Tag: Poems

Guardian of Hope

From ancient whispers of the forest,
A tiny fairy comes to life.
A child of purity and magic,
A sign of innocent delight.

Behold! The guardian arises
And takes its place on rusty leaves,
Protecting all the living beings
From sharpened claws which warm breath seize.

Behold! The future of the forest—
Once under poisoned veils of dark—
Now has a gleaming light awaiting
On hopeful journeys to embark.

So, there is hope in dreadful moments!
So, there is magic here tonight!
The night of life has disappeared;
The morning sun sends warmth and light.

From ancient whispers of the forest,
A tiny fairy comes to life.
A mighty guardian arises
And ancient truths are beautified.

– Patricia

Intruder

The tiny seed had started growing
And, oh, was this such dauntless heart:
It day by day rose high, just knowing
What it would soon be: work of art.

Making a path of joy and wonder,
One day it pierced the mellow earth.
So pure—and yet—to some such cumber:
Wishing to have prevented birth.

Malicious whispers all around it,
Covetous glares governed the air,
As evil steps started to trample
The lightsome soul that life had borne.

Brought to the ground of ancient life forms,
It quivered as it drew its breath,
And countless thoughts and storm arose then,
And from the fog: the mask of death.

A day had lived the pure being,
A day with cruel, unyielding sky
And, as the sun of life descended,
The hint of life: now petrified…

– Patricia

Among Strangers

Frozen in place, too scared to move,
As blurry faces pass me by,
I fear the crowd and what they’ll do
If I would dare to feel alive.

I feel alone and incomplete
While waiting for a chance to live.
Tempting sensation in my feet
Gives me the strength to still believe.

A step out of the comfort zone
And I am free to be myself;
I venture in the great unknown,
Finding myself with every breath.

I am alone and yet I feel
That who I am is now enough;
I have myself, nothing to fear,
Still working on the final draft.

The smiling faces are now clear,
As I complete my work of art.
Now all my colours have appeared:
The world I paint with breathing heart.

– Patricia

The Train Station

The passengers all come and go,
The trains as well, that I do know.
Some make it to their goal on time
And others don’t at all, sometimes.

Some stand there still and petrified,
As years pass till they decide
What destination they will try
To get to – never asking why.

Some get on board at the last time,
Some come here early, at nighttime,
And some don’t want to leave the train,
As pleasant memories fade away.

Some journeys end before the stop—
Chaotic speed, fear and teardrops—
While some arrive on time, as planned,
With joyful hearts in their homeland.

The people come, the people go,
And all the trains that are do so,
Only the station stays in place,
Always the same—birth and death race.

– Patricia

Highlight Reel

Stormy skies await ahead,
Messengers of future doom.
I see trees which seem to bloom,
But they’re phantoms of the dead.

I can turn and walk away,
Leaving all of it behind,
Running, hiding: no delay,
But I don’t, with fearless mind.

Entering the vengeful lands,
Boiling droplets pierce my skin,
Yet I take the bravest steps
In the storm of truth and dream.

Battling howling, hateful winds,
Thunders booming from above,
Now the storm so endless feels,
Sending fiery, tainted doves.

Rage and fire I then meet,
Then a blizzard cold as ice;
All this fury I endure,
Knowing that it soon will pass.

Step by step, I see a sky
Of a hopeful, loving spring
And the grey I leave behind,
As my being is redeemed.

Many storms await ahead,
But I’m stronger breath by breath;
I’m alive, I’m not yet dead,
I’ll prevail until the end.

Dreams and truth I will unite,
Making life of what I feel;
I’m the master of my mind;
This is it: my highlight reel.

– Patricia

Dandelion Field

Dandelions paint the field,
All a sweet, translucent white.
Now they are a graceful shield,
Dreams protecting from decay.
Entering a sacred world,
Little like them I become,
In the wind my breath I hold,
On a fluff flying away,
Now with flowers I am one.

Freedom comes to me at last,
In my flight on gentle white,
Ending fears of future, past,
Liberty knowing up there,
Dandelions fly away.

– Patricia

Uphill

How come I’m empty yet again,
Although I have so much to say?
The stories that words can’t portray
I wrote so happily back then.

My hands are tied and yet I write,
My heart has stopped and yet I feel;
Now there is never-ending fright
And then the words and hope appear.

With raw emotions I create,
A conscious process of my mind,
Nothing aesthetic, cruel fate;
Pauses and silence—what I find.

I cannot reach the blissful skies,
Too far away from where I am;
The world down here I beautify
With my bare hands, with truth and pain.

I gather words with sweat and tears,
I work until I bare no more;
My art resembles ancient fears,
Deformed and flawed, it barely holds.

A Frankenstein of poetry,
That I create with monstruous touch;
Into the world I set it free,
A creature that I built from scratch.

And yet, perhaps it will become
A stepping stone for me to climb
And I will reach the amber skies
With every word that I can find.

From failure I rise once more
And find my peace above the clouds,
Where I have been so many times,
Where once again to be I’m bound.

– Patricia

The Traveller

He had been facing icy winds
For hours, just as time stood still;
He had survived the blizzard’s cuts
Thus far—and now he had no will. ǀ Fine

The sea of snow, a deadly white,
Seemed endless as he looked around;
The sky—unseen, covered in clouds,
The ground – below, not to be found.

The howling winds, the howling wolves:
Both enemies of life they were.
No way to go or to escape,
His future: still to guess—unknown.

Defeated, tired, he gave up
And laid back in the bed of cold.
Wanting to rest a little just,
He thought of what this would unfold.

He was aware that with closed eyes,
The sleep of death would surely come.
And yet sweet dreams would wait beyond
And no more pain—all would be gone.

His eyelids fluttered one last time,
As sleep began to lower them.
All would soon end, as death arrived,
And he could hear the requiem.

He smiled as he death embraced
And travelled to the world of dreams.
His heart stood still, engulfed in ice,
As snow covered his final fears.

As he stood still, time now began
To slowly pass, while winter stayed,
And snowflakes covered every trace
Creating, thus, his hidden grave.

Another came, wanting to face
White deserts and his sealed fate,
Adventuring in deadly lands
Until it soon would be too late.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Once Upon a Sky

Now this is the story of beings of wonder,
Of daughters of magic, of sons of the light.
The story of children who learned to grow fond of
True life and true laughter, which now they unite.

One night, when the shadows began to grow larger,
When valses of anger they started to dance,
The moon saw the evil which wanted to gather
And down sent her children to make a brave stand.

On bright rays of magic descended the daughters,
On bright veils of moonlight descended the sons,
Together defying the black vengeance waters
The evil had summoned, which covered the ground.

A battle of seconds, of light and of darkness,
A battle unheard of, of life and of death.
In silence, the children defeated the blackness
And only the moonlight—sweet, tender—was left.

On magic ascended the children of stardust,
As stars once more welcomed the beings of truth.
The sky once again was a welcoming canvas,
A story of wonder, of hope—unsubdued.

– Patricia

In a Valley

In a valley in the mountains
Lived a fairy from the Moon.
That’s where all the beings gathered,
Far away from dark and doom.

All she touched turned into wonder,
Magic fingers, joyful soul.
She was loved by sun and thunder,
Happy child adored by all.

Born from stardust kissed by magic,
She was hope to those she met
And her smile outshined the tragic
Moments, helping them forget.

Every day, she spread her laugher—
Music to the hearts of all.
She was their forever after,
Lifting them when they would fall.

In a valley in the mountains
Lived a precious, sacred child.
That’s where all the beings gathered,
Hope and happiness to find.

– Patricia