Angel loan

She filled my days
She came to me lent by angels
never to be mine,
a loan of lively hope

Of this heavenly gift
I have no words to portray
young girl, young lady, young woman
time went by like a lightning ray

It seems like yesterday
when I heard her sing, only once
she was embarrassed, I was proud
mosaic memories of her smile

when she turned fifteen
I taught her how to drive
I was a nervous wreck
But her laughter eased my fears

she used to dance with a silly face
swinging her hips like “I told you so”
Her laughter soothed my doubts
And in those moments my troubles were gone

Now she is grown
opening her wings preparing to fly
she will go to someone else’s land
and then, in silence
watching the moon,
I will hear her laughs in my soul
for she is an angel on loan

A poem written by a friend

Child abuse by mactownlady my name is bethy i am three my eyes are swollen i can not see. my little feet hurt really bad its because of the burns of daddys cigar ash i'm a bad little girl, daddy always says. thats why my butt stays so red. i press my self against the wall to try and make it down the hall. shhh be quiet don't wake daddy! oh no! i spilt my sippy cup! he's not gonna be happy. i think the belt.... had left too many whelps. i heard them say i couldn't take it anymore. thats why i dropped to the floor. it doesn't hurt anymore and i feel free because my name was bethy... i was three... that night my daddy murderd me.

trust issues

Fear builds walls of what houses are made of
Some will open the doors to let someone in
Some will close them to keep others away
Some houses don’t have doors

Lost

Was it the game,
or this melancholic hesitation?
Liquid touch on the skin,
and the inevitable frustration.

My name is now lost.
They nurtured my pain,
so I escaped from the ordeal
I wasn’t ready to pay

Yes, I must have corrupted
that innocent expectation…
Conned into growing faster,
a maze of misinterpretation.

Disrupted screen philosophers
giving life to one’s darkness
with a pack of lies labyrinth,
only to conceal the madness.

I offered an open heart.
Born with an unwritten mind,
filled with the wisdom of gods
only to be fed by all those lies.

A part of me now understands
why did I lose that basic notion…
Misleading learned truths,
money, power and distinction.

Here I am, trying to feel love,
"not to feel alone" misconception,
overrated search of yet another
spoiled sense of perception.

So, what is it that I want?

VISIT: Gotpoetry.com

Legacy

I hate.
Frustration in a prayer...

I wish my fists were enough,
I want to challenge life...

(not mine but nature’s)

Have a sense of where things are fair,
but destiny is tough

when hands scratch for cents and dimes

(An illogical god has been sold)

I pray only to self-deceive my impotence.
I can’t understand sickness in the mind
and the roll of jungle law on my land.

True creed remains as an ambivalence

What is good or right?

(The Books were written long before our time)

A contradiction to what now is at hand:
Love = build. Sin = destroy.

(and in between everybody is lost)

So this brings me back to those laws of the jungle...

(more or less nature’s)

Get what you want (need), that which is sold.

(media slaves)

No matter if inside you feel annoyed.
Cover yourself from shame with a golden bangle

(isn’t jewelry dumb, really, what’s it for?)

Happiness is just an invention of fairytales told.

Keep thinking that prestige, money and power are your goal...
And in the process...

get a divorce, cheat, step on others’ toes

(the jungle law)

History now proves that children’s inheritance is to become better than you.
Building destruction is something I can’t stop...

Frustration.

Hate.

For you

For you I could try to tame the words,
and let a poem grow.
Take a piece of my mind and let you go,
but you will always be in my heart.
Pretty blue eyes.
There is a place for us,
---------- It is where our dream grows,
----- Nobody can take that hope
---- As long as we can feel love

CELOS

No ha sido mucho tiempo, años,

que no me ganaban los celos

creí que los había dejado enterrados

ahí donde mueren los deseos

quién pudiera saber amar tranquilo

manos calladas y en paz

sin tener que estar envuelto de sigilo

sin poder dormir, o al menos, descansar

Gritando en silencio esas preguntas

que ni el eco quiere saber de ellas,

tal vez tu si las escuchas

o quizá se pierden en las estrellas.

Y al no recibir respuesta

o conocer de tu paradero

se aleja mi alma dispuesta

a buscarte en los esteros,

praderas, bosques, o adonde sea

No saber que haces me llena de duelo

me atrapa de desvelos

y no puedo controlar mis celos

JEALOUSY

It has not been too long, years

since I was overwhelmed with jealousy

I thought I had it buried

where all desires go to die.

Who is able to love quietly,

silent hands and peacefully,

without been wrapped in stealth

helpless to sleep, or at least, rest?

I Silently yell those questions

that not even the echo wants to hear;

maybe you want to listen to

or maybe they get lost among the stars.

As I don’t receive an answer

or know of your whereabouts,

my soul departs willing

to look for you in the estuaries,

prairies, woods, wherever.

Not knowing what you do

gives me this mild grief

trapping me in that insomnia

where I can’t control my jealousy

ASI ERES....

Tibio remanso donde se dibuja un arroyo
donde arrullado descanso..

Un poema que describe un paisaje

como tema de mi alegría y romance

Inspiración de pasajes y versos
donde la ilusión ilustra un beso para ti

Eres una sonrisa que me vuelve ladrón,
quisiera poner por aval al corazón
para que me defienda cuando ladrón
te robe un beso.... ¿Me atrevería?
Que más miedo me da ofenderte
que el quedarme sin besarte...

Eres mirada inocente que me vuelve valiente
Donde retos son pocos si por ellos te gano
Que todo puedo darte menos el candente
deseo de tenerme. Cuando impaciente tu mano
busco, porque eso tu me lo has dado.
Pero ten como tuyas todas mis cosas a tu lado.

Eres estampa sensual que mi paz invade
y escultor me he vuelto y por nicho mi mente
que ahí estatuas de diosa he creado para verte
figura fina y justa, que mis pensamientos inquietas
Si a tu capricho ser tu amante pudiera
Mas gustaría de tu extasis que lo que yo sintiera.

Eres mis poemas que escribes cuando me inspiras
Virtudes de alegría, cuando en el silencio dirías
cosas dulces para que yo te las escriba
que el silencio y la soledad son compañía
que creaste para que tu recuerdo escriba poesía
pensamientos, amor, caricias, deseos y alegrías.

Eres el mundo de mis encantos, ¿cómo definirte?
si la palabra amor pudiera definir, si al decirte
tu nombre, lo que nombro es amor, entonces tu eres la definición
de lo que siento; y las palabras solo son
intentos vanos por reflejar lo que mi corazón
ve en ti, sentimientos prendidos de tu razón.

Así eres... más allá de mis palabras
Porque poeta no soy suficiente para poner en letras
lo que eres tu, que el diccionario no ha puesto
defincición valedera que me enseñe a decirte
todo lo que eres en mi corazón....
Así eres...