Cómo llegar a ti

Con un palo de lluvia te invoco

Con el sonar de las semillas imploro

Sacudo a un lado, sacudo al otro

Y el compás de la lluvia contonea mi canto

Canto lleno de amargura y desolación

Canto desbordado de ternura y amor

Palabras mágicas de devoción

Imágenes deseadas en adoración

Cambio la entonación, hay alegría salpicada en mi corazón

Un dios y un mortal se unían en la antigüedad

Pasado y presente encontrados combinando misticidad

Símbolo de amor, símbolo de depravación

Símbolos cargados de alta tensión

Todo es un ir y venir; ¿acaso en el amor también hay que sufrir?

La lluvia cambia de dirección, y me pregunto qué pasa con mi amor?

Siluetas perdidas en alta mar

Suspiros dejados en el caminar

Lágrima salada; esperanza azucarada

Posición para amar, sueño que anhelar

Un ángel enmascarado abraza al indio adornado

Azul o café  qué más da, cuando importa la esencia que hay

Sigo deseando y degustando lo que dentro de ti hay

                                      Gritos de dolor, gemidos de pasión                        

Imaginándome una escena estoy

Miradas profundas, tu mi prenda adorada,

Acaricio tu alma con la brisa del alba

Con los pies desnudos estoy

Cobijada con el abrigo de tu gran amor

Cabellos oscuros, cuántos conjuros

Mezcla de sabor y textura

Libido del sol y la luna

Valle silencioso por este ser tan hermoso

Cómo detallar, cómo definir cuán grandioso exquisito y apetitoso

Me resulta el amor por ti

Poemas ni palabras bellas

Ser imperfecto, mi platillo predilecto

Un olor a jazmín me recuerda a ti

Chistoso es porque nunca te conocí, pero aun así

Puedo declarar que contigo es con quien quiero estar

Responde a mi llamado, quiero saber dónde estás, para así poder continuar con este cantar inspirado en ti.

21Mayo2009

Love perfection

How can I describe perfection? Love perfection. Love… which is personalised in a man. A man who is really perfect and who seems love lives within him and all the time is showing itself. This love cannot hide from his smile, his face, his words… And it can only come from one place: God.

He; himself is made of God`s love and perfection. Oh, what a gracious being my eyes can appreciate! I can observe him without being tired or bored. Even when I close my eyes the first thing I see is him. I do really have a good time when I think about him and much more when I see him.

Love, love, love… perhaps I`m in love…

Love, love, love… what a marvellous word!

I can almost feel it, smell it, touch it…

It is perfectly noticeable how love has manifested itself when is produced by him, and how not only he could awaken it where it slept but where it was not, he could amazingly create it.

He is blessed often whiles and is continuously filled up with the Holy Spirit. He, love and this amiable being are the same things. This baron carries blessing within his eyes, all that he looks on is made pleasanter. The look he has when he little smiles cannot be said, nor held in the thought; it is such a new and forthcoming miracle.

This wonderful man makes me go out of all thought, passed me certainly into glory. He draws me from yellowish to golden paths. And I feel my heart rise and paralyse every time he salutes me.

I do really worship my Lord for creating such a magnificent being. This beatitude, all this glorious being belongs to his Lord, to his Master, to his King, to his Everything, to God himself. Thus being exactly the same likeness and resemblance of Him.

7^th January 2010.

The White Worm

The need of an easy drug that leads me into your thoughts in the dark to see them shine is leaving my soul. Sacrificed the white worm brings into life my deepest dream for which this sonnet begins. The one venerable and desirable feeling for which I had been feeding is lacking in itself.  Love is hurt, is bleeding wasted hopes, is breathing poisonous words of loneliness and is surrounded by its most terrible foe: the void. Its screams are virtually imperceptible. It needs to escape but it doesn´t want to because now it depends on the tender taste of pain. But it is not the end.

Like the yellowish liquid of an old perfume that has been abandoned, love has no purpose to attain. Actually, it is alone in a tubular world, where colours are not and the essence has gone. Its melted regrets become a river of bitter memories that have no end. Maybe it is not good enough. Perhaps it doesn´t deserve to live at all.

Unspoken fears, which are well nourished by the smudged croon, stare into space to its fate. While love´s faith is devoured by an angel with shiny broken wings, its breath is drought by a cruel sense of hate.

Love is perishing and it swallows stars dust that suffocates its spirit. “You don´t have to give up if you don´t want to” its wraith of a voice pronounce the pale words. Its eyes are closing; the last sunbeam penetrates his soul because it needs to live no more.

6^th December 2010.

Welcome!!

Hi everybody,

The intention of this blog is to have a space where I can express myself freely. Hope you enjoy reading my poetry and thoughts and all kind of stuff.

Welcome to my blog!!