A transient presence
that grants me vast happiness
visits this winter.
Because love is...Your skin is the canvas and you eyes are the stars
in this milky night where the moonlight reflects your smile
with frozen breath and pencils at hand here I lie
beholding your bare figure and every single golden hair strand.
Because love is inhibition.
My brush and the ink become one
resembling the love act we perform without any illumination but the fireflies glow
moans and cries fusing with the cicadas call, composing a novel nocturnal chant
likewise, the brush dexterously scraps away the delicate canvas, in a rough yet tender manner.
Because love is delight.
This art session is reaching its end
similar to our existences which someday may disappear as well
vanish into nothingness ----
Because love is eternity.
Looking up at the result
I can see nothing but a scribble; I have finally resolved this riddle!
extending your hand there you are
gazing at you, I finally realize.
Because love is understanding.
True Beauty cannot be depicted this way alone
Because love is partnership.
Thrilling journeyAwoke up with the taste of the deep anxiety in her throat.
Decided to finish this unworthy life
this human being approaches towards a lonely land
not wanting people around her.
She does not care about not locking up the door
she does not care about burglars
she does not care about the neigboors making a fuss of it.
She just runs. Far, far away from her present
as if for running her problems would vanish.
The life of this woman has been full of lies
tears were damping the sterile ground
she's uncertain about what awaits her in the future.
Fate is a shared cicle
You cannot interfere with it
if you attempt to, people's fate around you will change as well.
For every action there is a reaction and in turn, another reaction.
Suddenly, forests turn into a long shelter
her trembling legs and purple lips.
The sound of the crushed dry leafs
and the whisper of her breathing
sounds which are being recorded as her last memories.
She has not been sleeping for days
thou her body is showing
TsukihimeDe nuevo teñido de rojo
el salón de clases donde prometimos volvernos a ver
esa tarde no lloré...
estos hermosos recuerdos quería proteger.
Volver a gastar nuestro tiempo
haciendo cosas ínutiles
solamente una vez más
de nuevo nuestras miradas se encontrarán.
Memories that came along with the night
feelings which are felt over and over again
nonetheless, such things do not represent anything to me anymore
empty is my body and my mind as well.
Unwanted habits which never end
old faces that never fade
therefore, still having the grace of life, it is nothing worth to celebrate
I am not living, I am passing out.
Hatred growing inside me
heart bearing the darkness
despite being a human...
I am not as beautiful as one of them.
This is not nihilism
that is for people who threw away their emotions
a person that cannot feel being alive is not at fault
nor any one's burden, it is just emptiness.
I am like the sun
watching everyone living
I am like the moon
watching everyone dreaming.
Landing my sight through the sky
contemplating the starry overview
counting my days as stars
I do not see something new.
Nobody understands me
nor I hope for one to do
all I had to do is keep breathing
as the shell I am.
I do not mind opening my eyes
I do not mind
Love me some moreYou're there standing straight
of your eyes I'm watching the bright
I am letting all my inhibitions away
but I can't resist feeling this way.
Of your hair the grace
of your dress your brace
your steps towards me a route draw
only your presence makes me tame.
Hug me tighter
I can feel you breathing harder
your skin getting hotter
and your passionate heart is on fire.
Let the night get darker
let our bodies go further
because when the sun appears in the horizon
for love each other there is no reason.
Throw away your tenseness
kiss me fearlessly
shyness no more
all the night long...
love me some more.
El Puerto de VeracruzAquel puerto donde el mar nos saluda
y las nubes nuestras conversaciones murmuran
Aquel las gaviotas su ruta al horizonte trazan
y el solo a su gente abraza
Aquel puerto donde los crepúsculos son una hermosa ilusión
aquel puerto donde las tardes son bermellón
y las noches están llenas de pasión
Aquel puerto donde nací
donde mis más felices momentos viví
aquel puerto donde desembarcó Hernán Cortes
y a través de las historia es lo que ahora ves
Aquel puerto con su entrada al mundo
donde ni el más poderoso enemigo resistirse pudo
aquel puerto donde entre sus embarcaciones
sus tripulantes llevan en el corazón las ambiciones
Aquel barroco puerto
aquel puerto es mi utopía
¿Qué es esto?...
ah, era la caricia del mar que sentía.
July Haikuthonsmall white gypsy moths
scattered across dark curtains
create their own light
gardens of seaweed
floating under indigo
bloom into turquoise
a necklace of shells
lost among the grains of sand
treasure for mermaids
fireflies in jars
sitting on the window sill
lanterns in a row
when we both run in bare feet
and dream of childhood
red bobbing sailboats
orbiting the horizon
echo into blue
your sun kissed shoulder
veiled under the moon and stars
makes me yearn for night
the sun is setting
in a symphony of gold
and notes of amber
strong winds from the east
batter like a hurricane
and blow the man down
when the moon slips low
and glistens the night silver
i dream of your eyes
a slow hazy sky
burnished like a dark ruby
breaks the calm of june
climbing up toward the white clouds
vanish in the tide
under the old pier
we drank elderflower wine
and made sand angels
sand between my toes
disappears in the puddles
left by sudden rain
i watch th
press fireflies to
dirty ribcage, pulling
night's promise closer.
on lake surface to close eyes
you are a lullaby
i hear your voice
in the whisper
autumn's snowflakes fall,
touched by wind; ground is a blank
canvas to their shades.
mascara prints dawn pillows
found in leaves, hidden
skims the surface;
and children's laughter
wax tricked - becomes puddles.
only for you
a cry, a flash;
sprinkle the street
February Haiku 09-1-
flitting in the wind
the swallows are far from home
clothes fly by the dryer window,
backgrounds in a Roadrunner cartoon
trees paint their nails;
in cling film
of a snowman
by a girl in hot pants
not everything is black and white
buying frozen mince
in a knitted red jumper
windows in a block of flats
snow wilts into the mud;
squeezing under bridges;
roads fat with traffic
snowflakes on lashes
in the branches of trees
bent old men lost in the dark
in front of a cyclist;
diners fling crumbs
unsteady rhythm on the roof;
against the sky