Ellie belfiglio

When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write…



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Springing through fated infinity!

Fool’s fearlessly rush to and fro…

How could youth have escaped my embrace?

Did I protest or simply let go?

At what point in our lifetime’s continuum,

Did my reactions and stride start to slow?

Are you blinded by faith to these changes,

Or, too ashamed to admit all you know?

Is it affection that brightens your smile-

Whenever I enter the room?

Or is it sight also failing,

Validation of impending doom?

Despite all the signs oaf advancing age,

The simple fact shines quite clear.

My passion for you, to this day feel brand-new;

As I feel youth has escaped my embrace!

I shall love you forever my dear!! …

do-drops-desire-wpress1The Unpredictable  

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Of Love and the Rains

Please read and enjoy this great post of a talented writer.

Poems in a Coffer

The rains once again
are here to remind
how fervently I loved you
with every bit of my might
falling from the vertex
of boundless soars
touching upon the depths
unbridled and unfathomed
sometimes like a drizzle
soothing and divine
and sometimes like a deluge
ravaging and unconfined
from silent and serene
to loud as a roar
from quiet and calm
to intense like a clamor
I fell on the trees
on the glass and the stones
on the earth and concrete
into the sea and the shores
sometimes I seeped in
through the pores of your skin
and sometimes I slipped
down your edges, slants and slopes.

– Chhaya

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Words flow like a river undamned.

Damned just the same am I not for-

Trying to stop them from-

Striking you down and-

Pulling you under…

Words cut like a razor;

And I sit and watch them.

Cut you open and-

Make you bleed tears,

And angry words.

Words freeze like ice in my throat.

And I try to think of something to-

To warm them and take back old words.

But before I get the chance to change,

You turn and walk away!! …

charcoal-drawings-4The unpredictable

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Huddling in the long shadow of winter,

Roots tied to the dark soil.

The magnolia tree now sends a glow into-

The cold whiteness.

Its tiny purple buds candles,

Celebrating spring’s birthday.

Huddling into the long shadow of winter,

Rooted in the soil of self-doubt,

I, too, send a glow into the cold whiteness.

Tiny candles of hope celebrating my rebirth…

Soon our blossoms will be shimmering,

In summer’s incandescent.

Its meaning clear for all to see,

In the deepest despair there can yet-

Be a glow of hope!! …

canleThe Unpredictable 

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