Words

Words create pictures,
set deep in my mind,
Colors turn intense,
as I paint my rhymes.
Once they begin,
they keep going non-stop,
sometimes carrying tones
that feel very sharp.

Sharp paintings that dance
inside of my head,
linking every word
sewn with a clear thread.
All prior nonsense
somehow feel so real,
delivering a message
made up of pure steel.

Steel that becomes stainless
like a pretty view,
finished smooth and shiny,
still feeling confused.
Embarked in a passage,
with no start or an end,
instead, it expands
and seems to extend.

Extending quite far
reaching, no time or space,
combining designs,
touching, a state of grace.
Embracing large portraits
show up in great sums,
composing my thoughts,
as I silently hum.

– Grace Y. Estevez


Potential

What is a song that goes unheard,
or poem if it has no words?
An echoed sound

that has no end,
a profound thought
,
stuck in a pen.

What is a frame without the art,
or actor with no spoken part?
A cage secured

on every side,
a gig to take
,
with hidden lines.

What is a film with no debut,
biography without your view?
A way to be deemed

as aloof,
a way to read
,
another’s truth.

What is a life without a twist,
or opportunity you missed?
A day relived

with no enhance,
a lesson shown
,
so take a chance.

– Grace Y. Estevez

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