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Best Poems Written by Josefina Costales

Below are the all-time best Josefina Costales poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Something Regal

To catch a sunset cresting low over the sea
as the winds are blowing clouds above the waters 
while the waves unfurl and curl to shore so gently - 
something regal catches your breath and it falters.

Rising sun is burning the morning mist away 
flowers open to blossom in exquisite grace 
the world welcomes the warmth basking in it all day - 
something regal wraps the earth in tender embrace.

At night the darkness shrouds the heavens with silence 
a lost corner of paradise spewing stray dreams 
melancholy hovers disrupting violence 
something regal promises a dawn with sunbeams.

Mountains sit impassive, aloof, cold in winter.
Something is regal in icy whiteness weather.


Jjote 010821

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Love-Tide

Just a smile, a muffled snow-quiet one, 
deafening in its silence when hearts ache 
at parting, and dreams crash on barren shores -
the ebb and flow of love-tides cease to surge.

The sails of our ship were whiplashed by storms, 
still I held on to dignity unfazed,
a saving grace biding steadfast with me,
and I was not sucked into your abyss.

We played a circle game of loves and hates,
a love-tide maze infinite and daunting,
no sense chasing after dreams beyond reach.
We shrugged off cloaks of false sensuality.

Love’s intoxication have been heady,
but like tides in seas battled by tempests
we were carried away from safe anchor,
struggled futilely and not finding land.

Now our love-tides are soothing, finding calm,
conflicts resolved, forgotten, forgiven.
The future beckons - an alluring path
for us to explore. We have moved on.


@jjote 022521

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

How do we explore - - the depths of an abyss

In thickened woodlands there are hidden falls
noticed by few and you stop - nature calls,
you gaze rapt in wonder as waters flow
into the depths of caves no creatures go.

If you have wings, fly swift with the current
feel exhilaration with the torrent
but reaching the bottom of this chasm
you know this journey is no phantasm.

From on top, their depths seem like an abyss
but the mighty falls turn streams bathed in bliss
swirling lazily through thick banks of moss
where waters run deep in rivers to cross.

A final grand drama Nature now plays
rivers curtsy to the seas so we praise.



@jjote030824

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

How did I get here

(writing for the voice of my son who has terminal illness)

Reality is searingly intimate. But they say anguish,
woes and sadness are emotions best shared.
I am not saying I enjoy lamenting on them or heaping
tribulations on others if I can manage these on my own 
with grace, tranquility and acceptance.

Scouring out the dregs of my past is a notion
unlike exploring uncharted territory, but like pain,
I want to stare at it in the eye, no flinching.
Yet I ask, when did all go wrong; when did the roads
become forks and twists, and steep cliffs.
But I could then peer on tiptoes over the edge, unafraid
to take leaps of faith, always landing on my feet upright.
When did the moment of divergence start?


Life then made sense. Challenges I met with daring
and a tenacity to execute and perform to perfection.
There was relevance in chumming the waters,
cloaking them with the grace and finesse
that accompanies experience and excellence.
Work was not a drag - I thrived in the eye of storms.

Memories of the past are now more vivid than images of the present -
I sense that everything seems to pause in a single still moment.
Riding on motorcycles like the devil was on my tail,
leading my co-riders zigzagging on dangerous trails -
the idea of death was a vagrant who wanders another street.

How I wish time is fungible - what I would give to be where I was,
how I was, had been, always there, complete and fulfilled -
satisfying needs, goals, ambitions - been there, done that
is not my cliche.

My heart is a stuck sled in the middle of a sand dune.
Although I am in a world of stasis, expecting nothing,
I realize I have this clarity of thought and unclouded focus
to shed fear and panic as I stare death in the eye,
so I can leave this world on my own terms.

I want to dodge self-pity, dwell on the serenity of acceptance.
There is an ethereal glow in the night sky -
it should be an insanely beautiful vista out there beyond life.




@jjote031024

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Days of Our Lives

We spend our lives from solstice to solstice,

creatures caught in a trap hidden by darkness

stuck in a wheel of fortune spinning in no direction 

in its endless circles we lose our way.

Despair prevents our souls from healing

all through the solitude of night.

 

We spend our days like it’s forever night

concealing grief from solstice to solstice,

no hand reaches out in gracious healing.

Moonbeams try in vain to pierce the darkness,

 we stumble through a forest losing our way

Like hound dogs running in blind direction.

 

Heaven has closed all roads that lead to its direction,

so we slumber dreamless, awake through the night,

 hugging pain the comfort pillow life brings our way.

Our hurts multiply with each passing solstice,

our days strewn with muck and darkness

in stubborn silence we cast aside light’s healing.

 

Storms cannot quench earth’s thirst for healing,

Sounds of thunder and lightning beat in all direction.

We sink deeper in a crimson sea of darkness,

struggling under the waves all through the night. 

Rain pellets overshadow light in summer solstice

turning into rivulets of water to flood the way.

 

We stare in apathy at disasters that come our way,

they only aggravate our wounds beyond healing.

we bother not to survive in winter solstice,

as flotsam pieces of our lives scatter in no direction.

We lose our strength and surrender to the night,

under an ominous sky masking the eve of darkness.

 

We moan and beat the air in the invisible darkness,

feeling no urge to find our feet as we fall on our way.

