Enslaved / Poems by Marcela Villar M

 Marcela Villar M

Poems by Marcela Villar M





The walls speak.

They seem to get closer

and closer,

as damned prisons where Poets

sing desolate songs deprived of voice.


Who cuts out the meter from their verses?

Who chains the freedom of verses that fly

from peaks that protect nests now empty?


Schizophrenic fears gather in the boulevards

of extinct minds,

meanwhile miserable dictators lock them up

in emaciated catacombs.

Their tortured bodies hang

from crosses with no kingdoms.

There is no resurrection in such agony,

Poetry dies without a Messiah.


Impossible anguish,

Lyrical poetry weeps.

Hypocritical muses dressed as Magdalena weep

while they hide behind red glass windows stained

with the holy blood of Poets.


Dark caverns

roar with millennial fire;

there is no peace in the mouth.

The books burn the hands

that touch secrets and mysteries,

metaphor is dressed as the bride,

white she goes up to an altar of sacrifice.

The chains of slavery lament;

mourn tears of hopelessness,

but Poets will never die.


Only freedom

will make them live.


© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2015

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