Painting with words, writing with images 2

“Painting with Words, Writing with Images�

Human Woman, The Female Identity by Ileana Collazo

It is my aim to, when I write, paint pictures in the minds of those who read my words; and to tell wordless stories with images that speak as loud if they had the means to talk and breath.

Ileana Collazo Miami, Florida 2016

Alone with Her Thoughts by Ileana Collazo Isolation leads to devastation that cracks the soul; carving a passage for thought.

Abruptly, the silence explodes -turning itself inside outerasing all doubt.

Creation re-created by the space inside a brain that was too cluttered by chatter.

Pristine, the blood rushes to the stem, filling up with pools of words that rush freely to her brain.

So clear, like chimes that clatter in winds that bring the promise of spring that ends the darkness of winter.

April 28, 2016

Reminessing by Ileana Collazo Woven into silence are the echoes of all of those unquiet thoughts that we are intent on repressing for fear that we are digressing into a darkness so black that it turns the air to ice trapping us inside, restless and breathless; barely alive.

Any sign of life is welcome, until we realize not all things are divine, not all blood is wine.

From a vine we hang with a grip so tight; broken fingers cause us to whine.

Once the silence breaks and new tears are shed; open wounds start to heal, broken hearts start to mend, and all thoughts fly away.

March 7, 2016

Midnight Bloom by Ileana Collazo My heart, as ancient as the rocks that roll on silent nights onto the shore making that clicking sound, beats to the sound of flapping wings that flutter hard against the wind; as hard as I try to be free from all the worries and the chains that keep me bound to destiny’s whims.

My will, much stronger than anyone thinks, fights like a warrior in this war that never ends and no one wins; but I will not give in.

For, I was promised paradise, and aim to build it for myself; with my own hands, in my own way, with crystal walls that never smear where I will never shed a tear, and there will never be a woe that I can’t pluck like I do weeds when they grow too close to my dreams.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Worshiping the Goddess by Ileana Collazo I pray today that when you pray you do it in a universal temple, where the only whispering is the leaves that rustle instead of that of humans gossiping.

Where the glitter of jewels comes from jade in the sun and from wet rocks glittering and dew drops sparkling under sunlight and moonlight.

Where the rich and the poor drink from one waterhole and where killing is done for food rather than greed; and not ever for hate.

I pray you pray for innocence and grace, and for knowledge to take ignorance’s place.

Amen - Namaste.

December 24, 2015

Waiting by Ileana Collazo To slip between the cracks into a space so tight; to slither on the grass in a drizzle so cold.

To wait in vain, in pain, for all that never came and never will.

As the hours pass, and the earth turns bright, then black; and the heart expands and shrinks, and the tears and lips get dry.

To know that it is too late, but to remain inert eating dirt served on broken plates.

The calendar reads May 10th, But, for me, it gets dark at 5 o’clock as eyelids flutter like trapped butterflies and doors shut tight leaving the world behind.

March 25, 2016

Lying Beside You by Ileana Collazo Trapped in a garden without gates; inert.

Eyes fixed on things I cannot see, but my heart still long for in vain.

The rain pours softly over me, the flowers constrict my chest, soft petals choke me with dread from memories much too long dead.

May 17, 2015

Bleeding Heart, Paper Wings by Ileana Collazo A door opens and closes, the floor creaks as footsteps stroke it; light shines but too quickly fades, turning morning into darkness.

Devoid of all other sounds, only her breathing is heard mingled with the stifled whimpers of a soul too limp to cry.

Twenty-four hours have passed; lost in time and gone too fast, while the minutes dragged too slow.

Thoughts entangled in a web, tongue too dry, eyes open wide, arms hanging limp by each side.

Too late for prayers, too early for death; too angry to reason, too tired to flee.

January, 30, 2016

Human Woman by Ileana Collazo Sometimes we fall in love with someone who does not exist, try to change someone who will never yield, love ourselves less than we do others, daydream at night and sleep the day away.

Sometimes we think things we should not think, say things we don’t mean, wait much too long to do things that need to be done, then end up sitting on a bench alone.

Other times we suddenly take a turn and let the summer breeze whisper to us, and let the sunlit shadows lead us to places we would not have gone.

October 20, 2015

Searching for Herself by Ileana Collazo There’s no room left in me for regrets, reminiscing, or repetition; since that which seemed eternal is now terminal.

My life, my thoughts, my time to the grand scheme inconsequential.

These days I search for things that I don’t need to keep in some rusted time capsule I won’t be here to open.

The past that used to beckon for me to go and visit I now turn a deaf ear to; mirages are not real.

