Some time ago I was young, vibrant, strong and wasteful of life,
Smooth-skinned, black-haired and lined,
In one eye a captivating glow that penetrated the soul.
A good mind that easily memorized verse, names, numbers, and the past,
The stiff body faced all obstacles of life
Smooth, firm, warm hands when touching awakened love.
Then came the twilight of life,
That was soon followed by night,
And in the darkness of the night I was transformed.
The old age took care of this body that fights to stay alive and standing,
Wrinkles covered this body, especially his face and every risk seems to reveal a trodden path.
The weakened eyes, his light went off, leaving a haze in which the memory was dropped.
The mind yielded to oblivion and weak and forcible memories, I do not know who they are, how many and what happened,
The body bowed to the weight of life,
Shriveled, weak, cold hands wandering in search of some encouragement.
Hoping for the dawning of a new day,
Where all things will be made new,
Maranatha!
My new book:
Description
A number of years ago I learned to love poetry. I started with the simple curiosity of reading a couple of them and I fell in love. I started reading all kinds of poetry I could find and slowly I started to understand my taste for some styles and poets. Later I started writing my own poems and the first of them was “A Paixão”, that for some reason have not been translated yet in English, but it is a beautiful poem.
I see myself not as a genuine poet and I cannot find a proper word to define my style. I just let poetry fill me up with its own beauty and I put it down on the paper. I try to follow the rules of a fitting poem, but sometimes it simply doesn’t work, but I still have the feeling that I should write it, and I do so.
Therefore, I present to you with all my love and respect my English collection of poems. Hopefully you will enjoy it.
Luis A R Branco
Lisbon, Fall, 2014
Buy now at any major online store:
Verdade na Prática 
Poetry is simple a verbal and emotive creation which can offer perceptive content. To write and embrace, you are a poet. Poetry is subjective 🙂
Thanks for the comment!
So bittersweet and a bit sad…the passage of time. These poems always get me. This was beautiful. 🙂