Etiqueta: Poetry

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Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense To beloved ones

Lusciously unknown

crop faceless couple holding hands on balcony
Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Twice in life,

pleased I’d be to pretend we’ve met,

to forget thencefore.

Just to be

the first one,

to erase any of your smile’s memories.

Then,

a second meeting,

to love again what I’ve never met before.

Since forgotten.

For you,

are no more than unknown.

And what I love is an obsession of my imagination.

Nothing more.

Someone made up,

close to real men.

Yet, always gone by faked faded wishes.

All collected.

All withered.

Besides copied verses;

all in awe,

all in vain and hopeless.

Indeed insane,

every night I were to kiss your insubstantial whole,

somewhere a place blue birds sing,

to find you once again in alien and foreign lands of dream.

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Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense To beloved ones

Stranded

crop faceless couple holding hands on balcony
Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

The longer I look at you,

even from afar.

The most I’d like to squeeze your heart,

orphan from your breast.

To claim it,

 as mine and no one else.

Break you to strayed lost shreds of daylight.

That’ s the way,

I want to kiss your frozen smile.

A cada parpadeo que se traga un segundo más de ti,

aún desde lejos.

Y más deseo,

hacer huérfano de tus costillas,

el órgano que te bombea la vida.

Separarte en tantas hebras,

deshiladas de luz de día.

Así, para besar congelada tu risa.

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Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense To beloved ones

Giggle

crop faceless couple holding hands on balcony
Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Dancing fair light,

following a beat of wind and sky,

you are that name for me.

My only wish to be.

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Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense To beloved ones

I’ll be barking to luck

crop faceless couple holding hands on balcony
Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

I’ll be barking to luck,

Until she sends you back alone.

I’ll be looking at the sky at night,

Then wish to bling bling stars,

their dust made up a trail path.

I’ll be asking to the sun, the moon and planets,

one place for me to arrive.

I’ll be friendly and loyal;

whatever takes you in a trap of mine.

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Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense To beloved ones

My colleague

black and white boys children curiosity
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

How good it is to have a rival

whom in competition with,

makes you forget the worst within.

Hence the trail of successful tries,

either failures, crap or treats,

they sigh and dance.

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Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense To beloved ones

Shall we wait?

crop faceless couple holding hands on balcony
Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Shall we wait for your return?

Oh, my darling summer breeze.

Even when shy,

I would gladly take my time in a sloppy lazy mood,

waiting for you.

Oh my pair of beautiful gold eyes!

You who stole my heart and pride!

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Penpal Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense

Penpal no. 17

blank letter paper with envelope near dried sprig
Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com

Slow, slow.
I’ve hurried before.
Avoidant or needy,
I want to change my old self.
I’d love to be steady.
Even if not ready.
Thus letters are better.
A bit dragging my feet,
A bit moving on.
Sometimes it’s not fun.

Lento, lento.

Me apresuré antes.

Seca o encimosa,

Deseo cambiar mi viejo ser.

Ser un poco más constante,

Si es que no estoy lista aún.

Así, las cartas me van bien.

Un poco arrastrando los pies.

Un poco hacia adelante.

A veces, divertido no es.

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Penpal Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense

Penpal no. 2

wood handwritten art dirty
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Whenever I think no more

For it doesn’t come with doubt and yet I hope.

For it is a pleasing sight to know I am.

A slice of life you take out from time.

Specially since you, a freaky freak I know;

would be tucked away under snow.

Can I learn to waltz this life away from you?

Y cada vez que creo que ya no

Llega sin duda y aún así deseo.

Porque es placentero ver que estoy,

Un rato de tu tiempo en tu cerebro.

Especialmente porque tú, un monstruo tierno;

Estaría enterrado bajo nieve.

¿Puedo dejarte solo a pasos de baile?

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Penpal Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense

Penpal no. 1

blank letter paper with envelope near dried sprig
Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com

When it is not on my table,

I look far away.

But once it’s there,

white and squared,

I can’t help my contempt and hate the carrier.

For I wish I wasn’t so lorn of your read, my love.

I expect and spend.

I weave and wait.

My heart a butterfly when I know it’s arrived.

Then, embarrassed,

I think I should leave it to rest.

Si no está sobre la mesa,

Miro más allá.

Una vez en ella,

Blanca y esquinada,

Sin lograrlo,

termino por odiar a quien la trajo.

Tanto espero esa lectura, amor.

Que con expectativas y deseo.

Tejo y espero.

Una mariposa, mi corazón cuando llega.

Luego, avergonzada,

La dejo para otra vez.

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Palabras Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense

Cosmos

close up of pink cosmos flowers
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Palabras no. 60

Tras las primeras lluvias,

tiernos helechos disfrazados de arbustos.

Con la humedad que viene,

se convierten en un bosque de hechizos rosas, blancos.

Balanceándose en la brisa o con las cosquillas de los canarios.

Olas de mar que impiden llegar más allá ó,

enredesijos enmarañados de jungla.

La carretilla ya la atoré y su contenido…ya ves.

Más enojosos que hermosos.

Aunque también,

una elección muy vibrante,

para un jardín inglés.