And fear, always so near, is losing all its potency to loss; which is so real.

All questions left unanswered I’ll toss inside my casket; the things I leave behind will not be stained by grief.

March 25, 2016

Fated for Mating – Destined to Weep by Ileana Collazo One breath inhaled, one gulp of air thick with despair.

I lay inert on the wet grass daring time to pass.

One thread of gold around my finger; the reason for it gone.

I strain to listen to the faint whisper of words that have been said, but all I hear is the wind hollowing and my sobs gone astray.

May 10, 2015

Washed Out by Ileana Collazo A mother is a woman, who once was a daughter, who once was a child, who once was an infant, who started off as an embryo created by two.

A mother is an object of love and affection, resentment, and rejection; a person of sorts.

Not always seen as human, but rather a reflection of all that spells perfection and sacrifice.

All giving and forgiving, pious and understanding, never the least demanding; an effigy of light.

All skin and bones shed, all wants and needs forsaken, she sits around and waits for those who want and need her.

In dreams she runs barefoot, plunges into the ocean, walks down a wooded path until nighttime approaches.

Awakened by reality; dishes clang, phones ring, dinner burns, she drives, she mends, and shouts as children squirm.

A mother is not perfect, but if you ever hurt her, remember that in essence she is no more than a girl.

May 8, 2014

Weightless by Ileana Collazo A drum beats hard inside my head: unrest.

The best is gone, now I am left with all the rest.

Unkempt, the garden overgrown with pests chokes the day lilies at midnight; while I lay frozen on my bed waiting for things that cannot wait, calling out names into empty space, digging my nails into my chest, trying to rip out the beating heart preventing me from floating away.

May 1, 2016

Drowning by Ileana Collazo When your chest aches, and your heart breaks, and you fall into an ocean so deep that your lungs fill up with brine; the world ceases to roll over, and sun rays becomes so dim that the visions you have seen blur into a veil so thin that it rips in the warm wind as you feel the waves that swell as they sway you to and fro until you can hear the song of those mariners long gone who still weave with crooked hands shreds of hope that have long gone.

May 1, 2016

The Past is Always Near by Ileana Collazo When I was small, an old man with a limp would sit me by his side, point up to the vast sky, and tell me that one star in the milky black was mine.

To what I would reply: “I want it, bring it to me”.

To what he would rebuttal: “It is not yours to hold”.

“What is the point?

I’d ask.

“Why own it just in name?”

“I do not want it, then”.

Today I sit alone, and stare up on my own; the woman I’ve become much like the girl I was; still wishing for that star, and praying for it to fall.

May 1, 2016

Living Together, Sleeping Apart by Ileana Collazo Man and woman grapple over sex and money, a half-eaten apple, a child, internet porn; their marriage now a corpse they dress up every day.

He groans, she mourns; he moans, she subs.

Conformity brews the coffee, resentment fries the bacon and eggs; no toast, they won’t be breaking bread.

What’s dead is dead, but it cannot be buried yet; Society’s hell’s keeper is standing at the door, and they are not ready to tell.

So they drive off each morning, to too quickly return to shout and curse with windows shut, and sleep in separate beds.

May 4, 2014

Looking at Herself by Ileana Collazo A figure lingers on the path; she moves, it stays, she approaches, it retreats.

She hears a sigh as a beam of moonlight dives into a puddle at her feet, and a gust of wind she greets that kisses her cheek and scuttles through the trees.

The figure and she touch, the meld into a shadow, and lean against a sky so starlit that it shimmers.

May 7, 2016

Bleeding Heart, Paper Wings 2 by Ileana Collazo A road that narrows as I forge ahead, and widens as it turns; which seems to never end.

I repent, but life is unforgiving; I cry, but the tears dry too quickly, the breeze is too dry, the sun is too hot, my bones are too tired, my mind is too cluttered, My fear, my dread; a cloth that wraps me in red choking me with its embrace flowing freely as I walk giving me butterfly wings.

May 9, 2016

Smoldering Grief by Ileana Collazo We dream that there are things that matter, we wince when we think that this is all there is.

Paradise found and paradise lost are two such different things; one sought after, the other one feared.

Endearing is the promise that we will go on for eternity; appalling is the notion that we will dissolve into matter that in turn no longer matters and is of no consequence as the world turns on its axis and we no longer exist.

To sit and wonder and ponder, counting each second that passes, knowing that each time a clock ticks, each time our heart beats inside us, we come closer to that hour when our eyelids will stop fluttering, and our last breath will announce it is time for our departure.

May 9. 2016

Represented by:

Greenwich, Connecticut