Mom The moon is out The lights are off The tornado is close Let’s turn on the lights Oh my gosh! I’m scared From all those bangs Like from guns Then those lights That touch the ground And the water Falling down Like a pool I see the grass Wet and muddy Yet green and close to yellow Mommy I’m scared I need a hug Because I feel Trembling And I want to cry.
Falling As I contemplate That blazing sun In this mysterious land The beginning of our clan Tears running up my head Some disappearing into my hair And others evaporating into thin air.
As I approach That brilliant sand I start thinking Of my years past. I see my ending Coming fast Yet I’m glad I could see This pyramid at last.
The blast Took out my breath Broken I felt at last Exhausted is my soul Yet my body Doesn’t think so. As if a puppet I stand and walk Those difficult steps And climb to the top Once again Feeling the dryness Of the land Of history Miniature years Piled up sand. Step and another As if mere initiation Questioning this incantation.
Reality Written hieroglyphs Passed down into doctrines Embellished translations Politics involved Egocentric involvement Dogma dismembered.
I’m at the top Frightening sight Sun blazingly bright Horizontal infinity Beyond sanity I say Yet What a beautiful sight.
That one second Framed into my soul To follow The fall The tears of joy As well as shock Falling again Into that beautiful sand I embrace it all. Even the blasting finale…
There is a block In my head More like a clog Somewhere in there I’ve got stories to share I can feel them I even live them I get provoked By so many emotions Exasperated By contradicting Rights and wrongs I become vexed Outraged and enraged By psychological labyrinths There is no in between I shriek and Shed some extreme Salty tears Sometimes from joy Others from bitterness That stings the essence Of existence.
Yet… They become Blurred images Due to my Word shortage And will deficiency.
Is it writer’s block? Who knows Is it procrastinating? Bet so… Even so Let’s pick up the pen And keep writing Who knows Maybe A good one will come Out of lacking words…
No importa que tan imperfecto sea uno O que tan caído estés emocionalmente Dios, la naturaleza, la vida misma te dice Sigues vivo Hoy es un nuevo ciclo Hoy no es ayer Hoy es un día para empezar.
Y aunque hay amaneceres lluviosos Recuerda Hoy solo es una oportunidad Para remendar Para empezar Para cambiar Para amar Para ser amado Para visualizar a futuro O simplemente Para disfrutar el presente.
Así como un libro escrito No puedes reescribir Sobre una página escrita Mas siempre podrás Cambiar a una pagina limpia Escribir tu presente Y parte de tu futuro.
Y sobre todo Al final del día Si hoy no tuviste oportunidad Recuerda Que mañana SERÁ UN NUEVO AMANECER…
But today I’m thrilled I’m almost done Grooming myself To meet her.
Five hundred years Have passed by. Today She will Finally be mine Once again.
It was hard Not to show My emotions.
My restrain was My vow with Ernest Not to come close To her Until her 18th birthday so I had to keep away. Even when she came to me I had to be silent and cold. Not a good start at all. But today Will be the end Of that I’ll finally show my true self.
Leia My lovely honey eyes Frail like jasmines In full bloom With such a sweet Smell Under the moonlight.
Finally Behind this door Is my betrothed What face will she make?
I opened the door And there was Only a note “The kingdom is yours Don’t look for me Since I won’t exist anymore.”
My heart sank
I was shocked!
But I felt her presence Her unique blood That keeps us vampires From desiring only blood.
Then, I saw it. A blood stone Who? Who took her?
To go against me?! I grabbed the stone
Enraged I left the mansion. In search for my beloved.
* It was a hard time when I made this poem. I guess we always look for miracles when life seems threatened; so we search for our closest means of faith that embodies our family dogma. Yet we forget that we are the ones doing this to nature, so there is no need of miracles, just a need of consciousness and action…
The sky is baby blue There are twinkling lights in the night As if they were counting Seconds in our lives.
Flowers smell of love Rose’s petals so soft As delicate as is Gives us hope What a sight!
Kids play in the wild As if it were part of their homes Drip drops falling from above The rainy season arrives Giving us water To wash our souls.
There’s pollution in the air Calamities are astray As if they were counting Seconds in our lives.
Manufacturers smell of green They also drain their bane Water-like looks so soft As delicate as is Dear Lord! Cancer! What a sight!
We have stayed in our homes for a while Confined by this covid-19 Drip drops are falling through our skin “End of times” dogma arrives Scaring us, warning us To wash our souls.
** This was first published in the 7th volume of The Chachalaca Review
I am the mermaid That sings her notes Calling who ever approaches Enchanting their minds With imagination Beyond their sight.
I am that astronaut That reaches the stars That breaks them apart Forming the powder Of magic itself.
I’m the wizard That wonders in fantasyland That comes out of books And enchants this land.
I am that shape shifter That hurts all around That’s beyond comprehension That’s learning her transformation And runs towards a new destination.
Yes, I am that princess in distress That waits for her prince The savior of her dreams.
I’m also that introvert That breaks from her binds That has a strong sense of justice Elixir for her great powers To help the people around.
Yes, I am that writer That once wanted to become An infinity of possibilities Yet her calling is this.
From immature beliefs That now have become Written words as it seems. Like that butterfly That has just come out of her cocoon Barely opening her wings Engaging into this wonderful world.
I morph into my protagonist Although I suffer her losses I also enjoy her road of achievements. However, I’m also a villain That’s a Machiavellian And enjoys her sadistic approach Killing all that comes in her way.
Yes, I finally put it into words A storyteller in the making I’m a writer That morphs Into this world of possibilities.