Archive

Posts Tagged ‘Akashma poetry’

Winter warm


By Marivel Guzman

There was a time, when I wondered in the timeless silence of solitude, when my books and my pen were my companions, my life was dull, bored and sad,

I was alone,

There was a time, when I flew in all the directions without compass, where the winds of the East were stronger than the West, I wanted to come back, but there was no place to call home, I felt alone,

I was lost.

There was a time, when meaning lost its true sense, where living was a painfull task, eating was no choice, writing was my secret refuge and sleeping my escape, but even in my dreams I felt lost,  

I was exhausted.

There was a time,
When the air was hard to breath, my chest refused to expand, my eyelids weighted a ton, and my heart was cold as ice, living seemed to waste my time, to exhausted to be tired,

I was sad

There was a time,
When spring lost its colors, the birds chirped no more, the swelling buds collapsed, the seeds refused to germinate, my garden lost its essence with no birds or butterflies to feed,

I was dying

Time kept running out of my timeline, my space become confined, and it felt small to breath or move, but with courage, I stretched my might, and survived the loneliness of my sleepless nights.

I’m living again

I stepped out from the edge of death, and saw a world full of life, I amazed myself with wonders, I saw  mountains blooming with majestic colors, I waved goodbyes to birds migrating North and South, my garden is again a eden to the bees, the insects and the butterflies, I breath deep and calm, refreshing cool air awakes my conscience to receive a welcoming Winter warm.

I’m fresh like a morning Rose, my heart is joyful once more, it reminds me with its loyal beats, that I was never lonely, lost or sad, it was always there for me, to comfort me with its warming pumps. But Winter warm it’s my companion, light that shines my journey, it’s an anchor to keep me straight, to keep me dreaming for more tomorrows to come, and a paradise and refugee in case I need to escape.

Marivel Guzman is writer from the cyber world, a lady of strong commitments and devotion whose heart burns for those who are distressed and are in pain. She is a fighter on moral grounds, her convictions and truth are her only weapons. Guzman is a freelance journalist, a blogger, and a poet. (Photo:self portray by Marivel Guzman)

June 06, 2022 by Marivel Guzman

The Mist


The Mist

I feel myself as part of the air, the water, the mountain, the tree, the earth, the fire and the mist.

The abstract sensation of not being in a solid state but ether—that is, a ‘something’ that exists everywhere like the Akash that surrounds us all in a phrase, “From above so is bellow”.

This is a reflection of my altered essence that feels like being everywhere; touched but touching, admired but admiring, but also a transparent and diluted substance molded by the strokes of pain that follows everything I touch, everything that I dream.

But, there is also a feeling of being part of the ‘nowhere’, where you don’t see me, but you feel me; like the air. You feel me through my emotions, passions and pains. Everything that transpire from my essence is me. It’s my soul ‘talking’.

But at the end, I’m the mist of my conquered ideals. I have to surrender to justice and equality, and as the mist, I’ll disappear with white and black tones of grainy rebellion. My soul is boiling with tremores of love for humanity, for earth, for truth, justice and peace.

I must dissipate! ❤️

E271F96C-BF4C-42E0-ADB4-8733A743618D

By Marivel Guzman

March 12, 2018

The Word – Akashma Poetry


Published on: May 23, 2010, at 09:13

THE WORD

by Marivel Guzman

First was the Word!
That Master Creator,
The original thought,

The Artist, the Craftsman
The Voices… The Inside!
The Inner creator!

The Word! It’s the source;
Of all inspirations,
The Word is creation?
The Word is the Source!

The Magic sculptor of thoughts,

and Ideas!

The craft maker of poems,
The inventor of thoughts

The source that you feel;
We all call it Love…
The magical power
That we all have inside,

The spiritual force that uplifts us…
And keep us from falling…
Invisible!
But strong as an oak

The Word is spirit!

A ghost?

The Word is the magical scepter
That guide us and feed us,
spiritual force, invincible!
Indivisible, God!. It’s The Word!

Marivel R Guzman © 2010

By: Marivel Guzman

Akashma Poetry

Marivel Guzman is an American poet and fiction writer.
(photo and graphics by Marivel Guzman)

%d bloggers like this: