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pull the silence was leaving gaps in the transition and transfer of that time forgot.
undertaken with the slow pace of the return route which would not be given.
those steps would be outstanding.
focus itself the taut strings of the bow.
Hendiría knee on the stone floor of the mole unrepentant.
spiral would be arranging fences in your mind.
march to drag along the track.
plaintiff would tear tracks on fine cambric cloth.
who approached him that day were words that embroiled their souls. That
thought of what happened.
Now I have to do dry, even if that happens cloth rubbing his eyes.
Nothing will be able to return to the point that he knew not endure.

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May 15, 2010

From 20 pm.

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Goya - Corrientes - Argentina

not miss your chance to find your way ...

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Submerged and immersed in the vagaries of death,
I pass the time, I take the silence,
the holy trinity black mark me with joy.
Pride lets not forget sacred,
back to the principles of the world, the body will be inert and
life make me strong.


Betwen in the mysteries of solitude, I sit back and see
others grow old, forgotten
recalling the morning, between the electric company, a radio all volume;
Arrasando by dreams, come see your breath, I will turn away of hope,
start dancing will be in vain if the forgetting is the ash
the days are gone ...


mumbling a prayer, a hymn, a father who have to bring our wisdom
come the visions of the past years and travel and love forgotten
time remunerated Who Crazy Aging does in others?
yet be faded I will continue intact and inert.
Your honor the essence distant exorcising memory, forgetting ...

Shut up, sit down to hear screams and moans then return
hysteria desire
the death that has forgotten the pleasure of our bodies;
abolish the desire of my body to have you on reaching adulthood,
and know the limits of life without identity,
naked our bodies will age to others ...


off of my body was stroking for you,
sobbing in my men spoke impossible,
because everyone knows best.
And I'll be old and forgotten in your mind every day,
lose my identity as sleeping forever
in Alzheimer's or amnesia, and deranged silent
between sterile moments which enrich the land;
I gird your legs only once, and look at me just this once
before the light extinguished the day, because I will not be in your flesh,
seeing old others to get lost in hours of darkness,
between rocks that are colder and all grow old in your memory contention
now and makes me forget my history ...

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reborn

reborn every lap of the day
on cold mornings or quiet
the wind whistles in the blast huge
of a smile. My bones


spin the flag of a cherry tree in spring
and I am reborn, mother
in open view of the sunrise.

Mónica López Bordón

* Del libro "Myths Azules"

Cuadro * John William Godward

http://vivirparacontarlaconpoesia.blogspot.com

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Today
debris floating in the soul desires pink
stellar ashes
crumbs blue violet dreams ...

senses sparkle
solto
farelo cores of luas and letter ...


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A lighted candle
guide me down the road off,
death and the uncertain fate
invalidating sparingly,
repentance impetus
challenging anoint my head
with the sacred oil of wolves
with red wine from this cup shredded
as the rope that hangs and
swings like a child in his crib
numb and dazed

children's magic and the Gods
of religions Greek, Egyptian,
pagan, Catholic and Christian
not understand the problem rite
that becomes legendary in the metropolitan capital
If juveniles are riding in a flurry of
yellow twilight.

'm not kid is April. Ravaged by my
guitar wails and sobs as heat in each
lost note at this time, bouncing risky
with desire and endless new bride and lights are
the woman of my dreams ...


'm ghost in your past, was the one who discovered eternal
secrets of your life, in the vast wisdom of
night I was your apprentice who wakes up early adulthood and is happy.

In a cry of despair at the ancestors
the hermit penumbra is confused
desire and power persuaded to take the hidden universe
my feet, give up on your body orgasms
deadly lie in your eyes, in carnal desires and
spells away from witches and their evil ...

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TO SHARE WITH YOU! As the sleeping water



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Reunions

Born panic in villages
and madness are buried anxieties
a day of reunions in
God bottles of wine in
black sky hides
lost the heroic moments
that marginalize ourselves ...

Like a withered flower you lie
on this earth, as the distress lasts
and the midday sun fall into madness.

melancholic girl end of stories,
novels of childhood, awakens from
my arms.
see your waist, your eyes wonder
entered a dance, feel the heat
in your lap while our bodies
melt and with the looks we get
pieces ...


But that is the wonder of the encounter,
wonder if there are girding our internal
hair falling down the years
They are gray, they are old experiences
that mark!.
you as volcanic rock erupted
burning desire for eternity, who raises
from the dead, the lost, but the
feeling there has always been my girl .. .


The reunion prompts us to lose my mind
and fall into the temptation to succumb between words
and canteens.
we lose Dionsíacamente
in praise pagan
two bottles of red wine have to satisfy our desire.
We flesh, we are blood, we hanmbre
of experience, we sat reunion
in the tomb of the past, we are the living;
now we are only memory of love
the adolesciencia ...