There are millions of stars
Those are just the ones we can see
But there are many more
Lost to time and the universe
Each one is a long-lost dream
Or a love which went missing
However, at one time, they shone brightly
But there is a single man A
A cartographer of the stars
He listens to ancient echoes
Tracing invisible constellations
Having his life’s mission ahead of him
He tries to preserve what time tried to erase
Something mankind doesn’t know it needs
© Poem – XV/VIII/MMXXV
LRET
He drew maps for a living.
Not of roads, but of promises
Soft lines where her laughter once lived,
tiny arrows
where her eyes used to point
when she couldn’t say stay.
She was the sea
Ever folding into herself,
a hymn of salt and leaving.
No harbor could hold her,
no anchor dared ask.
He traced her tides in silence,
built cartographies of could-have-beens,
and marked in inkless ink:
here be ghosts.
She tried, once,
to live on land
to breathe stillness,
to fold her waves into windows.
But the sea is not a creature
meant for ceilings.
So she left.
And the world kept spinning
in the wrong direction.
In some other verse,
some bend of time,
she learns to stay.
He forgets to wait.
But the ending,
like gravity,
refuses to rewrite itself.
Every love story
has a map.
Theirs had no destination.
Only a compass
that spun
and spun
and spun.
--
April 2024
M-ysterious
A-spect
Y-ields
G-reat
U-nknown,
M-using
A-bstract
R-ealm's
O-utline
©bfa053025
Monocrostic (Birthday of May L. Gumaro)
Words flow like liquid starlight,
Spilling from quill to parchment,
Each letter is a paper boat
Sailing on a river of ink.
Thoughts, fragile vessels,
Laden with whispers and dreams,
Navigate the currents of time,
Seeking a distant shore.
Pages rustle like autumn leaves,
Their edges kissed by candlelight,
As emotions, once formless mist,
Crystallise into tangible script.
The reader unfolds each missive,
A cartographer of the heart,
Mapping the contours of love
With every carefully crafted line.
Their correspondence, a tapestry,
Woven with threads of longing,
Each sentence is a brushstroke
Painting souls in vivid hues.
Years pass, a relentless tide,
Yet these paper boats endure,
For love letters, once sealed,
Become time capsules of the heart.
And in the silence between words,
Where meaning transcends language,
Love echoes eternally,
An unspoken poem written in stars.
My mother was lying
When my father was wearing a military uniform
And went out before sunrise so no one could see him
My mom kept smiling for the length of his absence
So we didn’t see her choking back tears
And when we missed him
She told us
He is going to return the meaning to our map
We thought he was a cartographer
And when my father returned without an arm
She told us
He gave his arm to the homeland
And the homeland gave him a medal
We didn’t know the meaning of war until we grew up
That like plastic bottles
The tyrants had recycled our lives during their many war
Now I understand why my mom was lying
And why when my father returned from war
He didn’t recognize his face in the mirror
Galactic Traveler
Alone in time and space
Lost in eternal paths
And orbits that you trace
Cosmic cartographer
Through nothingness you turn
In hope some distant eye
Could faintly see you burn
Transiting the heavens
Resplendent angels' course
All of your life unknown
Viewed vividly in force
Eclipsing every eye
Lightning speed, sudden flash
Earth's extinction event
Reducing us to ash
8/26/2016
My soul hungers
It searches for satiation
Constantly craving convergence
Thirsting to thrive
My soul, the devourer of dimensions
Digesting the universe and filling the vacuum
An unrelenting engulfment of the unknown
Feeding on novas of knowledge
My soul creates
Tendrils trace out to terraform
Gestating galaxies
Shaping spatial surroundings
My soul, the cartographer of the cosmos
Sailing the solar winds
Navigating the nocturnal nebulas
Venturing through the void
My soul needs nourishment
My soul yearns for yours
Located where, is Heaven, on these maps?
Cleverly hidden in Epitaphs?
Perchance in Stars seen from afar-
Or buried with Captain Cook, perhaps?
We lie besweated together on our bed, our battlefield.
Where never and always victory and defeat are given or siezed.
Long years of exploration have not yielded up even tiny bits,
Of the complicated and beautiful continent of thy naked form.
The mountains of thy young and jutting breasts still rise in age,
Baby chewed and lovely, no stretchmarks mar their glad appeal.
Stretch marks nay, but service stripes on thy fleshly uniform.
I can only gaze and wonder where the shape of thy thighs will lead.
I chart still the swell of these velvet buttocks and the sharp valley there.
To draw a map of thee would charge a cartographer beyond man's ken.
This man knows not how ye change and dwell beside me and tease.
Perhaps the eyes of love see clearest for mine eyes see thee uncharted.
Lie besweated with me and glory in the joy of being each others gift.
Where this page wanders, I know not nor care, I wander with thee.
Parchment and pen and scribners tools I cast away to seek thy lips,
To kiss and find a new land to explore unknown and familiar to me.
Tell me thou lovest me and heaven be found and death doth not bring fear.
Hello pretty woman,
Might I say you look very beautiful in that dark black dress tonight?
Beautiful like the night in sight,
Beautiful like the celestial bodies that light my sky,
Beautiful like the sparkling water in sight.
Please pretty woman would you grant me your small, soft, loving hand again tonight?
Let me stop time,
And let’s dive in the water that grants us life,
Tonight you are mine,
In this lonely universe,
On this single planet,
In this single ocean,
With a single flame of passion that makes this night so right,
You are mine and I am yours tonight.
You face as precious as porcelain,
Your lips as soft as cotton,
Your skin as supple as the water that wraps around our bodies,
Your neck is my road to your treasures,
Like a cartographer I chart your mountains,
And proceed to your desert,
Your taste is as sweet as honey,
And your legs as smooth as the skin of an apple.
Alone like the sun we light tonight’s sky,
Please pretty woman do not leave me this time,
Let us stay in this moment forever until the end of time.
Whale-bone satchel hidden underneath
The husband comes in to take the sheath
From his wife,
To pull away the knife.
Support this cradled strap
Call the cartographer for a map
To chart the followed Path,
Taken before by Plath.
Hold the chest
For this test
Of love,
Of affection
From above,
This rejection
Holds still a toy
For a boy
And twirls
For a girl.