jueves, 11 de octubre de 2018
*Fireflies .*.
*Fireflies .*.
that at night they arrive like a shower of stars ...
they make my eyes light ...
I rest my love wishes in your lap ...
and you give it shape and figure
to the dark ...
like an eternal love ...
fireflies continue to light the path where my heart
at will he becomes a prisoner ....
fireflies continue to illuminate the portal of love ...
illuminate with all the intensity ...
I still remember him ..
Always weaving dreams ...
Always weaving dreams ...
with silver and gold threads ...
with those who
profile illusions ....
... And among so many emotions
He only knows that he adores you.
From so much weaving ... passions
has been touched
cast...
that is an accomplished achievement.
Do not...
it is not an achievement
because it continues
interweaving illusions ...
dreams ... and amazing
Mirages of love ...
that delight of passions
your dreamy soul.
... I feel like I'm waiting for something that is not going to happen.
I stopped waiting for things from life and began to happen miracles
*I stopped living in the waiting mode ... And at that moment I felt an absolute lightness in my soul, it is as if I started to live in reality; Before that, I only thought about how I had to live and I did not understand why I did not seem to have really important things to do, even though I tried so hard. Now, from one moment to the next, I finally started doing it. I do not care what will happen tomorrow. Before I cared that only good things happened and everything had to be good. Because before I was afraid that something could happen that I could not deal with ...
*. I stopped expecting something from others ... that they value me, that they do something good for me, that they are kind to me, that they are responsible ... I can not change the others or the things they could do for me, what I can change It is my expectation regarding them. I love to wait for nothing and accept with joy everything that arrives.
*I stopped hoping that tomorrow everything was wonderful and I had no problems ... The childish part of my soul wanted a tranquility and serenity. Until the adult part did not realize that tranquility and serenity existed in my interior, and that they did not depend on the external affairs that needed to be solved.
*I stopped living in the waiting mode ... And at that moment I felt an absolute lightness in my soul, it is as if I started to live in reality; Before that, I only thought about how I had to live and I did not understand why I did not seem to have really important things to do, even though I tried so hard. Now, from one moment to the next, I finally started doing it. I do not care what will happen tomorrow. Before I cared that only good things happened and everything had to be good. Because before I was afraid that something could happen that I could not deal with ...
*. I stopped expecting something from others ... that they value me, that they do something good for me, that they are kind to me, that they are responsible ... I can not change the others or the things they could do for me, what I can change It is my expectation regarding them. I love to wait for nothing and accept with joy everything that arrives.
*I stopped hoping that tomorrow everything was wonderful and I had no problems ... The childish part of my soul wanted a tranquility and serenity. Until the adult part did not realize that tranquility and serenity existed in my interior, and that they did not depend on the external affairs that needed to be solved.
THE HEART OF THE GOOD PEOPLE ... THIS MADE OF HIDDEN TEARS. ***
THE HEART OF THE GOOD PEOPLE ... THIS MADE OF HIDDEN TEARS. ***
In the hearts of good people there is no room for surrender. They fight for others, they never say "no" and they are the best support in every need. However, when they cry, they do it secretly because they can not do it anymore, because they are tired of being strong and their souls need those tears to repair themselves.
This type of situations of high emotional charge are very common in people accustomed to give everything for those around them.
We call them ... good people. *
viernes, 28 de septiembre de 2018
*The spring kissing*..POEM (BELLAS MAGENES QUE PUEDES COPIAR)
*The spring kissing* POEM.
**The spring kissing
gently the grove,
and the new green sprouted
like a green smoke.
The clouds were passing
about the youth field ...
Under that flowery almond,
everything loaded with flower
I remembered ... I have cursed
my youth without love.
Today ... in the middle of life,
I have stopped to meditate ...
! Youth never lived
who would dream again! *
lunes, 24 de septiembre de 2018
***UNA ROSA*** (luciernaga del año 2014)
*** UNA ROSA ***
CUANDO SIENTAS UNA TIBIA CARICIA
Y NADIE ESTÉ A TU LADO ...,
¡ES PORQUE TE REGALARAN ALGO
HERMOSO
HERMOSO
COMO UNA ROSA ...!
Y
CUANDO LA RECIBAS
SENTIRAS EL AROMA DE LA PIEL
DE QUIEN
DE QUIEN
TE LA REGALO ...,
UNA ROSA ES SENCILLA ...,
ASI COMO EL AMOR ...,
PERO TAMBIEN ES TAN DELICADA
COMO LA FRAGILIDAD
DEL CORAZON ...,
DEL CORAZON ...,
UNA ROSA ES TERNURA
Y TIENE UN SIGNIFICADO MAYOR ...,
Y ES ESE QUE SOLO TU
LE PUEDES DAR
LE PUEDES DAR
.... TU ALMA....
COMO UNA CAJITA
COMO UNA CAJITA
ESA CAJITA LIMPIA ...,
TRANSPARENTE
TRANSPARENTE
Y LLENA DE AMOR
PUES AHI ...,
DEBERAS ALBERGAR POR SIEMPRE
SUS PETALOS CUANDO
MARCHITOS ESTEN YA
MARCHITOS ESTEN YA
AUN ASI ...,
TU CUERPO SEGUIRA VIBRANDO
DE AMOR
DE AMOR
Y
AHOGADAMENTE ALBERGARAS
UN PROFUNDO
UN PROFUNDO
ARDIENTE DESEO Y PASION ...,
JUNTO A LAS ANHELANTES
ANSIAS DE TU CUERPO
Y LOS PROFUNDOS LATIDOS
DE TU CORAZON ...,
DE TU CORAZON ...,
CUANDO ESTES
HACIENDO EL AMOR. !!!
HACIENDO EL AMOR. !!!
JORGE LUIS BORGES...
POEMARIO DE JORGE LUIS BORGES
Habré de levantar la vasta vida
que aún ahora es tu espejo:
cada mañana habré de reconstruirla.
Desde que te alejaste,
cuántos lugares se han tornado vanos
y sin sentido, iguales
a luces en el día.
Tardes que fueron nicho de tu imagen,
músicas en que siempre me aguardabas,
palabras de aquel tiempo,
yo tendré que quebrarlas con mis manos.
¿En qué hondonada esconderé mi alma?
para que no vea tu ausencia
que como un sol terrible, pecado ocaso,
brilla definitiva y despiadada?
Tu ausencia me rodea
como la cuerda a la garganta,
el mar al que se hunde.
***AUSENCIA***
deJorge Luis Borges
Habré de levantar la vasta vida
que aún ahora es tu espejo:
cada mañana habré de reconstruirla.
Desde que te alejaste,
cuántos lugares se han tornado vanos
y sin sentido, iguales
a luces en el día.
Tardes que fueron nicho de tu imagen,
músicas en que siempre me aguardabas,
palabras de aquel tiempo,
yo tendré que quebrarlas con mis manos.
¿En qué hondonada esconderé mi alma?
para que no vea tu ausencia
que como un sol terrible, pecado ocaso,
brilla definitiva y despiadada?
Tu ausencia me rodea
como la cuerda a la garganta,
el mar al que se hunde.
***AUSENCIA***
deJorge Luis Borges
Lu
jueves, 20 de septiembre de 2018
Frente al mar .
Frente al mar .
El mar con su maravilloso color
turquesa , el canto de sus olas
mientras...
juegan con las rocas
van y vienen me atraen ,
me embriagan.
El sol se hace notar .
Me envuelve cálido ,
siento como si recibiera el más
amoroso de los abrazos.
Sedienta de amor lo disfruto como si
fuera amor... sí,
sí amor.
Sigo frente al mar sin preocuparme
del tiempo ...
me parece escuchar,
el trino de las gaviotas celosas.
Y yo sigo ahí Tejiendo mis sueños ,
Bellos sueños, que viviré en otra
estación del tiempo.
Luciérnaga
* Like an open book *
* Like an open book *
**I did not realize,
you entered in me
as
an open book ...
no, ... I did not know you,
more I did not know
that between its pages,
phrases and letters
would make me drunk
of Dreams ...
I forgot the sun
and the sea...
the trill of the seagulls ... and
from my,
yes, forget me ...
immersed among those pages,
of beautiful letters,
what did you convert
in verses ...
I did not ask you to remember it ...
But already wrapped between
prose and poems
surrounded by them I felt caressed ...
illusion, only illusion ...
Mirages and
subjugation...
Y...
I started to disappear
deleted ...
yes, you erase little by little ...
the page that was me ...!
