Saudade

Deep emotional nostalgia
is my sustenance,
melancholic longing,
the tune that sets me apart,

absent nouns creating an affair,
are those that rule my being,
and this is saudade,
taught to me by the Portuguese.

Described as "the love that remains"
after an existence is gone,
saudade, is my new relationship,
one that will not desert me.

Saudade is the one thing,
the one person, the one place,
that should be with me, at a particular time,
a particular moment,
in a particular way,
but, is missing;

and the absence is felt in suffering,
with agony,
with bittersweet memories,
with depression from missing;
save joyful gratitude, from the experience.

They say in Portuguese,
Tenho saudade do que fomos;
I feel longing of the way we were,

so it is my word of ever,
it is my word of body,
it is the substance,
of all my memories,

I have chosen,
saudade...



©, Dawn Michelle

Authors Note:

Contest Prompt "What is your favorite word"    saudade poems • portugal poems • love poems • longing poems • nostalgia poems

Silence

I still see you in my dreams,
feel the presence of your being,
the caress of your memory,
even so, you see me no more.

I thought this day not to come,
that souls should part, to touch not again,
but I see that it is true and I,
I have been a naïve fool.

Do you feel it, the essence I send,
it blows billowy between the curtains of your room,
in the pale moonlight,
the smell of salt and fishes abounding.

Yes, my dear, that is me,
I am in you still,
a deep saudade,
from a fado refrain,

for I am the one so true,
the words of the music,
setting at your feet,
with the wish of a touch,
that I may again return home.

But your visions are silent of me,
and I am stranded,
in agony of reprieve,

I sit alone,
asking that another journey in the night,
will take me home,
that I may travel with you once more.

Can you leave me here,
can you desert me,
is it nothing but a tale,

the wailing of the guitars
tells me its so,
and the panic of my tears
are now real.

I am nothing,
I land upon the sand of the shores
as barco negro,
returning empty from the sea,
lost to that which was never mine,

my heart buried, in the depths of thee...




Authors Note:

Missing Portugal...

Saudade:  (in Portuguese folk culture) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent: the theme of saudade in literature and music.

Fado: a Portuguese folk song typically of doleful or fatalistic character and usually accompanied on the guitar.


© Dawn Michelle   portugal poems • love poems • life poems • loss poems • friendship poems

Sacred Sister

When I was new,
she became my friend,
then I was called,
and her knowledge was lent.

I found I was sick,
she nursed me to health;
and when I broke down,
she returned me to stealth.

Once I was lost,
but she loved me patiently;
Then it became dark,
so she sent light faithfully.

And as I repented,
she stood by my side;
Happiness then came,
and we rejoiced by and by.

Grief discovered my heart,
so hers was heavy too;
she took hold of my hand,
and we cried rivers anew.

I needed encouragement then,
to keep going on,
she uplifted me high,
and life moved along.

Even so, I was afraid,
so she sat by my side;
and when I felt alone,
on my doorstep she would arrive.

My family was in great need,
she made them her own;
she clothed them and fed them,
and we were never alone.

But I wanted to shut down,
yet she held the door open;
her words, her love,
such beautiful emotion.

And though I felt like dying,
you know my life she saved;
she told me I had worth,
and helped me to pray.

Then finally I triumphed,
oh how she was, my biggest fan;
but I saw then she was in need,
so I quickly took her hand.

I clothed her and fed her
and brought light to her house;
she was my sister after all,
how could I not help.

I found then at times,
there were others in need;
I also found that sometimes
again it was me.

We serve each other valiantly,
so all can move in stride,
Zion our destination,
Jesus Christ at our side.

We are sisters in Zion,
we are Sisters in Christ,
sacred love our goal,
sacred service our life.....

**For My Sisters......

with love from Dixie <3 p="">

LDS visiting teaching prompt for women's conference Gilmer Texas Stake 2017  © Dawn Michelle    love • life • friendship • christ • spirit

Ai Mouraria

Aged breeze touched wisps of her hair
and she closed her eyes receiving its embrace.
Is it you, she asked, as it entwined itself in the crevice of her neck,
leaving a calling card from the finger tips of clouds.

