Corazón

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Had to repost.  WordPress had trashed this post.

Corazón is heart in Spanish. It is also used to address one’s beloved as “my heart” or the equivalent of our “sweetheart.”

Marisposa means butterfly. But it is the name of the Cuban national flower (pictured below).

Corazón

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Earrings swaying like maracas
As the scent of Mariposas filled the air
My Corazón crooned so lovingly
A Caribbean breeze of lyrics
Blew through my yearning hairs

She ignited a bonfire of passion
With her Spanish lullaby
A hymn that came from up above
As angelic goose bumps danced on my skin
Sashaying to her tender love

My heart were her bongos
Intoxicating words drenched with nourishment
Are more vital than the air I breathe
Corazón whispered loving words to the world
As she serenaded me with her poetry.

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Today’s post was inspired by Nandita’s live recitation of Pablo Neruda poetry in Spanish and English. (It was the first time I heard her sexy accent speaking Spanish). Should you wish to hear the poem here is the link.

nanditayata.wordpress.com/…/recitation-of-love-sonnet-no-17-pablo-neruda

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Photo of beautiful Nandita.

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The White Ginger (Hedychium coronarium) called “Mariposa” in Cuba, is a native flower of India but it has become so common in the island that it has been selected as the national flower.

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Silence Screamed Your Name

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Earlier today, I woke up searching for a good morning message from my Baby.  When I found none, I wrote her a few separate messages.  Hours passed with no reply. This little thing was born during those moments of worry.

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Silence Screamed Your Name

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Today I awoke

when silence screamed your name.

Now, I lay here in fear

of never having you,

and distraught that

tomorrow

silence may

do the same.

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Please, don’t do that to me again Baby.

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Photo of beautiful young lady from Google Images.

My Crescent Moon

Moon

My Crescent Moon

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She believes she came from the dark side
Never realizing she descended from the stars
More stunning than the rings of Saturn
She radiates a love as red as Mars

I admire her imperfect little craters
Loving every phase unless she’s blue
She will forever be my crescent moon
Longing to be new

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My beautiful Poetry Whisperer was feeling a little down during our conversation on Friday.  Hopefully, this Saturday morning surprise will lift her spirits.

(Yes, baby, I left the five o’clock shadow for you).

Introducing N. To My Mother in Heaven

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Introducing N. To My Mother In Heaven

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Hey, Mom, How are things up in heaven?………………What?!……………They play bingo up there?

Look, I’m calling you to tell you I met this girl……………Yes, another girl…………….But she is different. You will like her……….Yes, I know I said this before, but she is special……………..Yeah, I know I’ve said this, too…………,,,…Are you rolling your eyes?

How is she different? Well, first she is very smart…………….Hey, what do you mean I don’t like smart girls?……………….Yeah, sure I’ll name you a few. How about er……………er………………then, there was…………….SIGH……………… Okay, okay, I get your point.

Well, she is beautiful, a talented poet and speaks 6 languages. Yeah 6…………………No Ma, Spanish isn’t one of them…………..The whole world doesn’t have to speak Spanish…………………Yes, I am teaching her.

Her name is Nandita. …………….. No, she isn’t Cubana………………. Yeah, her name ends with “ita” but that doesn’t mean she is Latina.

Jesus Christ, Mom. Yes, she eats rice………………………..Ooops, sorry about that. Hope the big guy didn’t hear me.

You always said laughter and love are the things that matter most. You always told me love is sacrificing the “me” for the “we.” Nandita believes that, too.

No, I haven’t met her yet…………… Hay, Dios Mio………… Tragedia??? This is not a tragedy.

The heartbreaking part is not that I haven’t met her yet; it is the fact that you never will…….,,………How will Nandita know what a wonderful mother you were? How will you know what a great wife she will be?

Sniffle, sniffle…………….No, Ma, I am cutting up some onions.

Yes, I brush after every meal.

Thank you for your blessings. It really means so much.

I miss you, too.

haunting memories of her

 

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Drink enough wine and combine them with lonesome thoughts and your mind can conjure anything.  Monday night, thoughts about what would happen to me if my precious Baby said goodbye, plagued me.  This is a product of that dispirited mood.  Something very different.

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haunting memories of her

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her absent love hangs heavily
like the dusty drapes in an abandoned mansion
forbidding hope to enter
forever entombing me in darkness

white blown kisses float aimlessly
appearing as wandering apparitions
chanting unanswered questions
in search of eternal light

pale ghosts of affections lost, torment me
dragging my unrequited carcass
burying me alive with haunting memories of her
in a tomb I could never escape

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Don’t worry.  Love is on the menu for tomorrow.

Photo Credit:  ghost of love 2 by marcianus

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Your Love Rains Poetry Over Me

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Your Love Rains Poetry Over Me

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In search of the sweetest oasis
I’m parched from drinking sand
After an arid life sadly roaming
Lonely deserts as love demands

Your arrival was a major storm
As wet metaphors matted my hair
And a precipitation of pink passion
Left us a quivering shivering pair

Douse me with your tender verses
As your love rains poetry over me
Immersed in the bliss of your oasis
Let your downpour deliver ecstasy

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Photo Credit:  Don’t ask.