I wanted to run away disguised as a butterfly ...
no, not sadly no, I could not ....
nobody sees me anymore ... and I
I did not ask you ...
you would put an open book
before my
thirsty eyes ...
deluded eyes ...
sensitive and wet eyes,
Eager eyes ...
no ... do not close them now ...
not now**
Firefly.
There are days...,
There are days...,
that I feel
that the hours escape me
and nothing is enough for me
to be because they are gray days ...
They fly out there
the seagulls, the ideas ...
.. murmur in my head
only the sea ...
And I ask for sun, ...
and I asked, ... what did I ask?
nothing.!!!
I just said something that I should not
subjugation...
And I feel nostalgic
for life because of the frost
for those his hands that were for not
to caress...
sadness is a dagger that goes through ...
it goes through and hurts ...
and my future is a shadow
It's going away, I'm erasing ...
And I ask the sun to embrace me
the day is gray ... I feel cold pain ..
And I would like to give you ...
but the afternoon is gray
and I'm erasing ...
I'm disappearing
as if
a hurricane's eye, no, I'm not ...
I feel that they are centuries, no, they were not hours ...
I take refuge in front of the sea ...
but the sea and the sun are jealous ....
there are days like that
that pass cruelly ....
days when I look for ...
and I turn the drawers
trying to find reasons
.. deleted
I close the windows
I turn the mirrors
and in my eyes only
the sea is ... no, I do not want to be erased ...
And I ask the sun to contain me, to embrace me ...
I hide...
but I'm already ...
just left...
I'm going ... penetr the sea, what's more
salty ... tears or water ...?
and I go
I arrive at the garden of silences
where fire hurts
the gray afternoon, ... I get rid of
without speaking, without speaking ...
I think subjugation,
I should not, no, I should not
when it is erased and there is not even a syllable ...
a few hours, .. I know I have very little left
I will be a gray shadow in the sea ...
I subjugated I still ... I did not know that it hurt so much to be erased.
what will be of me ... here,
here...
that I feel
that the hours escape me
and nothing is enough for me
to be because they are gray days ...
They fly out there
the seagulls, the ideas ...
.. murmur in my head
only the sea ...
And I ask for sun, ...
and I asked, ... what did I ask?
nothing.!!!
I just said something that I should not
subjugation...
And I feel nostalgic
for life because of the frost
for those his hands that were for not
to caress...
sadness is a dagger that goes through ...
it goes through and hurts ...
and my future is a shadow
It's going away, I'm erasing ...
And I ask the sun to embrace me
the day is gray ... I feel cold pain ..
And I would like to give you ...
but the afternoon is gray
and I'm erasing ...
I'm disappearing
as if
a hurricane's eye, no, I'm not ...
I feel that they are centuries, no, they were not hours ...
I take refuge in front of the sea ...
but the sea and the sun are jealous ....
there are days like that
that pass cruelly ....
days when I look for ...
and I turn the drawers
trying to find reasons
.. deleted
I close the windows
I turn the mirrors
and in my eyes only
the sea is ... no, I do not want to be erased ...
And I ask the sun to contain me, to embrace me ...
I hide...
but I'm already ...
just left...
I'm going ... penetr the sea, what's more
salty ... tears or water ...?
and I go
I arrive at the garden of silences
where fire hurts
the gray afternoon, ... I get rid of
without speaking, without speaking ...
I think subjugation,
I should not, no, I should not
when it is erased and there is not even a syllable ...
a few hours, .. I know I have very little left
I will be a gray shadow in the sea ...
I subjugated I still ... I did not know that it hurt so much to be erased.
what will be of me ... here,
here...
miércoles, 19 de septiembre de 2018
UNA MUJER DESNUDA...El amor a la mujer . de Mario Benedetti mas bellas imagenes para copiar
El amor a la mujer es uno de los elementos emblemáticos de la vida. Breve o extendido, espontáneo o minuciosamente construido, es de cualquier manera un apogeo en las relaciones humanas.
Mario Benedetti,
Mario Benedetti,
Una mujer desnuda y en lo oscuro
Una mujer desnuda y en lo oscuro
tiene una claridad que nos alumbra
de modo que si ocurre un desconsuelo
un apagón o una noche sin luna
es conveniente y hasta imprescindible
tener a mano una mujer desnuda
una mujer desnuda y en lo oscuro
genera un resplandor que da confianza
entonces dominguea el almanaque
vibran en su rincón las telarañas
y los ojos felices y felinos
miran y de mirar nunca se cansan
una mujer desnuda y en lo oscuro
es una vocación para las manos
para los labios es casi un destino
y para el corazón un despilfarro
una mujer desnuda en un enigma
y siempre es una fiesta descifrarlo
una mujer desnuda y en lo oscuro
genera una luz propia y nos enciende
el cielo raso se convierte en cielo
y es una gloria no ser inocente
una mujer querida o vislumbrada
desbarata por una vez la muerte.
