Poetry

by Xavier F.Aguilar

Days of October

The skies appear so very blue,
Not the blue that paints hearts
When tears fall and goodbyes are present,
Not that saddened blue.

The Autumn color
Is as your blue eyes,
Lavish pools of warmth and expression,
Mirrors of my longings.

And your laughter too,
It permeates my romantic soul
Like the wind rushing
Through fields of gold corn.

These days are treasures of quality
Forever apparent to you
And consistent with my being
As the pumpkin smiles and the crow caw.

© 2005 by Xavier F. Aguilar

The Dark Overlord

The tubeflash presents
Black helicopters above
Printread depicts
Racial push and shove
Alien confrontation
Scar the susceptible brain
Skies of human pollution
Spew mechanical rain . . .

Unsure of reality
Hocus Pocus for the mass
Galactic brotherhood
A united world class
The tongue copping a plea
Conspiracy and deception
Violence, hate, disease
Hosts of the reception

. . . cocaine baby cries
Net enhances the lie
Manipulative education
Extraterrestrials in the sky
Miracles abound
Images appear of the divine
Clones seek the dream
It's all a place of time

© 2005 by Xavier F. Aguilar

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My Life As Art

If the moon was
really gold
and the sky
true blue
I would die
to live forever
and always
be with you

I would sail
upon the cloud,
I would gently impress
your heart
and express my truth
aloud;
my life would be
as art

I would write your
smiling face
and the sounds of
your voice
inert of time and
finite space
my pen would exceedingly
rejoice

But this is only
silly magic
from a poet's point
of view
too soon we all
conceive the tragic
like the sun's burning
on morning's dew.

© 2005 by Xavier F. Aguilar

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The Christmas Dream

On Christmas Eve
In winds of force
She tossed twelve sage leaves
From her trotting horse

She envisioned a young lover
By yule log burning
As the stallion did shudder
To subdue her yearning

Mistletoe over doorway
Too the Evergreen tree
An allegorical vision array
Stockings hung and he

Apple orchards and fields of corn
Steed snorting and breath seen
The festival of a child been born
The vapor dissipates like a Christmas dream

Sweet cider downed
To fruit trees and cows a toast
Scattered bon-fires amid the ground
Wassailing the meaningful host

A flickering candle at the distance
Aesthetically centered on the sill
Icicles reminiscent of lost romance
He discerned at snow covered hill

Meadow lands still under blanket of night
She sits up tall with a smile
A silent horseman as a beam of light
And she holds her breath for a while

Eyes tear from the wintry cold
The light is blurred of which she's seen
Festive songs are sung as of old
While snow begins to fall in a Christmas dream

© 2005 by Xavier F. Aguilar

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Into The Valley

Down twisting roads;
like descending
into a viper's stomach.
Always looking ahead,
seeking the destination
where they wait for you
with blood stained teeth,
with malicious chatter.
The ride is quick.
A possession of sorts.

Falling through a maze
of broken dreams,
shattered hope.
Searching for the light.
Embracing esoteric words
while they seduce
with vain simile,
with unnatural gesture.
The descent is charming.
A possession of sorts.


© 2006 Xavier F. Aguilar

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A Practiced Movement

You screamed your goodbye
as the door slammed shut,
as you cut all ties
to what was before,
to me.

An hour passed or two,
when I looked out the window
to see snow;
new and unmarred
as if you never were.

The white sheets so proper,
exhaling bedroom antiseptic.
I inspire to live
in spite of
that which eluded my presence.

No remnant to see,
no wisp of being.
A flight so well;
uncommon and valiant.
A perfection of practice.


© 2006 Xavier F. Aguilar

To read more poetry, go to:
www.poetry.com (search for Aguilar, Xavier)
www.wordrunner.com/chapbook/authors/aguilar.htm

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