All the world is foggy and detached as the night,

Ugliness abounds and searches not for healing

We lose step with life’s senseless direction.

while the stakes cut deeper from solstice to solstice.

 

Each coming solstice may usher more darkness

we need direction to guide us on our way

 bring healing to our hearts in the hollow of night.

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Lightning Storm

the birth

a partial breeze.

gentle wind teases air,

carries fine rain into my face –

as tears

 

Slowly,

sky curtain rises to unveil                   

the promise of a storm.

a hurricane

unfolds.

 

wind shakes

all elements.

nature’s manic drama

begins – thunder then lightning soaks

darkness.

 

Rooted

to my seat, I breathe my fill of

storm’s wrath.  Mere mortal peers

on the edge of

danger.

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Figure Skater

He glides 
his skates swishing 
in a flurry of ice, 
caressing with slow movements; mere 
foreplay. 

Silence 
compels the crowd 
disguises excitement
Great expectations fill the air.
All watch. 

He stops 
at center ring. 
Ice gladiator all set 
to make a kill gently, with grace. 
Grandly. 

Then flips. 
Perfect landing! 
He hears the crowd’s applause~ 
incense daring him show his skills. 
Dazzling.

Teasing 
with his body ~ 
a hypnotic magnet 
becoming a blur of colors. 
Blending. 

Music 
goes mad as he
circles with dizzy speed~ 
a human whirling, spinning top. 
Gidddy. 

Floating 
as in a dream 
one cannot get out of. 
Now he’s a leaf falling in slow 
motion. 

Still more 
he builds into 
a climactic finish~ 
a tornado that goes in a 
frenzy. 

He drops,
slips on his foot;
loses balance and dives 
his nose flat on the cold ice. All 
are stunned.

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Savannah and My Muse

I go in search of an elusive Muse.

Her flight has left my vessels cracked and dry.

Shafts of moonlight bathing o’er savannah,

radiates no mist of magic in my mind,

where once we danced in step with wildest drums

and from my pen out flowed the words with ease.

 

An artist on a trapeze I swing with ease,

I ride a flying carpet in the arms of my Muse,

conquering worlds to the battle echo of the drums.

Never did I dip my pen in ink all dry,

I lived a fancy dream world in my mind,

exotic fantasies in wild savannah.

 

The moon a giant pearl in my savannah,

with wind a soothing breeze, I slept with ease.

The warmth of night shadows reassured my mind,

vanquished my phantoms as I journeyed with my Muse

ever gracious, her gift jars never dry.

Words poured out unceasing from her drums.

 

But now I feel the silence of the drums,

menacing clouds float over savannah,

the grassy plains once green, now are dry.

A flock of birds have plucked my words with ease,

like leaves they gather to lay at the feet of the Muse.

I am a scarecrow left bare and empty of mind.

 

My pen drags, no words come out my mind,

the ghosts of dead poets beat the drums,

marching, losing rhythm, without my Muse.

I beg the wind to find her in savannah,

bring her back to me, my pain to ease,

to cease poetic juices from bleeding dry.

 

My riverbeds continue to run dry,

without my Muse, I know I’ve lost my mind,

I can’t afford to leave the Art with ease.

In mysterious chambers deaf to the drums

 I retire to salve my wounds in deep savannah,

and dream of waking up at the touch of my Muse.

 

I wait for my Muse, though she has left me dry,

In savannah I shall stay until my mind

hears the drums, again to write with ease.

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

A New Day

my grandson wakes up early, excited
on the first morning of our weekend trip.
look grandma, a boat, a bridge...
can I go out and wade in the water
run across the bridge, then ride on the boat? 
i'll be good, eat my cereal, drink my juice, please, please.
(not necessarily in that order, I thought. I'm not his mom
so thank goodness, it's not my decision to make. 
but his mom and dad are sleeping late, and grandma
is as excited as he, or never sleeps late anyway, 
life is getting shorter by the day, why waste it
when very soon, sleep will take forever)

so much activity my grandson is planning for his day,
I'm already exhausted, just thinking of it -
all I want is to soak in the quiet stillness 
this peaceful collage of muted hues 
the sky, wanting cloud and color, shark-grey, 
blue-white and haughty, all blurring together,
in the pale thin light of a new day -
empty, innocent - as yet unsullied -
a universe of somber mystery...

but he is just a child
it will be a lot of years more 
when such thoughts will creep into his mind
prefer silent moments than the boisterous
and in his innocence now, as yet unsullied,
I revel in the luxury of his universe.
-

Details | Josefina Costales Poem

Short Poems - Set 2

[- with 2-4-6-8-2 syllables in a stanza]

Calm sea
curves in white frill,
as gentle, lazy waves
dash against each other, playing
catch me.
---------------------------------------------
Scrawny
cats gather close.
A bevy of them meet
on the gravel sand discussing
conquests.
---------------------------------------------
I learned
to watch the sands
of shifting friendships sink
like tides that ebb and flow with wind
pushing
----------------------------------------------
Her voice
a cruel thrust
plunged deep into his mind.
cold shivers made a ladder of
his spine
-------------------------------------------------
Light spills
breaking shadows
weaves a patchwork of hues
painter’s dreamscape etched into his
palette
-----------------------------------------------
Mountains
with crests of snow
look somber and sleepy
as distant mists of dawn start to
creep slow
---------------------------------------------