Challenge IBI'm about to collapse in this hour of darkness. I'm about to give up and the cause of it is this sadness.
Now I realized I took the never ending path of suffering, I'm walking through shadows and fire. I won't be rescued, because of my stupid pride and imaginary nemesis I'd rather kill myself than look over my shoulder, turn my sight to that helpful hand and give up.
Tears are rolling, what a river of desperation and uncertainty I've painted! My weakness is what I've met today! It's just that feeling, terrible one which talks to you and says you are not enough. It overwhelms me while I'm in doubt of my strong power of will which has now decayed, hasn't it? Still, I believe, I'm trying to keep my head upright; I'm trying to survive and not to let you know I can cry.
Time's up! It was from the very moment I chose between the wide and the narrow road. I took the narrow darken lane, now it's time to fight. This is it! The shot to prove my strength and my val
The AppleHere under this apple tree,The Apple5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky seems to fall on me.
So let it rain and wash away my sins.
Let the red drops roll over my skin.
Here lying on the green grass,
I try to reach you through this wall of glass.
Here wondering if time knows,
I keep praying to God, to bless our love.
The song is now the silent wind,
which reminds me you are not here.
The tone of hope is growing,
while the drops keep on rolling.
Suddenly I feel your hands in my back,
and your voice whisper every thing is all right.
Suddenly your face appears to me so clear
and your breath vanishes the fears.
Here under this apple tree,
I take a bite from a fallen apple!
I look up to the blue sky
and realize you are the sin I need to have
Innocence diesDemons are waking up.Innocence dies5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lust is knocking at my door,
dull words are touching me with love,
and madness took me with passion on the floor.
Angels are dying at their feet.
Gabriel was crossed with greed
and stopped announcing God's will.
Miguel was bound with a coward's chains
There was no warrior to protect us from hell.
A gray cloud announces the ending of this story,
Now, in me the sins of sins find their glory.
They drag me gently to a dark paradise.
They break my soul because of Miguel's cowardice.
They cover my hazel windows, they tell me not to cry.
Step by step I'm walking on water,
around me, the most beautiful dream.
Me on the ground where no soul would gather.
Heaven in hell, as never seen
Hell in heaven, I was burning in sins.
Lucifer raped my innocence.
I found out when life taught me about my past.
He seduced me with a poison candy,
and introduced me to the world of sweet agony.
Lucifer turned my white dress, wine red.
The ribbons on my pony tails flew with the wind.
En VanoMiré el relojEn Vano4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Y el tiempo se me había perdido.
Miré el cielo
Y el azul celeste había desaparecido.
Cayeron mis sueños,
Pararon mis versos y la pasión de sus latidos.
Exiliados del arete corrieron sin rumbo,
Y mi brillo con ellos.
Y el valor de mi sello.
Exiliados del arte se fueron tan lejos.
Y me hiciste regresar la mirada,
A tus ojos, a tus consejos,
Al peso de tus años,
Al niño que llevas dentro.
Abrace el momento,
Besaste mis lamentos
Y entonces recordé
Recordé que nunca fue mío el tiempo.
Let's dreamCall me crazy! But he is teaching me how to smile.Let's dream5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Call me a dreamer! Because I'm making wings to fly.
Call me an idiot! And try to be as happy as I am.
Call me whatever, but I'm laughing at this life.
If you just knew that fairy tales exist.
If you just saw the truth in every of your dreams.
If you could just believe, you could learn how to feel.
If you could just see his glance, so in love, looking at me
May be then you could know this love is real
We are amazed when we look back and see,
Our worlds were so apart.
We are amazed when we lift our sight and see,
"You and me tonight"
We are amazed about how short the distance can be,
when you promise the sky.
You know, you have a smile I can't stop loving,
The way you look at me, it keeps me falling.
So baby, go ahead and love me,
Let this love be, don't try to catch me.
Hug me and kiss me without thinking it twice.
This dream is coming, baby close your eyes.
This dream is ours baby, lets hold hands.
Yeah, let's hold ha
CarruselCarrusel5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Era una fantasía de inocencia, esa espera por el carnaval de noviembre, aquel sueño que durante el año se le presenta a un inocente al pensar en caballitos blancos y música dulce, claros matices que pitan con su imaginación un mundo mejor. Veinticinco centavos en colones en ese entonces para volar por 20 minutos a un paraíso de magia y color pastel, para girar, subir y bajar en nubes hechas de plástico y tacitas de cartón, caballitos de tela y papel. La música y los espejos relucientes de luna modificada daban la sensación de que aquello era real. Ahí fue mis amigos cuando me enamore de la fantasía, del piano y el violín! De los unicornios, de las hadas, de las rosas cuya belleza es eterna y destellan brillantina multicolor a la luz de la luna que junto a las estrellitas cachetonas sonríen a los inocentes que sueñan y no dejan de soñar.
Todo se mezclaba misteriosamente con el olor a
Playing StrongI'm just a broken heart under a blue sky,Playing Strong4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A curious little baby who went, too far.
I'm growing up with every mistake
please let me fall until I get it right.
Would you blame a dreamer for dreaming?
Would you blame a writer for feeling?
Dare to accuse me for gambling,
You haven't seen the mountain I'm climbing.
The more my heart gets broken,
The more I get to know me.
By setting all the pieces,
I'm learning the right order.
This life is a whole theater,
And I'm the main character.
Sometimes I cry slat rives,
Sometimes I can't stop smiling.
And there you are, sitting,
Watching the show and drinking.
It's you who I'm reflecting,
With my tears you swear you are crying.
You see me at the backstage.
The steel became weak paper,
And you are amused by my acting.
Applause! Applause! For she's strong and fragile.
Your Last PoemLonely and in love...Your Last Poem4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lost in your eyes.
I was being dragged...
To hell in life.
You were my love, my reason to breath.
I love you I loved you and you couldn't see.
I begged you I served you and you made me bleed.
Now, I've ran out of tears.
My voice, my care, I destined them to you
Now docility has turn into stone,
You won't find me anymore.
Desperate in this maze, I found the cure.
I ran to you arms and trusted your heart.
Darling, you let me fall, you made me look back.
Losing myself in shadows, I lifted my sight
I gave up this pain, and made it through this night.
Oh you were this poor heart's inspiration.
You made it jump, you made it live.
You destroyed it and watched it bleed.
But I've found my redemption.
Archangel Daniel! My aim was to give you my life.
But I'm a sinner and I wasn't enough.
Even though, for you, I gave up my dawn,
Just to help you see the sun.
You crossed my chest with the dagger of rejection,
And let me know all you wanted was perfection.
Poet's inspirationThe poet is now dreaming under a star sky.Poet's inspiration5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The poet is now hiding, the monster withing her heart.
The poet is now laughing, things she can't do in life.
The poet is now dreaming, under a star sky.
Writing would be a sin, writing without words.
And crying is not allowed,
for there's just joy in the clouds.
Writing would be a sin, writing without a soul.
But night will end with the certain sun rise,
and her eyes will be open to the real life.
At the very mourning, she'll take a pencil to write.
She'll leave in that paper, her suffering and scars.
It's impossible for this poet to write out of happiness,
her words are black and white,
No matter who hard she tries,
the beauty is in her pain, and among the others' lies.
Kiss the poet and you'll kill her art,
hug her and she wont be able to write.
Make her bleed, make her cry,
grab and torture her heart, and her words will come to life.
The sun is now reflecting on the lake,
and her eyes are open, she is awake.
This is when the poe
Rainbows Without PurpleThat little girl, she was always drawing rainbows. Though the shape always changed slightly with each new picture, the general quality remained the same: six arching lines, growing smaller and smaller with each passing of the pencil, would appear on the once-blank canvas. Sometimes clouds would bolster the ends of the rainbows; sometimes the colors would stand alone in the sea of white.Rainbows Without Purple4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When she colored her creations, only five of the typical six rainbow colors would be invited onto the page: every color but purple.
Some people thought it strange, the lack of violet on the paper, others shrugged in passing, rationalizing that since purple is the bottom color in a rainbow's expanse, it is the easiest to overlook or the most difficult to notice.
One day her teacher asked that little girl why she never touched her purple colored pencil. The girl looked at her teacher, and in a monotone voice that a little girl should never have, she simply answered, "I hate the color purple."
The Canvas You Never LeaveI already chose the colors to fix this messy canvas. I also know the image I should define on it. I'm just missing the right brushes and the appropriate technique. And I keep dreaming of blue skies, fantasizing about wonder land, for how do you fix a messy canvas... when the oil paint is already dried? I wish I knew how to paint a new life. If I could I'd paint forgiveness over the blacks and grays you left with your departure. I wish I knew how to draw his smile over your twisted sight. I want to paint myself... enjoying life without you, over this awful pain your absence causes at night... to this lonely heart. I wish to change several definitions. Loneliness would mean, the moments when he is not here. Instead of being this... the moments when you are missing, for you are gone and never loved me. You painted what could hurt me. I would sketch a lost memory, the day I learned your name, the day I learned to live with you. That day I didn't learn how to forget. I dreamed weThe Canvas You Never Leave4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Pero que ironiaDesde hace un mes que te cree en el vientre de mi paranoia, desde hace un mes mi conciencia catastrófica fue el síntoma revelador de tu pronta existencia y por un mes, pase un eterno tormento. Me aparecías en sueños y yo estaba sola, sola con mis lágrimas en el banquillo de los acusados, frente al mundo y tú creciendo así como crecían mis miedos más profundos así como moría hasta el último suspiro de mi futuro. No estaba ni él, ni estaban ellos, era solo yo y tú creciendo, señalados por el dedo juzgador de lo impulsivamente llamado "correcto", apuñalados por mi adolescencia y falta de experiencia, atormentada por el "no debiste" y entre lagrimas, perdidos sin consuelo. Cuando mis ojos estaban abiertos y los momentos más felices de la época como bendiciones me acobijaban, yo las rechazaba por la depresión que las consecuencias de tu imaginaria existencia causaban. Yo eraPero que ironia5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
.x.:No More Room:.x..x.:No More Room:.x.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
To me my room represents my mind.
Im low on space and need to move onto a larger area.
Im taking in so much and have nearly no time to process it and select what is really important.
Its leaving me feeling cluttered and exhausted as a person and i'm slowly loosing my mind.
I know i am.
I can feel my reality slipping.
Theres just to much around me!
Its all moving so fast and i cant stop it.
No one ever has so why should i think i'm so special as to change that.
Life stops for no one.
You can try, but all you get is a photograph.
A candid shot of a hopefully prettier side of this journey.
I may not make a lot of sense to many people.
I have been told this before.
But for some reason, i don't want to change this.
This is Me.
Im a cluttered room, filled to the brim with unused ideas.
Unopened, unseen, uninhabited.
Waiting for the right person to find me.
See me, acknowledge me, want me.
And have the time and patience to explore me.
To wan to know me.
And share all the unknown things abo
Escritor WritterEscritor Writter5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Ser mágico cuya pluma dibuja el mundo, lo transforma y lo moldea a su imagen y semejanza.
Sus herramientas son el papel y la tinta. Con ellas construye realidades y ficciones, narra vidas y experiencias inmortalizándolas en papel para toda la eternidad; expresa los sentimientos y secretos que esconde y alberga el alma; nos dibuja una sonrisa o nos derrama una lagrima en las mejillas.
Poetas, artistas, simples escritores de toda edad y condición, dibujan nuestras existencias en el papel, en cada letra que trazan, en palabra que unen, en cada línea que componen. Gente común de un mundo común, que demuestra que la vida aunque no siempre sea color de rosas, si puede ser bella y hermosa ante los ojos del poeta y escritor. Aquel ser que ve el mundo con ojos de fantasía, de ilusión, de esperanza, de fe y que dislumbra a las personas con compasión y empatía.
Escritores, necesitamos escritores. Aquellos que nos digan que el sol
Cirrus BreakersSo feeling breakersCirrus Breakers5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pass the edge
of a cirrus strewn and circular sky
In another summer
in another place
I have that bed on which to lie
In grass and thoughts; a fading trace
Of watching you
behind an eastern air.
No ancient halls of Rome did speak
of beauty like your hair
That fell in spells and drew me down
still closer to your mouth
I keep these passing moments held
Of summers in the south
30 de julio30 de julio5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
30 DE JULIO
Nadie quiso decirme
que había abierto el telón antes de tiempo.
Tan lejos y tan cerca de la verdad,
temblando ante su sutil y amenazante presencia,
manejé las cuerdas que luchaban por huir.
Por más que doce años
separasen el comienzo de nuestras vidas,
compartimos aquella noche la dulce inocencia
de no percibir la oscuridad que el resto afirmaba notar.
Éramos tú y yo,
eran tus ojos clavados en los míos,
eran tus ojos pidiendo a gritos el final de la historia
el final soñado
el final que ha sido arrancado de raíz.
Siempre me he preguntado cómo lo viste tú,
si alguna vez entendiste por qué deseé
no haber alzado nunca la pesada cortina.
¿Debí haber esperado?
Pero siempre pensé que era la solución
Esa luna oculta por buitres negros.
Pequeña tú, yo no tan presente,
sin saber de dónde venían,
sin saber que echarían a volar para desgarr