Haré brisa.
Oh, mi amor ...
dime cuando queme el sol
con mis manos haré brisa
para que no ...
Oh, oh, oh!
dime si podré jugar
sin los sueños
la armonía no tiene lugar
Dime ¿qué te ayuda ayudarte?
sólo dime que te cuesta sentir
que en tu alma también hay amor
Oh! tal vez tal vez
yo te abrace donde estés
no encuentro la armonía no tiene pie ...
Todos los espejos
se han disuelto bajo el mar
todos los espejos sin volver ...
Dime quién eres
o quizás no estés aquí,
qué dulzor regresa a mí
desde el Edén, hiedra al sol ...
Dime ¿qué te ayuda ayudarte?
sólo dime que te cuesta sentir
que en tu alma también hay amor
Oh! tal vez tal vez
yo te abrace donde estés
no encuentro la armonía no tiene pie ...
Oh mi amor
dime cuando queme el sol
con mis manos haré brisa
para que no ...
con mis manos haré brisa
para que no ...
SELECCION DE POEMAS DE PABLO NERUDA...**MI ALMA ES UN CARRUSEL VACIO EN EL CREPUSCUL**pablo neruda antecdetes


Suave es la bella como si música y madera,
ágata, telas, trigo, duraznos transparentes,
Han erigido la fugitiva estatua.
Hacia la ola dirige su contraria frescura.
El mar moja bruñidos pies copiados
a la forma recién trabajada en la arena
y es ahora su fuego femenino de rosa
una sola burbuja que el sol y el mar combaten.
Ay, que nada te toque solo la sal del frío!
Que ni el amor destruye la primavera intacta.
Hermosa, reverbero de la espuma indeleble,
deja que tus caderas impongan en el agua
una medida nueva de cisne o de nenúfar
y navegue tu estatua por el cristal eterno.








AGUA SEXUAL INFALTABLE(IMPERDIBLE)
Rodando a los solos de goterones,
a gotas como dientes,
a espesos goterones de mermelada y sangre,
rodando a goterones,
cae el agua,
como una espada en gotas,
como un desgarrador río de vidrio,
cae mordiendo,
golpeando el eje de la simetría, pegando en las costuras del
alma,
rompiendo cosas abandonadas, empapando lo oscuro.
Solamente es un soplo, más húmedo que el llanto,
un líquido, un sudor, un aceite sin nombre,
un movimiento agudo,
haciéndose, espesándose,
cae el agua,
un goterones lentos,
hacia su mar, hacia su seco océano,
hacia su ola sin agua.
Veo el verano extenso, y un estertor saliendo de un granero,
bodegas, cigarras,
poblaciones, estímulos,
habitaciones, niñas
durmiendo con las manos en el corazón,
soñando con bandidos, con incendios,
veo barcos,
veo árboles de médula
erizados como gatos rabiosos,
veo sangre, puñales y medias de mujer,
y pelos de hombre,
veo camas, veo corredores donde grita una virgen,
veo frazadas y organismos y hoteles.
Veo los sueños sigilosos,
admito los postreros días,
y también los orígenes, y también los recuerdos,
como un párpado atrozmente levantado a la fuerza
Estoy mirando.
Y entonces hay este sonido:
un ruido rojo de huesos,
un pegarse de carne,
y piernas amarillas como espigas juntándose.
Yo escucho entre el disparo de los besos,
escucho, sacudido entre respiraciones y sollozos.
Estoy mirando, oyendo,
con la mitad del alma en el mar y la mitad del alma
en la tierra,
y con las dos mitades del alma miro al mundo.
veo caer un agua sorda,
un goterones sordos.
Es como un huracán de gelatina,
como una catarata de espermas y medusas.
Veo correr un arco iris turbio.
Veo pasar sus aguas a través de los huesos.

Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)



























































