Poem By Sirlanio Jorge Dias Gomes

From the window of my soul I see the sky,
I see birds flying and I think,
There is the image of my desire,
Freedom in my last speech.
The brightness of my eyes illuminates me,
And the heart becomes a storm,
Pouring rivers in my face.
My feet have become roots,
As deep as my pain,
Sentry of my angry body,
Trapped by this taciturn life;
So dark in her nightmares.
I walk by turning the pages,
Like the sea bouncing off the waves,
That comes and goes,
And it's never the same.
I see and no longer understand,
But I live the days,
Bleeding now, now healing
From sneaky spells,
In the patchwork of time.

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Poetry Is...

Poetry is...
The deepest perception of self,
Bridges of emotions building verses,
Doors that open to infinity,


A little of everything,
In the details of me,
Translation of thoughts,
This whirlwind of arrows,

Sem Fronteiras

Corpos fustigados,
Em suas cores assombrados,
Multilados em suas dores,
Em discursos abstratos,