Emily Rae Robles

the paradoxymoron


I walk alone at night, with no one near
to calm my ever-rising agony,
to clasp my hand and whisper in my ear,
to softly take my dreams and set them free.
They say they understand, but no one knows
the panic that I feel when each breath comes,
the tightness in my chest that always grows
until I sink to earth, blind, deaf, and dumb.
I cry and cry, but tears remain unleashed.
I scream away the pain within my soul
afraid that it will stay and never cease,
unsatisfied until it takes its toll.
The monster in me scratches at my heart
and threatens, always, to tear me apart.


June 15, 2011 Posted by | poetry, writings | , , , | 2 Comments

Friday Favorite: WitWordThought

As I round out my first week’s blogging schedule, I’d like to introduce my first Friday Favorite blogger: Kaede from witwordthought.wordpress.com.  She writes movie and book reviews, fiction, and–my personal favorite–poetry.  Her poetry can be found here; I’d encourage everyone to check it out!  In case you want a sample, here is one of her poems entitled “The Wind:”

On top the wind, a soul appears
Its journey lengthy; the wind it blows
It sees the movement down below,
Chatter: the sound of life.
In a melancholy state, the soul moves past
Too painful, the memory of what was.
The wind blows,
The traveler keeps its course.
But whispers remain of that time,
Of that grass, of the crowd,
Of that pen in hand,
Of that day
The wind, this way it blows,
And as much as we would like it to subside, it doesn’t.
Those lustrous gusts from the west
Has our mind confused with dreams.
And so the day goes, we go.
And so the wind blows, we go.

February 25, 2011 Posted by | favorites, guest posts | , , | Leave a comment

Never Again

You walked through the door
the same way you walked out of my life,
scattering dreams along the sides of the walls you built up against me.
You smiled with the innocence of one who knows everything
and laughed with the sting of a thousand arrows.
Even in death, thorns line your pallid face
with rows of masked cruelty,
reminding me of the rose they once permitted me to smell.
Your folded hands cover the chest that still heaves hatred at me,
even in its frozen state.
I try to imagine your soul watching me from the heavens,
but all I feel is fear.

February 22, 2011 Posted by | poetry, writings | , , | Leave a comment