I’m crying for a meal

The heat of the day punched me
with its strong fist of fire.
I'm punching back,
Fighting hard 
to get out of the sight of this star, 
that looks at me like an obsessive boyfriend,
following me everywhere.
I walk,
 I stop, 
I sigh,
I frown
and I engage this enemy again.

The day robbed me some life
and the flames try to take my energy
away.
I'm not strong,
I don't fly, 
But I'm not easy on giving up
So I kick every step of my way home
and I suceed.
I won this time.

I cannot see my stalker anymore.
I'm ecstatic,
I got home.

The forces are leaving me
for today.
The body I'm using
it's eating itself alive.
I am starving,
I need some help.
Desperately in the kitchen I realize
there is nothing there,
there is no such prize.
I feel so hopeless... 
I start to cry.

I’m lost… of words.

It’s been… what? a year maybe since I last posted something on here. That’s the same time I haven’t written. My notebooks are dying in the dust while I got distracted with life outside my world. I’ve been happy, sad and anxious and not for a second it had come to my mind to write about it. I’m ashamed but it is like I didn’t need it… until today.

I got lost of words. Notebooks were looking at me, waiting for me to touch them, to remember cause maybe I’d miss writing and would use them again. But I didn’t, I did touch them though, while I was searching for my academic books or organizing my personal objects; I’m sorry to write it,  Notebooks: I didn’t miss you.

Maybe writing is like those churches where you only go when you’re in trouble. Maybe that was for me, writing a piece of something that I’m truly not sure what it is, maybe prose, or poem or… garbage. I let life to suck me dry, and I’m sorry.

Don’t get mad at me, Words: I’m back. During this year I changed jobs, I found an awful boss along the way and I was so stressed that I wanted to run. I had no energy left for anything else since everything was focused on surviving. Take me back, I’m here now and that’s what matters.

I may use new words, Words. Don’t get jealous, they’re gonna like you. Some of the ones I used may not appear as they used to. Don’t hate me; people change and with them their vision of the world. I might have changed a bit, or not. I’m not sure. You’ll tell me.

I can’t promise 100% commitment, that would be a lie and I don’t like to lie. Although, I can say that I’ll try, Words. I’ll do my best for you to see me around more often, so I can use you Notebooks, and we could be the gang we used to be during my teenage years, where we looked at the sky and danced with the birds.

By this time you should know that I always come back to you… You are home.

Querida niña

Docenas de almas pasan

a través

De los gritos de tu madre,

la confusión de ellas se inspira

en la frustración de su ser.

Su voz resurge

entre las sombras del silencio

como animal herido y enojado,

desgarradora de sonrisas

se vuelve

experta en matar la niñez.

Repite la sinfonía del horror,

De aquel horror que repite

la eterna melodía,

tornando triste tu vida,

querida niña,

sin parar hasta la adultez.

The Cycle of Words

Emptiness transforms words

into nothing.

It melts them with bitterness

and sobriety,

It seasons them with loneliness

and self pity.

It burns them to death,

Until the dust of what

once were words

float away.

Confused but free

they blend with the nowhere,

letting their pain be,

becoming oblivion,

Resting in peace.

 

Semana Santa

El aire habla de hacer arte

En medio de la desierta ciudad,

Voces tímidas detrás de las ventanas

Ansiosas por salir a bailar.



El olor a trago y a incienso se unen

Como amantes en un hotel,

Rezos, risas y gemidos liberados

Se pierden en las calles de un ayer



Que no está claro y no es lejano,

Que no se escuda en la soledad,

Vive en las rodillas penitentes

Y en los pañuelos con sabor a sal.




La luz toca los cuerpos muertos

De almas viviendo la resurrección

De la música y las pinturas mesiánicas

En el guayabo de la crucifixión.



Languidecen los rostros santos

Mientras florece el ser real

Iluminado en el drama confuso

Enaltecido en la irrealidad



De las mentiras del paganismo

Que dibujan las verdades del deseo;

Búsqueda incesante del abismo

De un reflejo de sí mismo en el espejo.



Descansa la humanidad hundida

En el pecado y la salvación,

Reposa serena la vida mía

En el placer de la observación.

NaPoWriMo

This thing… I have never done it before, so I don’t know how it’ll go.

I registered my blog on the NaPoWriMo (which is kind of cool) and my challenge is to write a poem per day during the month of April… well, yeah, I’m a bit nervous because this is the first time I’ll do something like this. I’m not sure that my poems are good enough but I need to try, so this time I will try harder to keep up the pace with this commitment with myself.

This is a great exercise as I’ve spent almost a year without writing (my last post was something I wrote on 2016), that’s why I’m so excited about doing this and even if I don’t get too many visits I don’t mind, I just want to prove myself that I can write and that I can do it right. Where am I going to get the inspiration from? What if I’m not in the mood? I don’t know, I’ll figure it out everyday.

As English is not my first language, you guys will read poems in English and in Spanish, so I hope you enjoy it.

Read them, be honest and write a comment.

Pd: Please don’t kill me.

 

5 Tools to Format Your Poems During National Poetry Month — Discover

Penning 30 poems over 30 days in April? Use these five tools in your editor to format your poetry.

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