blink of an eye: reality.

– Patricia

Canvas

A sea of red lays far ahead,
I wonder what it is.
I’m curious and I’m prepared
To know its mysteries.

And I come closer to the sea,
A sea of vivid red.
Its sight erases misery,
Engulfs me in a trance.

A sea of poppies everywhere,
Each full of promises.
Freedom of mind they all declare,
And unknown liberties.

I don’t look back, I don’t regret,
I lay down among red.
The world around me I forget
And no more tears I shed.

I’m now aware of my own red
That’s pulsing in my veins.
The poppies and the blood are meant
To show me victories.

I rise above the ancient world,
All stained with sorrow, grey.
I paint with poppies, all so bold,
My art knows no decay.

– Patricia

Midnight Silence

I walk alone on empty streets,
Surreal stillness all around.
To silence everything is bound
And peaceful steps my shadow meets.

Their sound echoes through new-born thoughts
Creating rhythm in my mind.
And in that music, I unwind
And so the moment stays and goes…

Tall, warming streetlights show my path,
So still, so present—city stars.
And, in their light, I see my scars,
Yet I forget the pain, the wrath.

On empty streets I walk alone,
Loving the silence and myself.
Ethereal peace I’ve never felt
Spreads through my being: I’m reborn.

– Patricia

The Climb

The climb was dreadful, full of tears,
Exhausting, painful, rich in fears,
The mountain tall, the peak unseen,
And reaching it—too far a dream.

With dangers lurking all around,
From high above and on the ground,
The climb was grey and oh, so long,
An endless nightmare, vivid, strong.

With famished vultures seeking prey,
With struggles growing day by day,
With piercing rocks waiting below,
The climb was dangerous, unknown.

The cliffs were cold against the skin,
Shivering breaths flew with the wind,
The body—pressed against the stone,
So tightly, hurting every bone.

Adversity in every way,
Each hopeful breath wanting to claim,
And yet the climb is now complete,
With bleeding hands and trembling feet.

The peak is silent, yet it speaks
And every enemy defeats.
The view is clear, the dream’s come true,
Now that the mountain’s been subdued.

– Patricia