The Silver Orb

I stretched out my arm and grasped the beautiful new moon,
but it slipped through my fingers like sand from the dune.
Shooting stars appeared like flaming arrows in the sky
which left sparkling trails, as they passed by.

The silver orb became hidden by a huge passing cloud;
moments later its brightness was shouting out loud.
The cloud moved aside leaving the moon in all its glory,
oh, how beautiful it is, this observer of history.

poem by Orlando Belo
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A Thank You Prayer

Dear Lord I wish to say thank you for bringing me through this day
and thank you for making it possible for me to pray.
And thank you for giving me the strength to live each day through,
and thank you for being there so I can thank you.
I also want to say thank you for filling my heart with happiness
and for giving me the ability to feel sincerity and tenderness.
Thank you for making it possible for me to love
and thank you for being Lord God above.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Since I've Been Away

How could you change so much
in such a short while?
Your skin is whiter, your hair is lighter,
and you've lost your lovely smile.

What happened to you
while I was away?
Did a nasty shock
make you look this way?

You also seem much older,
and you've lost weight too.
At least your clothes fit better,
which they never used to do.

Are you as tired as you look,
your eyes look red and sore?
Your teeth are somehow different.
Is that blood upon the floor?

poem by Orlando Belo
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‘Petra’

That dog over there is called Petra,
she sits staring out of the window.
For a while now she’s been whining;
as though she’s filled with sorrow.

She’s probably waiting for her master,
because he often went out alone.
After two days she’s obediently waiting,
by the window of an empty home.

They say it’s six days since he left her
without a meal, a thought, or care,
but he never stepped out of the house,
he left her while he sat in the chair.

poem by Orlando Belo
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What's Left?

Outside is a grave yard of leaves,
the trees are skeletal and bare.
My heart is overflowing with sorrow
since the day you left without a care.

I live in a distressed house of memories,
which once echoed with love throughout,
but now it’s filled with echo’s of sadness
which has driven my happiness out.

The rooms have a thick carpet of misery
and the furnishings wreak with despair.
The curtains are depressed and shaded
and unhappiness festers in there.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Not Much To Read

I was sitting outside
in my back yard.
The wind was blowing
but not too hard.

A cloud was pushed aside
to let through the rays,
and I got a funny feeling
it was one of those days.

A blackbird flew down
onto a nearby chair
and looked me in the eye
without a worry or care.

I didn’t make a sound
and neither did it,
but it shook it’s head
as it’s body dipped.

[...] Read more

poem by Orlando Belo
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The Recollection of Dreams

Many people can’t recall
their dreams when they awake.
But I remember everything,
and this I used to hate.

As a child I was frightened
by my sleep fantasies,
and thought they were visions
of future realities.

When I became used to them
I took them for what they were.
A release for mental creativity
at a time of deep slumber.

I can also recall all my dreams,
and you may think this a curse,
but seeing nightmares when I’m awake,
is really so much worse.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Echoes of Sadness

Outside is a grave yard of leaves,
the trees are skeletal and bare.
My heart is overflowing with sorrow
since you left without a care.

I live in a distressed house of memories,
which once echoed with love throughout,
but now it’s filled with echoes of sadness
and like my happiness it’s moved out.

The rooms have a thick carpet of misery
and the furnishings wreak with despair.
The curtains are depressed and shaded
and unhappiness festers in there.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Goodbye Mr Crow

This morning I saw Mr Crow lying on the ground,
he was as dead as dead could be.
Yesterday he was hopping about eating worms,
and now the worms will be eating he.

Mrs Crow was looking down from a branch
of an enormous chestnut tree.
Yesterday she was by the side of Mr Crow,
she knew something was wrong with he.

She then flew down to the side of Mr Crow
and tried to wake him anxiously,
but rigor mortis had taken place,
which left her squawking frantically.

poem by Orlando Belo
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That’s Life

What do you honestly expect of me
after I was treated so outrageously?
You took my love then called me names
and used me for your selfish games.

And now you're trying to apologise,
with your silver tongue and ‘come on’ eyes.
You’re wasting my time and your breath,
so screw you, and your deceitfulness.

As far as I’m concerned you got your prize
by seducing me and telling lies,
but one day you’ll reap what you sow;
that’s how life’s is you know!

poem by Orlando Belo
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