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Best Poems Written by Ernandes Fialo

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I Never Left You

I NEVER LEFT YOU

When youthful restless hearts hear defining calls
With volcanic strength they will respond
The impetus for adventure overrides
All rational thoughts, out of window they go
For youth knows no bounds of daring appeal

Twenty I was, when I heard the “buzz”,
With gusto and a lick of good sense I made the run
Carpe Diem was my exalted, exuberant cry
So I followed the path to places to me unknown
To her, I whispered with pain and sorrow
I must seek what the world to my lot bestowed
But be assured that one day for you I shall return 
Feeling liberated and not knowing why
Effusive and with feigned bravery I bid to all farewell
The beyond had the smell of fragrant thrills 
From America to America my journey began
Imbued with hope, dreams, and strong will
I began carving a new life, a new beginning 
Dreams, goals ,and desires within me abounded
To fail was never a contemplated option
For failure the young bravely defies

All those memories of a half century ago
Come back to me in flares and bursts of fading energies
Now that I am approaching the sunset of my days
Wondering wastefully how it might have been
Had I not pursued the Echo of that life changing call
That outcome will never to me be known
But oh! How I long and yearn for that love I bid farewell
My ashes will one day fertilize a seed above that green hill
From that seed a tree will grow into a refuge
To shelter, in hot, sunny or stormy days, living fragile things
Then I shall sleep eternally in tranquil peace
Knowing that I kept, though belated to her my promise 
And in serene harmony, proclaim, “I never left you my beloved Brazil”'.

Copyright © Ernandes Fialo | Year Posted 2015



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First Love

FIRST LOVE

Never speak of first love in the past tense
For the depth of a first love is eternal, ever present
To place it into the recession of our memories
Is to negate the essence of what is pure, beautiful...everlasting
Is to deny  the existence  of infinity........ It's like caging our feelings
Unlike the caged bird that wants nothing but the freedom of the sky
We become caged souls, cowards, timid beings  corrupted by conventionality
To speak of first love in the present tense is like liberating  our most sublime discovery
Let's give wings to our inner most sentiments..... and by this  act transform ourselves
…..And become whole before the dawn of the forever present.


Bella Vista, AR
April 2, 2016

Copyright © Ernandes Fialo | Year Posted 2016

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Earth Cry

EARTH CRY!

Above cotton clouds and blue skies
Self-absorbed looking through a window
An image began to form; strange I thought
For before my very eyes, there she was
Naked  upon the earth, her breasts, her hair
Her body mutilated laid upon the barren soil
Ashes, pain and despair were all around
What have they done? I asked
In a callous and unfeeling way
From far deep below a voice replied
From ashes green fields shall rise!

Copyright © Ernandes Fialo | Year Posted 2014

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Anonymous Travelers

ANONYMOUS TRAVELERS

The luminous Southern Cross, had a clear blue sky as a background 
to shine off its splendor majestically in that long ago night.  
The approaching morning was calm and the pleasing breeze would be shortly replaced by 
the tropical sun.........

The bus station was a large metallic structure unappealing to the eye,  
And on that early hour it looked too spacious for so few souls,  
By five it was transformed into a live, bustling place; people coming and going 
To where I don't know..........but there they were and their excitement was pure joy. 

Suddenly my eyes fell upon an old man, …. there he lay, his head resting upon his old filthy bag.
As I approached his space, he opened his eyes........
“Good Morning!” I said.
There was no reply.

He tried to sit up, but his frail and stiff body wouldn't allow
There he stayed  a little longer, against his will,
Lying still, on the hard wood bench
On the third try, he sit up, albeit with much difficulty.
  
There we stayed in silence but not indifferent.....
Surreptitiously measuring each other hidden intentions,
Then he looked at me and asked “How far is it to Açailandia?”
“More than 400 kilometers.” I said.
He mumbled some incomprehensible sounds.
The uncontrollable shaking ....and his efforts to hide it... pained my soul.
“Is Açailandia your home?” I asked.
I have no home, .....he looked down as he spoke..... 
He tried to add something to his reply, but deliberately withdrew........ 
I waited, ….....now anxiously to hear what he wanted to say.

His accent was dry,  like the arrid Sertão .......Setaneijo he was …...
My thoughts went back to his roots ….... racing to learn more about this intriguing stranger 
I formed a nebulous picture of his  life,
That forever bright blue sky had broken him down.....
Brutal was that enemy, the tormentor...a killer without a face 
I broke the silence of our thoughts....”What time is your bus leaving?”  I asked. 
I have no bus to catch, nowhere to go.......
But I'll get there somehow...
I must see my surviving son, if he allows my wish  to be fulfilled........ 
Then I w'll be on my journey to.......... 
Silence again …...deafening..... silence it was.... 
Impatiently, I asked “Journey to where?”.... To Hell, is all he said!
“Don't speak so desperately, Hell is for those without a soul. “ Said I.
That is why there I must go, I have been no good...........at all 
A villian, ..... a thief, a robber..... I betrayed all my friends 
And worse of all, I mistreated my wife and children …... 
Left them for good to never return; now, I must my dues pay. 
I deserve nothing, …...and I expect nothing. That is my story.

For the equivalent of a few dollars, I  bought him a ticket to his destination
My bus arrived and we bid farewell........
And so it goes,  a long............. long …..time ago, two travelers met at a cross road, 
One of them selfishly went on his way, knowing how much more he could have done...... 
His choice, made him feel for ever after a lesser being.



E. G. FIALHO
Shawnee, OK.
April 9, 2016

Copyright © Ernandes Fialo | Year Posted 2016

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Marina of 270 Days

MARINA OF 270 DAYS
So happy, young and beautiful she was
In her simple pale yellow wedding gown
There before the altar she stood 
Angelic and pure as the morning dew
In her shyness, obeisance and  humility
Serenity sensing a tempest anchored 
Here in the vast ocean of dreams 
Life in its infinite wisdom and betrayal
Chooses paths to us mortals unknown
Life within the sacred womb 
Waits for sublime light to shine
A call went out for a mid-wife to rise
Nature, mother of all living things
Indifferent to circumstances shed her tears 
Bathing blissful valleys, mountain and hills 
She must wait for the torrents to slow
For the crossing had wings of death waiting
But the flow predictably would cross allow
On the opposite shore hope and fear reside
Between pain, cry and fading hopes
The river of blood was slowly running dry
A last breath; of a mother and a child .

Copyright © Ernandes Fialo | Year Posted 2014



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Renaissance Unfulfilled

RENAISSANCE UNFULFILLED
Glorious! Glorious! Renaissance 
Brought humanity to new heights 
Of unbounded creative power,
Look  at Florence's splendor
Experience its Medici majesty
Inhale its inebriating beauty
Intoxicate  your very senses
With perfect, mastered imperfections 
Of tiles, towers and frescos,

There my sensibility awoke
To a  persistent, clamoring anomaly 
Amongst fashionable vain crowds,
Strolling with contemptuous disdain,
They pretend not to see,
Raw,unadulterated beauty,

There they stood numb,
Fugitives of negated dreams,
Breathing, Ebonic statues,
Perfect creation, muted, invisible,
Staring painfully at the horizon, 
Longing, no doubt, for
Sunsets of Africa skies.

E. G. Fialo

Copyright © Ernandes Fialo | Year Posted 2015


Book: Shattered Sighs