Then she saw it, the memory of the night,
cradling her as a babe, loving her as the mother of song,
and she embraced its spell with a bitter sweet kiss,
embellishing a fancy thought, that it loved her too.

Ai Mouraria,
through rooftops you have traveled endless days,
wrapped in the current that now flows free.
The smell of the fishes, the sea, the taste of salt on lips,
leaves one yearning for the sustenance of yesterday.

Ai Mouraria,
how she has loved you,
and in an instant you are gone.
tainting her as and old lover
returning now and again with tragic kisses.

Ai Mouraria,
now she waits, in the twilight of forever,
with fado from long ago,
trailing her feet,
as she walks bare through saudade,

where now and again
she yearns for your touch
where now and again
the emptiness is replaced
where now and again,
she is wrapped in an alley with no name,

and she lives, forever.....

 © Dawn Michelle

Author's Note:

Mouraria is an old medieval neighbourhood in Lisbon Portugal which is the birthplace of the Fado music genre. In Mouraria you will see the traditional, not-yet-gentrified old Lisbon rich in history and tradition

fa•do (ˈfɑ du, -doʊ) n., pl. -dos.  a Portuguese folk song that is typically of doleful or fatalistic character.

Saudade:  is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. A stronger form of saudade might be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing, moved away, separated, or died.
Saudade was once described as "the love that remains" after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one's children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings altogether, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling.

In Portuguese, "Tenho saudades tuas" (European Portuguese), translates as "I have (feel) saudade of you" meaning "I miss you", but carries a much stronger tone. In fact, one can have saudade of someone whom one is with, but have some feeling of loss towards the past or the future. For example, one can have "saudade" towards part of the relationship or emotions once experienced for/with someone, though the person in question still is part of one's life, as in "Tenho saudade do que fomos" (I feel "saudade" of the way we were). Another example can illustrate this use of the word saudade: "Que saudade!" indicating a general feeling of longing, whereby the object of longing can be a general and undefined entity/occasion/person/group/period  etc. This feeling of longing can be accompanied or better described by an abstract will to be where the object of longing is.

September Whisper

Whispers of September

in this city that will always be mine
built with walls made of stories
bringing present in myself
then

From visions through windows
like a flower waiting to bloom
I feel the morning breeze
that loves the desires of my soul

I recall glances
on streets where I have lived
In alleys without name
that touched my lives
replacing emptiness and solitude
with horizons yet to be loved

These are my postcards
from a thousand dreams
of a city forever belonging to kings
the castle of all my memories

Lisboa Antigua

 © Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved

Pages of We

These books here on my shelf,
filled with pages of we,
carry pictures of adventures,
when they were devoted to me.

There's one when they were little,
and sat upon my knee,
and another we were dancing,
filled with joy, filled with glee.

Growing older stories told,
proved grander again and again,
and the swelling of pride,
filled me up to no end,

And boxes filled with memories,
trinkets saved from days of past,
sits next to the shelf of pages,
collecting tears on my behalf.

As the ones I loved are gone now,
and them I little see,
some they live in heaven,
and others simply despise me.

I am billed a price so heavy,
for mistakes both true and false
I pay now with the loneliness,
days dragging in methodical loss.

I wonder if I will survive it,
the pain, the regret,
I wonder if they will ever know,
I was their mom,
at my best.....

The End

it has come

the punishment included with my existence

and though i thought i was strong enough to endure

i fear i am at the end and the pain will surely be my death

i have sat here quietly

letting all believe in the treacherous memories

from those i assisted with creation

for it is not in me to pain as i have been pained

yet every blow received from the execution

beats down repeatedly upon me and i am

a broken woman....

they will never know they have killed

the cause being of a broken heart and even still

the absence will not phase them

no tears will flow no regret cross the mind

there will only be relief and rejoicement

 for having been set free

from the disgusting weak disappointment called the one giving them life

all that i have fought for is gone

 all that i have lived for vanquished

the rejection is a pain i cannot bear

and i know not how to live

i only pray to survive

that I may continue to serve diligently......

 © Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved