X

•May 7, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Decay
They say
the cave
submerged

 

Depic
The tip:
a sip
of frustration

 

The chain
attached to my heart
so it won’t be adrift
is now keeping it
inside the
coffing
made
of

 

Stones

 

(Water rushes in and out
Poseidon’s breath of hidden sprout
Furious waves are all about
freedom
Lashing onto walls
of skin
and bones)

 

Aeolus shouts
The Olympus is against
all of my attempts

 

May the Ionian scale
save my soul
from this ironic veil
that takes hold

 

Mock on me, Athene
Indeed
for now
the battle is lost
but mark my words:
War is yet unfinished
Your victory is
by far
unsure

IX

•May 1, 2017 • Leave a Comment

I tend to see
tenderness
in the passing time
drifting by
Emotionally misunderstood
as the clock ticks
rushing through a moment
that was not supposed to end
by counting needs

 

Yet tenderness there may be
like the air not inhaled
by runout lungs
steadily available
in the passing breeze

VIII

•February 2, 2015 • 6 Comments

I follow. I obey.Johann-tetzel-1

I feel no regrets.

I look above and there is a saint.

(This one is supposed to make me prosper

and my piece of land grow wheat

only to grant me a place to live

inside a king’s realm)

 

My sorrow. My day.

I devoted it to pray

for a beloved one that has passed away

 

Happiness is just a matter of placing compliance

above self-esteem.

I’ve gotten used to the annoyance

of putting myself aside.

My wishes are tamed screams my

own hands press not to come out. Mouth

I use it to agree rather than deny

unless I’m told so

 

The coin hits the bottom of the money chest

My beloved one’s soul is free now

That’s what they say

I can’t see

but they know better

 

I follow. I obey.

Now I must go

and give the king his share of food for the day

Maybe I won’t starve for the night

and one more day will come

for me to live as free

as my deceiving (but convenient) mind says I do

 

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

VI

•April 21, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Grim Reaper 42

The same Grim that came to you

came to me this dreadful night

It came to kill me

but it didn’t take my life

With its ghostly finger

it touched my forehead

reminding me of you

 

I was just a boy

Better said, I still am

Seeing you lying in a bed

with your right side open

and exposed inners

was (is) really hard for me

I wish I could have only heard a word from you

that moment

but I know you could barely say anything

I wanted to say farewell

but, as I used to do,

I only said good night

 

My good bye came as the poem

I left in your coffin

But today the Grim that came to you

came to me this foggy night

(or is it just the tears I cry?)

I wish to die after the torture

It is putting me through

 

This is not a beautiful poem

of previously thought verses

It’s the result of the blood

coming out of the wounds

I thought were already healed

 

I miss you

I always will

That’s why I know

The Grim will eventually visit me

and hold in its hands my beating heart

removed from my chest

as my head aches

 

“Grim, before you kill me for today

Please, say ‘farewell’ to him

Tell him I’ve written some more things

in memory of him

And, please, understand

that asking you this

is like a begging request of mine

for dying once and for all

(this is the moment

excruciating pain

makes us say things

we thought would never come out

of our mouths

It’s the moment

We denounce our rebel companions

and undo all that we have fought for

by renouncing our principles)”

 

I wouldn’t do it, though

I am what you taught me to be

and that’s why I know

the Grim will come to me again

anytime soon in my life

and will finish me

just for another day

Farewell… for now

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

PS: I just found this poem I had written but I didn’t publish it for some reason I really don’t know. This is the original number “VI”. The previous poem number “VI” is now entitled “VII”.

VII

•April 18, 2013 • Leave a Comment

The cold touchVI
You are as far as the horizon
and as close as the emptiness
in me

Among the sheets and blankets
that together neatly compose our bed
we are the loneliest things
upon it

We lay facing away from each other
eventually touching when our backs
shove each other’s aside
In your political world
I’m just a gift
I’m just an object
Your bamboo staff
I’m supposed to be by your side
at the dinners you are invited to
at the speaches you give
at the laws you approve
at the dissimulation
in front of your lovers’ looks

I never wanted to be a queen
for my wantings are as far as the horizon
but tragically as close as the emptiness
in me

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

PEPPERED CHOCOLATE CAPPUCCINO

•August 8, 2012 • 4 Comments

Don’t ever thank me for loving you

It’s something I would do for a living

and something I would do for free

 

It’s as simple as that.

As simple as daily breakfast.

As simple as cappuccino poured at your cup

with the exquisite smell,

hidden,

of chocolate and pepper.

 

It’s the necessary strength

to keep me focused and aware

during labour

 

It’s the necessary warmth

to keep me away from the cold

of Life’s breath

 

It’s the arousal of senses

to keep me reminded of pleasures

that come at night

 

Don’t ever thank me for loving you

Don’t ever thank me for making love to you

Please, just taste of the cup I offer you

See the great contentment I have

on paying it for you

Because, truly,

the one thanking for somebody’s company here,

as a new day begins,

(it’s as simple as that)

that person is me.

 

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

PS: This is a little break I took from the new book project. This poem will probably be released in the book of poetry about the universe I have prepared and that will shortly be released. Next poem is likely to be a contribution to the ongoing project.

V

•January 4, 2012 • 12 Comments

Here! I found it.images

Now I can hide.

The beast coming

will never find me

in this dark cave.

I must now go deeper into it.

Humidity grows

and light is each step dimmer.

Frogs croak, wings fly above…

Darkness seems to play with my eyes

I try to rely on my other senses

It’s when my stomach remembers me

I still have to eat something for the day

My sight’s attempt to adapt to the dark

is as ineffective as a wolf

trying to prey on something by itself

I think I see a-void between the rocky walls

Was that the hemline of someone’s clothes

walking towards what seems to be

an endless, inner part of the cave?

I guess I might have heard steps,

although I did not give it to much of importance

when I only thought I heard it with the left ear

Maybe the noisy silence of this place

is also messing with my head…

I feel scared.

Who is this stranger that hides in there?

I cannot go back now.

It would be too risky.

The shadows are now my best companion,

but am I really safe as I’m surrounded by it?

I press my fingers

against the certainty of Godly-placed rocks

as I decide to go further.

From the ceiling there is a thin waterfall.

I hear the sound of it with my left ear…

but behind this waterfall there is this figure.

It’s a man the same age and height as me.

He contorts himself against the wall, terrified.

The look in his eyes is of complete horror.

I hear a high pitch sound with my right ear.

What the heck is it that is wrong with me?

His breathing is fast.

As I approach the waterfall, I see a reflex on it.

Its nails are huge

and fur covers its body.

There is bloodlust in its eyes

And rage in its clenched canines.

I try to run from it also moving away

into the veils of water falling

from above

only to be hit by a rock

the man was secretly holding.

It hits my left cheek.

I feel as if claws had sliced my right cheek, though.

I can’t dodge his ongoing attacks.

As the rock hits my head I grow dizzier and dizzier,

And feel like vomiting.

I have no more strength to say anything;

not even move…

The only sound I can produce

is a dying growl.

As life comes out of me,

my eyes finally adapt to the dark.

I realize there is only one person here.

Now it’s too late to try to solve

the trichotomy in me.

 

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro