Nameless love

You are bound to be free
and that is how
I will let you be
This silence is my love.
This smile is my farewell.
I can not say
You are my first love
Yet you are the one
That hurt the most.
The moon is clear tonight
The waves are ready
To sail away.
The treasures are left
Forever to be lost
And the wind
Has set its course.
Pretty sure you will
Set foot in many ports
As for mine
Is for ever closed.
Goodbye
My nameless love.

The forgotten letter

I still remember when my dad got a hold
Of my third love letter. He decided to encrust it on a piece of wood.
Of course the deed didn’t end there, to embellish it, he wrote,”Hija de tigre, pintito.” Which is a proverb that simply means “The daughter is like her mother” of course, he meant it playfully. 
There is a saying in english that means the same with different words.
” the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

On top of that, there were little flowers around it and a small heart on the bottom. I was so embarrassed and didn’t understand the love that my dad put into making that piece of art.
I was barely six, so if you see horrors in my grammar and spelling, you can imagine how it was back then (terrible).
Now… back then, in the middle of our home, dad had a small canteen. There were sculptures all around, from a David to a Moses, he also had some wooden sculptures, most of the wooden ones were either from animals or people from different ethnic groups in Mexico; and of course, just entering the place, that maybe 20-year-old-round piece of wood was hung for everybody to see. He was so proud of it that if people didn’t pay attention to it, he would tell them about it. Of course, at those same moments my embarrassment skyrocketed. 

Now days I laugh about it, but back then it was a thorn piercing my ego. I used to believe in the element spirits, I still do, but back then it was like a law. Somehow, I believed that by throwing my love letter to the ground in front of my house, the wind spirit would use its wind to take it to my beloved one. I do wonder who actually got to see those two letters before the third one. This third one was written on a memo pink paper with my mom’s business logo. I barely finished it, but my mom called me and I forgot it in my dad’s canteen; Hence the all the dilemma afterwards.

The last time I got to see my dad and was actually able to talk to him, I asked him why did he do that with the letter?
He started smiling and said, “It was the first time I saw you write a sentence. It made me proud.” I didn’t get it back then, I guess at 15 years old, one doesn’t understand the deep meaning of things.
However, now days, whenever I remember that forgotten letter, it fills my heart with joy and makes me cry.

Queen of the jungle

Have you ever driven with four kids? Just to give you an idea
As soon as I start driving, the two-year old starts crying
“Please, teta, teeetaaa!” Somehow I grab the backpack from the backseat
Prepare the bottle while driving with my knee
Yes my knee, and pass it to him stretching my arm to the back.

“Mom! Oh no! I’m dying!”  My sixteen year old screams.
Of course, he means in the game, IN THE GAME!
Then again, by inertia, I turned my head as he leans
He is next to me playing again
“Easy there,” I tell myself, breathe 
Reasons, there’s too many, starting with four.
Soon after, there’s a scream from the backseat

“Dude, chill,” my seven-year old tells my 4-year-old
And he keeps screaming for God knows what 
Yet my seven-year old covers his ears and yells “mom, tell him to stop!”

“Breathe”, I tell myself again while turning off the music
Listen boys, if you all don’t stop it now
Even your dinner will go to the sink
So, do you think they listened? Of course not!
Screaming and yelling, of course my two-year old after finishing his bottle joins the chorus
Inspiring enough to think that this is a jungle. Monkeys, exotic bird and even cicadas
Nothing out of the ordinary… “Breathe,” and finally an idea popped up.
“Guys if you keep at it, there won’t be any nintendo switch for the weekend.”
Silence… Finally no buzzing, no humming nor chirping, for how long? Who knows? let’s enjoy it while it lasts.

Food for the soul

As much as I thought
There were no such words
That came to my thoughts
When we talk about food.

Is not that I don’t enjoy
The delights of eating
It’s the preparing
And then the cleaning.

So let’s change it a bit
Food for the soul
There’s many things
Some are loud
Some are zens
And humor is among them.

There is dancing
which let’s the body sweat
With the sweating
and the moving
At least I forget
What needs to be forgotten.

And with each brush
A feeling is left behind
Such is a feat
That the painting
Becomes alive.

Of course
with each word
Our expressions
Give an illusion
Of a new world.

And there are much more
At least that I know
But for now
Let’s say this is my song
The food for the soul.

Arcana, The Story Behind

In the depths of despair

Thy flame becomes fair

And thy child with wings

Becomes a mortal in earth

But the knowledge of self

That is, within retained.

Once sixty lashes proceed

And the flame becomes complete

Then the one with seventy names

And the healer will once again

In heaven remain

As the prince of the world,

And as the protector of the unborn.

For each lash

10 years have passed

Six wings became three pairs

One shall be only in dreams

In the world, the boy shall exist

As for the last pair of wings

Only true love will know where it is.

Nonetheless till the girl appears

Ageless will be, the ancient of days

Moving from place to place

As for the twin         

The same path shall be seen

The one with the knowledge

In earth shall strive

As for the one in dreams

Till she appears

His memory in darkness shall remain.

There goes my coffee

One is but seven humble and smart
Sometimes cold and uneven, yet pulls the others around
The four year old comes with a spark
That lightens the room no matter how dark
And the baby on set the smartest of them all
Peace bringer and singer, yet crazy and tall.

My house is their jungle, the sofa their campsite
They march with a puzzle towards the treasure on site
They went under the mountain and into the sea
Leaving puddles and stains all over the place for momma to see.

Beware of big momma she’s decided to hunt
The messy explorers who stepped in her turf
After the yapping and zapping defeated they returned to their site
And decided to gamble it again and try.

And there they were like three generals
Making their plan, to where? To the pantry that’s where
A basket of cookies on top of the shelf
As if they were rookies that were their biggest aim.

Putting his foot on the first seven climbed up to the third
A can of coffee was there and the cookies tambien
Who would have thought that four was on guard,
For mommas in sight and a big scream came outright
As for seven and baby? Startled they got
Baby started crying and momma screamed on the spot.
Seven lost his grip; he then grabbed it and fell
You can imagine my face going insane.

Forget the prose, forget the third person spell
Just take a look, the kid!
No wait! Forget the kid, that other thing!
Aaand, there goes my coffee…

Lucky Charm

My old torn leopard charm
It’s a bit rough to the touch
Yet soft to the sight
And mellow to the heart.

With a smell of ages upon it’s fur
Covered with a smell of gardenias
To my sensitive nose.

Even though it looks like Chester cheetos
The taste is not exactly the same.

It came like fate
When I was by myself
Bringing hope and love to my life.

At least, that’s the premonition I was told
Although I took it more as a joke
A “what if” was my daily hope
And sure enough, I met my other soul.

Sometimes I wonder, was it part of a majestic plan?
Or maybe just a coincidence in my daily life?
Did this almost insignificant thing
Pulled it’s strings?

And when the night comes
And say good night to it,
those eyes and smile assure me
That my little lucky charm did so.

Quinceañera Arquitectural

Naciste para contemplar a la gente pasar
Aunque poco se de tí, puedo decir
Que emanas riquezas difíciles de olvidar.
Te han llamado
El pase ferrocarril de San Antonio y Arcansas.

Mas con el paso de los años
despues de ver un sinfin de historias de paso,
Subiste a ser La comandancia municipal.
Imagino, que viste una infinidad de injusticias
Y decidiste tomar las cartas en tus manos
Y no solo dejarlas al azar
convirtiéndote en corte municipal.

Hoy, mi paso es solo una estrella fugaz
De muchos otros destellos que haz visto pasar.
Cada que paso, contemplo
tu vestido estilo España Colonial
Con color sutil a coral
y detalles aperlados que te hacen ver casi surreal.
Tus pendientes de fierro
que alumbran tu belleza arquitectural
Y no olvidemos tu broche de oro
Insignia de valor y tesoro histórico nacional.
Orgullo de nuestra ciudad.

Te he nombrado quinceañera
Porque te veo en plena juventud,
Por nuestras historias compartidas
Alegrías, deseos y anhelos,
Sueños que quedan inscritos en fotografía
De jovencitas esperando su presentación
Oficial ante la sociedad.
Y de padres anhelando que sus hijas,
tengan una vereda sin espinas
al los años pasar.

Bella arquitectura
Monumento sin igual
Atraes al que pase
Escondiendo tus detalles
Detrás de esas hojas
Abanico singular.

Océano

Si el océano estuviera en el cielo
Las gotas de agua se levantarían del suelo
Formando un destello en pleno movimiento
Las olas sonarían sin cesar cada día
Y tal vez, solo tal vez, me conformaría si una vistazo de ti por día robaría.
Bello marinero que solo entre sueños te veo
Navegas a lo lejos y solo tu silueta esta entre mis dedos.
Si solo el cielo fuera el océano y tu navegaras sobre mi cabeza, segura estaría que día a día como girasol
Hacia ti miraría.
Y, si el océano fuera el cielo
Y la brisa tocase mi cuerpo
Creería que es tu caricia, que tanto anhelo
Aunque solo sea como un cuento.
Si tan solo,
el océano estuviera en el cielo

Cumpleaños En Poesía

Esta vida es mi poesía
Aunque lágrimas fueron derramadas entre lineas
Amor, esperanza y alguna que otra zonseada han formado mi prosa poética
Y aunque antes, del que dirán, miedo tenia
Hoy en día, narro mis altas y bajas aunque de espaldas, cualquiera se caería.
Ah, pero no olvidemos que me fascina también la fantasia
Así que escribo una que otra historia de la misma.
Y aunque me fascine el son del danzon
No entiendo sobre versos y sus rimas
Pero eso si, mientras se sienta cantadita
Me llena de alegría
Y aunque solo tenga 1 o 2 lectores por día
Seguiré narrando mi vida y alguno que otro sueño de fantasia.
Por eso mismo y con gran honor
Te doy las gracias porque hoy que es mi día te haz tomado el tiempo de leer mi poesía.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: