No sé si a ti, pero a mi me gustan los sorteos. Y este me tiene muy entusiasmada. Te cuento que he encontrado cositas que van a la par con mi novela Obsesión. ¿Qué no la has leído? Aquí te dejo el enlace para que la puedas obtener y te sumergas en una historia de fantasía y ciencia ficción de una realidad alterna inspirada en la civilización taína. Volviendo al sorteo.Sigue leyendo
Thresholds to new beginnings,
to an end, to the unexpected.
Structures stating the limits.
Architectural moving compositions.
Square, round, top arched.
Red, blue, black…
Wooden, Metal, Crystal…
Hybrids like our hearts.
Our entrances, our exits.
This post was inspired by The Photo Challenge by The Daily Post: Door.
It is anguish.
It is hope.
Is desire gone in a thought…
The separating thin line.
An unknown stare.
Unread words that drown…
It is a none believer.
A hyprocrite’s care.
The constant avoidance.
Journey through stormy neurons.
It is the toxicity of a cigarette.
Inhale, not filtered.
Exhale, not solidified.
The next step.
The might be.
The paralyzing sting.
It is not to expect.
Let go, embrace.
Knowingly dive in!
for real this time
like keyboards replacing pens
screens replace lined canvas
now decorated in vibrant hues of positive vibes, anticipations and barriers broken
no longer smeared by random thoughts, heartbreaks and unfulfilled dreams.
the new organized chaos.
scattered visions float like unpieced puzzles
authentic God sent reverie.
the forces have aligned,
spirit has been revived, eagerly anticipating the next trail
she’ll tag with syllabic tongue prints
agonizingly contorting minds
making them wish they were double-jointed.
no longer suffocated by the panic
she’s modified her manipulation of thought.
they can’t get you if it really don’t faze you,
negated conquest not no matter how hard they try.
no longer necessary to look to the sky for approval and acceptance
as it now lives in her, on her, through her.
she has been humbled, once again,
by HIS welcoming arms opened as wide as the first time she sought HIM
17 years back.
she’s reminded that HIS gift is food for the soul to be digested and absorbed
not wasting on her as it has been for way too long.
finally returning to the connection of her soul’s roots
with Zen-like serenity
she writes sans a puff, sans a swig
soul in spread eagle vulnerable beyond cognition
never felt so good,
All rights reserved by Bernice Sosa
Bernice Sosa is a Nuyorican writer, educator, linguist and mother of two. She has contributed work in the past to Poesý 2010 and Poesý 2012, Pa’lante Latino and Letras II (an online literary publication at NY Hunter College’s Center for Puerto Rican Studies), and the first virtual and live stream coverage of the National Puerto Rican Day Parade 2014 . She has also had the opportunity to share her words at the legendary Nuyorican Poet’s Café, Capicu Poetry and Cultural Showcase in Brooklyn, NY and the First Annual New York Poetry Festival (NYPF). Sosa is currently on hiatus from online publishing and is working on her first book.
Here is her poem for our Fantasy Theme, enjoy.
¿Quienes son ustedes?
Por un buen rato, han perdido la fe.
Hija de Dios,
empezaron a creer que nunca nos iba a regresar.
He tenido que luchar más fuerte por ti.
Disculpe, es que mi vida…
Pero ya el no está, y tu lista para escuchar.
Te he dado por respetar, por más que te haya costado.
Miedo, vergüenza, secretos derretidos.
La libertad cura almas heridas.
Tu equipo celestial te guarda
Sigue recibiendo nuestros besitos de mariposa:
estampas de amor lloviendo
en huellas alumbradas
colocada en tu rostro
silenciosamente, mientras suenas.
Alma consiente, alma despierta.
…gracias a todos.
Ya no te encuentres arrodillada en el suelo
en posición de vientre, gritando ” ¿Por qué “,
tras ríos de llanto
buscando relleno para tu supuesta vacío.
Ya no te encaracole
muda, con agonía.
Ni paralizada, destrozada con alma esclavizada.
Ahora alas sabio, obedientemente, esperan nuestra instrucción,
lista para navegar.
Dale y remonta el vuelo y brilla sin miedo, Mechita.
All rights reserved by Bernice Sosa
A second taste on Rich Villar’s poetry: “Headstones” is an elegy for my sister and the boys and girls that my family and I found buried alongside her, too young, at a cemetery in New Jersey in 2007.
East Ridgelawn Cemetery
Passaic, New Jersey, April 2007.
Pop is reading headstones.
Catechism rises in him
from somewhere long buried.
The litany of saints inside his cheek:
Jorge Antonio González. Marisol Vélez.
He stops and reads
one black slab adorned
with the Dominican flag.
Angel Luis Gutierrez. 1987-2006.
He says it out loud: nineteen.
Something says to mark this.
His exhale is five hundred years.
We came to mark the anniversary
of my sister’s death. Lillies, a white planter.
A tulip bulb. Ten smooth stones in a circle.
Now we stand on freshly turned earth, reciting
the names of boys and girls who should be home,
home. Right now, tasting soup,eyes closing at the sudden sun,
or remembering last night’s kissed lips,
running and not running, making a mess.
Three grandchildren make noise in the cemetery.
We leave stones to mark our presence.
A groundskeeper waits to clear them away.
All rights reserved by Rich Villar
A second tasting of Michael Muller’s poetry which is a plea for hope. Enjoy!
In It For The Haul
Feeling tired and
working along day
having taught my
It is not my students
that exhaust me
they actually inspire
my mind to come
What is most exhausting
is seeing and hearing
from the many who
think that all is
So many just let
life get the best of
them as if THEIR best
is in the long gone
So many let issues
of long past events
dwell as if
they still have
So many let issues
linger due to
so many lay guilt
blind to seeing the real
truth of others innocence
while the true problem lies
in their own
caused by self denial
of their own irrelevance!
Inspiration let me
let the toxic past
so that my future dreams will
let only treasured lights
All rights reserved by Michael Muller
It’s Poesý 20/10 season again!
Welcome back, friends, to Poesý’s August 2014 Edition. The theme for this year is Fantastic (or fantasy) Poetry and we have three great poets who took the challenge and wrote amazing poetry inspired by our Fantasy Theme. Poesý is welcoming back Michael Muller and Bernice Sosa, and new comer to our event Rich Villar. You will learn more about them during the event that starts tomorrow. On the first day, you’ll read their Fantasy poem and on the second, a free theme one.
An introduction to Fantastic Poetry is at hand, which has been part of our literature for the longest time. It is part of the genre of Speculative poetry, which “focusses on fantastic, science fictional and mythological themes. It is also known as science fiction poetry or fantastic poetry. It is distinguished from other poetic genres by being categorized by its subject matter, rather than by the poetry’s form. Suzette Haden Elgin defined the genre as about a reality that is in some way different from the existing reality (Wikipeida)”.
Here are two examples of this genre, so you can get a sense of it.
J. R. R. Tolkien is one of my favorite authors, he also was a poet and you may find some of his Fantasy Poetry in his books. This one is so beautiful and has a serene flow to it:
In western lands beneath the Sun
The flowers may rise in Spring,
The trees may bud, the waters run,
The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe ’tis cloudless night,
And swaying branches bear
The Elven-stars as jewels white
Amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey’s end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
Beyond all towers strong and high,
Beyond all mountains steep,
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the Stars farewell.
– See more at: http://allpoetry.com/
This second one is from William Allingham and it has a Gothic style, still is considered fantastic.
A fair witch crept to a young man’s side,
And he kiss’d her and took her for his bride.
But a Shape came in at the dead of night,
And fill’d the room with snowy light.
And he saw how in his arms there lay
A thing more frightful than mouth may say.
And he rose in haste, and follow’d the Shape
Till morning crown’d an eastern cape.
And he girded himself, and follow’d still,
When sunset sainted the western hill.
But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,
Weary day! – the foul Witch-Bride.
See more at poemsofthefantastic.com
Hope you enjoy this season of Poesy 20/10 August 2014 Fantastic Poetry and don’t forget to share it with your friends and social media. Thanks for joining us! And remember from inspiration to the written word.
A. R. Román
Una reciente visita a los terrenos cercanos al Fuerte San Felipe del Morro, sirvió de inspiración para la consigna del miércoles pasado. Fue un día de diversión, de amigos y de sol. Aún llevo en la piel la marca rosada de ese día. Aquí les dejo lo escrito, que lo disfruten ;). Gracias por visitar.
Se ensanchaba la tierra forrada de grama torturada por el candente sol y las pisadas humanas, sino fuese por el antiguo fuerte y sus extremidades robustas, se desparramaría sobre el líquido turquesa y salado que le rodea y sirve de plataforma naval. En el maremoto acústico navegaban el resultado jovial de cientos de cuerdas vocales. Se inhala alegría infantil y adulta, y el aire… El aire cálido sabe a sal. La cúpula celeste es revestida por una explosión colorida de chiringas que surcan con gracia y desde la planicie terrenal la mano siente la tensión que ejerce el viento y lucha contra ella.
Hasta la próxima y recuerda de la inspiración a la palabra escrita .
A. R. Román