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PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos)Offline

    • April 5th, Ghostships Drift Through the Mind

      On the 5th,
      the myth of the ghostships returns
      adrift,
      unhurried,
      moving with the slow authority
      of things that have forgotten
      what it means to have a destination.

      They glide across the inner horizon,
      full of voids and echoes
      from the beginnings of time,
      carrying the dust of ancient…Read More

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      2 Comments
      • Pretty cool poem, PAR. As I read, I felt some of the verses had the feel of a Pablo Neruda texture. April 5th is here and the poetry is honestly flowing. -Curt

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      NAVINA posted in the group National Poetry Month

      THE STORM’S EYES

      Tornado you seek
      The darkness
      I feel weak ..
      The skies in complete blackness
      Your power I’ll see all week.

      Clouds move like spilled ink
      On a grey canvas
      That I left to streak
      Brushing with slugs
      As an artist, you can’t peek.

      My art smears as the storm claims
      Bold dark colors
      Watch how it fades
      I’m happy…Read More

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    • almost

      I was gonna jump
      but I needed someone to watch
      so I waited
      and while waitin
      the moment passed
      and I forgot why I climbed
      so I came back down
      quieter than I went up

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    • The Tenth Muse Speaks: Whispers Across Lesbos

      She walks on the edge of the wind,
      voice braided with sea and olive,
      each syllable a spark struck
      from the tinder of longing.

      Island-born, where the waves fold
      like a lover’s arm,
      she counts the pulses of hearts
      as though each beat were a star.

      You burn me
      my limbs betray m…Read More

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      2 Comments
      • Curly Grace, what a great opening line: “She walks on the edge of the wind”. While I enjoyed reading the entirety of your poem, that last verse will be remembered by me. Poets, poetry, should never be “contained” or constrained. -Curt

        • Thank you, Curt. That means a lot. I’m glad those lines stayed with you. And I agree… poetry needs room to breathe.

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