Maria Magdalena Biela
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Maria Magdalena Biela Poems
The Empty Room
I stood silently watching the room it was my last time there.
Written On The Wind
Written on the wind Written on the wind the words came one day, shivering, and tired, and confused.
The Wedding Photo
They stood there smiling in black and white holding their fingers tender and tight. They knew the secrets of a past tense heart they knew of a future 'till death do us part'.
I Kid You Not
My eyes tell always: 'I shan't! ' when people want the hunters' hunt, yet, in their hunt I have been caught, I kid you not.
Dot The I
It is your birthday. I wish you well. In my humble soul you will always dwell. I dried my memories, I answered my ”why” With my silence I dot the i.
I Thee Wed
She wasn't taller than her doll-house. She was still writing to Santa Claus. Dark curly hair and wide open eyes she piously kneeled piercing the skies.
The Actor And The Savages
I saw the scene full of flowers and I saw the Actor choking, drowned in petals, leaves, which entered his mouth, nostrils, ears, covering him until nothing was left of him. Poor Actor. What a death! Smothered by the flowers of the audience who loved him, who came young and old together to see him, to applaud him, to shout his name, to show their love and admiration for his talent, for the beauty of his art, for the gift he had been bestowed upon to give life to words. The crowd had come with good intentions, with admirable intentions; the public came with huge bouquets of flowers, live intense flowers, fragrant flowers destined to celebrate the art, the artist, the Actor. The audience had come to hear him, the Actor, to drink his words and memorize them, learn them by heart, to be transmitted to their children and their children's children as a priceless heritage.
I'll bake tonight a rounded cake to celebrate the wish I make I'll lit my candles with the Moon and let them glow in nightly gloom.
Weep No More, My Willow Tree!
Weep no more, my Willow Tree! Fill by tears the ruffled Sea. Shiver not, hold your breath still. An it harm none, do as ye will.
She's dressed in black with white high heels, A mini dress her leg reveals, She fakes some tears with mini skills, She hides her face and what she feels.
Garden Of War
The pain in their eyes, still fresh, bleeding. I know their sleepless nights,
Her eyes were shivering a tear while the old year was shot she softly sighed 'Happy New Year! ' And dried the tearful thought.
Tonight I'll drink, I'll drink tonight to the New Year, to the new "might", to those who crushed my dreams and flight, to all my hopes that suffered blight.
From Now Until It's Now Again
From Now Until It's Now Again I'd like to be a drop of rain,
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Empty Room
I stood silently watching the room
it was my last time there.
My eyes in sadness mirrored the gloom
that was too hard to bear.
With heavy heart I swallowed my tears
while I was held and kissed.
I knew that after all those years
I'll miss and I'll be missed.
An empty room was quizzing me:
'How much do you remember? '
I saw myself through memory
until this last November.
How many children did I raise?
How many minds I've lightened?
I was a teacher all my days
and I was never...