Mending schisms

The wall is back at it again

And with it the climbing.

There is something amiss,

you can almost breathe it in.

The painful naïveté of a broken trust.

My hand wipes the dust,

of a forgotten promise

and ghosts of the past walk inside again

shaking the very foundation of the world.

The little space of a million light years

Between you and me.

 

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Dear poet @Prochnost :
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A pleasure to read your work, I liked it very much.
This melancholy that fades to the extreme, light years away and being so close, so close
You can make me feel the depth of your words...only with sincerity and simplicity
Thank you very much for sharing your art
I congratulate you ☘
.
PS. It's so adorable that word in French, right there, in the middle of everything

 

Dear Prochnost,
so all in all, I must take my poetic hat off for you as well...because, as I read your poem many ideas cruised along the way with me, and right into the end of that little space you mentioned in your poem...you left me staring into an unknown or something else before my eyes, thoughts I guess, perhaps the beers or the communion with poetry that we all make….

Well, that’s just it..I don’t really have much of a vocabulary as a critic,
however, what you read my simple heart made it happen..

Greetings
Fidel Guerra.

 

Dear Miss Grace,
I’m serendipitously glad you enjoyed the poem. Forgive my vanity for relishing on the thought that you somehow identified with it, it’s quite fulfilling. All the things that make you tingle or, perhaps unbeknownst to you, feel deeply should be treasured because they are certainly the briefest. A life is fleeting, a feeling is a chance of learning but a love, if properly cultivated, it’s evergreen. Thank for stopping by. How can I find your writings if I may ask? I would love to read them.
Maybe the Selene shine upon you tonight,
Matt.

 

Dear Fidel,
I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, beers are well known for expanding the soul and if such soul happens to be a poetic one, then pray the wonders never stop coming.
Be my harshest critic, or simply a reader, the thought of passing by and taking the time to endear with my humble words is more than enough. Hope you are having a great night again, it’s almost Friday and the body knows.
All the best,
M.

 

Ya borracho me da por cantar... I have no idea of what the heck I just read.
maybe I am loded ... cause I can't even say your name bro
But cheers anyway.. no need to explain... one day I will figure it out,
welcome to little house in the prairie. jeje

 

Hahhaha, puedes llamarme Matt para no complicarte con Prochnost. If the beer got you into Wonderland perhaps my poem can be understood only by the insane, which is to say, according to insanity, the most sane of them all.
The little house on the prairie, that’s quite a throwback, according to them malaria was caused by eating watermelon, perhaps that’s my poem to you, a watermelon that doesn’t make sense because it brought malaria out of nowhere.
Stay safe,
M.

 

ok, Matt? insane.. thats me.. some times.. and what I meant about little house is this... MP

 

Sometimes its best to dust it off and keep going...
A beautiful poem that certainly touches the soul, Matt a pleasure reading you this early morning Friday
greetings from the Lone State of Texas

 

There cannot be much space between two when trust is betrayed, the pain of memories once again raises a wall between two. A pleasure to read you, poet Mat, kind regards.
Azalea.

 

Pleasure was all mine for having you here. Thank you for stopping by Guadalupe.
Kind regards,
Matt.

 

Sweet Azalea,
Love is also forgiveness, and once you achieve that you can find peace and see hope born anew. Thank you kindly for stopping by to read my poem. All the best,
Matt.

 

once upon a time, in a land far, far away... jeje. (hehe)

 

There was a man fighting windmills in his humble stead. Barely such beast could walk,
Rocinante was its name.

 

You Know Aldonza too? Just like to my great, great, grand father... She broke my heart .

 

Her country was El Toboso
En un lugar de La Mancha.
Hairs of gold, fairness snow and
Beauty superhuman.

 

She reincarnated in a beautiful gypsy from the Vasco Region that worked her way here to MP
right into my eyes and I... well... just say it wasn't a happy ending

 

Sometimes when two can’t be one,
Then it’s not meant to be.
And the sign and moral Of this
Is that you have now another opportunity
To find your better half.

 

right... except that I ain't no body's best.. if anything I might even be the worst... hehe.. (jeje)
you probably think I'm crazy.

 

Nobody is an island and you aren’t definitely alone. There is someone in this huge world that is meant for you, you just gotta go find her, wherever she might be. Change the way you think and you will change the world around you.

 

I was just pulling your leg man... I have fun interacting with the poets of this site.
nice talking. te invito un café.