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happy seventeen The words



Your memories are measured with seventeen staff kept less secret

that one of my days
walk between illusion and dreams pinned Among
disagreement of mist and unknown
disappointments

The beautiful face
The restless eyes like candles
deployed in search of what life still hides you


Tu soul is not tired, or your star has become pale
Fulgura hopeful to meet
puppy love games and still unknown pleasures

My girl with red hair and perfect smile
How far I am in your budding spring!
I feel inside me avatars
a barren sky

and the avalanche of darkness only hinted


No time for sorrow

Your harvest is just beginning, I know where you stand firm
And the nectar of success awaits you smiling

live in hope or project
Open your eyes and look to the horizon
Plant trees, draw Flirt
soles in the mirror
children dreams, loves and frantically
oh my beautiful granddaughter
keep my rhymes when I
is only in your memory.

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Verushka

Some of our words are strong, free, yellow,
other round, flat, wooden ...
Behind all is the Atlantic. Eugenio
Montejo


I like playing with words, strung together, to take their own life. Imposed and brought me the road. Complicit in my fantasies. When the lines, one after the other, I want his contagious magic, to bring their own pace, with the pace needed to, being read or heard, say and say exactly what they mean. Not produce confusion.
not easy work. There are rebellious words, these are deducted from my desires and become obnoxious, out of context. These are the words that escape me, guided by the demons of emotions. Which, ever said or wrote in moments of anger, pain, or after suffered a betrayal.
There are also words of "others." Those who know the sublime that may constitute a kind word and seek the flattery or even worse the insult by humiliation, with phrases that detract. Very different to the presence of words in the hands of a poet who teaches us how great it can be to their beauty, even those that seem insignificant.
mark words for those who say, either in verbal or written, who is as a person, what is your outlook. Who worship or under what blanket hide their baseness.
open language understanding and helps us not only in the expression but in knowledge. It is the magic key that gives us the opportunity to express the entire range of our feelings. I do not remember who said "We are slaves our own words and our silence," but he was right.
admit that I like a few words, but others fill me with fear, or hate. The latter are not even big words, some to the everyday lexicon, but I avoid it. Them fled to the cowardice of a deserter.
I fear, from hundreds to injustice, denial, amputation, body, blindness, jealousy, alms, cataclysm, slander, greed, misery.
hate; greed, laziness, anger, brutality, infamy, aristocrat, mistake, condition, conditions, frustration, prohibited.
I like freedom, friendship, hope, tenderness, understanding, solidarity, aspiration, bravery, courage, sincerity, loving, eternal, agreement, peace, feeling, health.
But above all there is the word I like, which moves all things, and leads us to make the impossible becomes possible, which intoxicates and transforms us, leading us down the paths of miracle, and that can not be other than LOVE capitalized, italicized, underlined and in bold.
I like that she is qualified by the right adjective, that he put his hand a broad substantive, or magnify content. That is human love, divine, brotherly, the country, the ideals, work, values.
ever want to write with words that have not forgotten

to walk alone and know the road.
What are light weight
and I raise to infinity.
ever, ever,
erase what I wrote and let
to perpetuate the silence.

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Afternoon light



threats of rain, which preoccupied the members of the group "Vision" for the scheduled time for your meeting, had dissipated and later became perfect. Words filled with the pleasant sheltered in reading the book of Ana María Velázquez I thought I would kiss before leaving.
are fifteen stories in which the voice of the author reels, slides with language that leaves no poetry, or images that we are leading by the hand to go landscapes, situations and characters, as if instead of a pen that writes it had a film camera and scanned into the recesses of the female soul. Women whisper stories, internalize their feelings and release them on the fly to exploit, but not aggressively, but like soap bubbles. The book
with a special structure is overwhelming and very literary narratives such as "Macanao" combined with poems, diary sheets and even a special one dedicated to Frida Kahlo, which refers to this being tormented, he lived his own tragedy and as a mythical character was no redemption but through the visual arts. In others, speaking mainly to the absence or loss of love. The reluctance to end a relationship, but leaves enough strength to know that there is no turning back, as that gives the title to the book and ends with a tear and firmness:
I can only stomach or body to put this relationship. I do not want.
I only offered you the word, the verses and rhymes.
Arbeláez White presenter, friend and supporter of the work of the author, accompanied us and illustrated in his career that includes the publication of the storybook With open eyes (2008), co-author of research trials the feminine from the cultural diversity of the Americas (2,008) and a book of literary criticism Two writers address the critical (2006), and their participation and collaboration in various magazines and newspapers.
hereby publish the photos on facebook and this, in which I share with the author Ana María Velázquez and the writer also Krina Ber, testifying to a pleasant chat and do not forget that the invitation for the next meeting will be attended by Ana Teresa Torres to tell us about your book The history of the tribe.