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Emer Capate Poem
Labor-painted lines on your hands
Heat- bleached your shiny strands
Mud added deeper color to your brand
Your adornments are dusts of the ground.
Skin piled up that made your hands rough.
Covered them and made them thick and tough.
Nail had grown to give a better grasp
To whatever you aim to feel and touch.
Wrinkled palms yet I still long its caress.
Soothe the cracks that this soul hardly bears.
Holds my head up when I’m bowing with fears.
Pulling me through the darkness of my twenty one years.
Yet when the poisonous blood entered its veins,
The strength and might were all been eaten.
Creating a space of life and death in between
And made your laborious hands weak and trembling.
Copyright © Emer Capate | Year Posted 2014
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Emer Capate Poem
03-01-07
03-04-07
A BROKEN GLASS
How many years I’ve shook-off,
Grabbed from that deceiving time.
To gave birth while walking to the scaffold,
Something I’ve ever dreamed to be mine.
Carry it under my clothes,
To give no space to that ruinous ruse.
Embrace it by my hands, hiding it beneath that glassy froth,
Caring not to taint an impending breakage, I can’t live from that loss
I have gone through many executions,
Yet I am still standing here.
Always weary in death but never in resurrection,
Living, for my grasp on it is sharper than any spear.
Yet an eclipse can’t be evaded by any moon,
Although light still prevails.
Darkness out grown its twin in doom,
And even the gleam inside to float had failed.
Endeavors of mine are no worth at all.
To that thing I have cared for.
It’s just when I dropped it and free its soul.
Brought by this ruling gloom and shattered light scattered on the floor.
Could anyone rebuild the breakage?
Connect those tattered parts?
Who could replenish the crater on the pledge?
Who would first lay down his cards?
Though it’s too hard,
Though it’s too tough.
Though I was hurt,
Still I need to need to laugh.
A laugh that hides my grief.
A smile that hides my pains.
A scar that was painted to a leaf,
A tear that bore through that flame.
Flame in the heart of that glass,
For centuries I’ve kept it untouched.
Still its breakage had struck it in a rush,
And turned that brilliant thing to pieces of worthless dust.
Who knows after a blanket of days,
Shattered glass would do it itself?
With no one’s grace,
Taken neither from a god nor from an elf.
by: ELC
Copyright © Emer Capate | Year Posted 2014
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Emer Capate Poem
LIKE AN EMPTY CUP
Like an empty cup,
Swallows everything.
Whether a dirty teardrop,
Or a blissful feeling.
Like an empty cup,
Open to everything.
It doesn’t stop,
Patiently waiting.
Like an empty cup,
Stores everything.
From faded scraps,
To colorful endings.
Like an empty cup,
Limitations for everything.
Excess flows from the top,
Once filled, no space for anything.
Copyright © Emer Capate | Year Posted 2014
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Emer Capate Poem
Each has its own clean blank papers
Others have with them the thickest
Some only have few, but who cares?
Even others got the finest
Each one was given the same pen
Each one with the same instructions
“No definite time to begin
Make a masterpiece of your own”
Others are slow and too careful
Maybe they don’t have a spare sheet.
Others are ruthless and playful
Because they've plenty on their seats
Beggars made the most of their time.
Proud of what came out of imagination
And everyone was in the line
With their artworks for submission
Yet their piece was the only unaccepted
Their hopes begun to tatter
Despite of all it was still rejected
And treated like a scratch paper
BY ELC
Copyright © Emer Capate | Year Posted 2014
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