when i inhale your poetry

Today, I am happy to annouce Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, a wonderful book from my precious friend Gabriela of Short-Prose-Fiction has been published. Always rich in vivid images and powerful metaphors, her poetry and prose will leave you breathless.

Order Here!

Speaking of breathless, here is a little poem I wrote for the occasion…..

when i inhale your poetry

when i inhale your poetry
i exhale melancholy syllables
leaving the atmosphere breathless
from your words
the heavens slowly appear
in your bedroom like a lonely apparition
as i blow winter auroras
through the autumn of your hair
leading to our first kiss
below the echo of a metaphor
where we watch moon glow
escape our trembling lips
in a misty sigh
of love

Inspiring Women of WordPress: beautifully broken you

I will try to revitalize my series of Inspiring Women of WordPress with a monthly post.

“There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness.” – Sharon L Adler, inspirational author of 300 Questions To Ask Your Parents Before It’s Too Late.

Life has an amazing way of touching us. During these months of illness and recovery, my precious friend Rachel of In Mind and Out, has reached out to me in my loneliest moments, lifting my spirits. We often joke about being “broken.” This wonderful poet and caring woman fails to see the beauty of her imperfections as her brokenness helped repair mine. Please, get to know Rachel, one of the Inspiring Women of WordPress.

beautifully broken you

fragments of a mirror
reflecting multiple moons in the night
making the parts
more beautiful than the whole
fractured sunsets
of healing warmth and light
in need of an ointment of poetry
to cure a jagged soul
shatterd moonlight and splintered sunsets
create a stunning view
reminding me of my darling kintsugi
beautifully broken you

Poetically translated to “golden joinery,” Kintsugi, or Kintsukuroi, is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery. Rather than rejoin ceramic pieces with a camouflaged adhesive, the Kintsugi technique employs a special tree sap lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.

waterfalls

“There is a hidden message in every waterfall. It says, if you are flexible, falling will not hurt you!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

waterfalls

With my flight home only two days away, my buddy decided to take me on a picnic by this waterfall today. He brought along his sister and three girlfriends.

No one was prepared with swim trunks or bathing suit, but a little impromptu dip never hurt anyone.

Upon returning to the hut, we were stunned with the news, the government had decided to include the shutting down of all airports with the 17 day extension of the state of emergency.

I called all four major airlines, they cancelled all flights until June 1st.

Again, my heart surgery will remain on hold.

Wishing everyone all the best.

Be flexible. ❤️

i will love you

i will love you

i will love you
in the silence of your reflection
in the echoes of your pain
with the calm of the mountains
with a passion bordering
sound mind and insane
for I have fallen like a sunset
who blushes as he nears the horizon
with feelings he can’t convey
and should you never be mine
i will remind you of the promise
of tomorrow’s dawn
as i love you
anyway

the dreams I had

the dreams i had

you are the twilight in my eyes
that never blossomed into dawn
the empty nights sans moonlight
imagining the phases of your soul
renouncing the affections of women
to appease this unrequited heart
and all the love it has to give
for you my beloved
I cling to illusions
embracing all the dreams i had
yet never lived

.

.

A song that very much inspires mi. Sabor A Mi (Taste of Me).

I don’t know if eternity has love
But there, just like here
In your mouth you will carry
A taste of me 🎵🎶

doors upon the sea

Poetry under the palm trees continue….

doors upon the sea

who am i to tell the roses
not to bloom
how do I stop the hands of time
or silence a lonely wolf
howling at the moon
how can i not think of you
it’s like asking my heart
to remember not to bleed
or a pianist who lost his hands
to forget his keys
my beautiful muse
tell me I can lock these thoughts out
convince me
I can put doors upon the sea

.

.

Am I wrong to love my muse?

a voice came to me

During a depressing night where my headaches and dizzy spells drained any hope I had, I reached for my phone and discovered an email with a voice recording.

There were delightful pauses in this one sided conversation, but everything about the message, her soft voice, her pauses, her sweetness revitalized me.

Sadly, this little poem does not do justice. I dedicate this to that voice to die for. Thank you. 🌹

a voice came to me

loneliness thundered
when a soft voice came to me
landing on my five o’clock shadow
like a lightning bug
determined to tickle my cheek
while her little healing light
outshined my torment
stifling the echoes inside my heart
as her deafening silence spoke to me
her voice shined like the stars
illuminating my night
resembling a constellation of fireflies
absorbing the darkness
in my universe of misery

Maria Luna

Maria Luna

This photo was taken by me during happier times. My ex Ally hugging her Godmother Maria Luna.

Maria was the first person to notice a very young Ally infatuated with the Americano from the beach. She was instrumental in bringing us together, and no one celebrated more at our wedding.

During her final years, she had lost her eyesight and alzheimer’s had stolen her memory. She rarely recognized her children.

But whenever I kissed her palm, she immediately perked up. “Andresito.” She always said I was the only man who ever kissed her palm.

She taught me along with the infinite sacrifice, there was greatness in being a housewife.

Maria Luna was 97 years young when she passed earlier this morning.

stop the presses

stop the presses

This happened my first Sunday on the island (Feb 23rd).

Axel’s baptism party was packed with guests. His parents were busy with the photographer, it was up to me to play host. Seeing so many beautiful women in the crowd, I welcomed the opportunity.

After my months of illness, this was my chance to prove I still got it. (Sorry ladies, I was born with a disbaility. I am a man and this is important).

(Cue in 007 theme music).

Started mingling, complimenting, and flirting.

As the night wore on, more and more ladies told me I looked different. Now, how different could I appear after three months?

Finally, one young lady told me “you look distinguished.”

Later that night, tossing and turning in bed, I replayed that one word, “distinguished”.

A frantic dash to the mirror.

No lines on my forehead. I smiled into the mirror. No laugh lines. Hair was still jet black and on my head. WHAT A RELIEF.

Then, I saw it, or should I say THEM.

There were a half dozen gray hairs at my right temple. Quickly looked and yeah, the left side too.

Today is my birthday. Can someone, please, ease my newly discovered distinguished soul.

at the edge of an eclipse

at the edge of an eclipse

a slow dance
our cheeks melting
my melancholy clinging to your soul
i shut off the moon
so we dance at the edge of an eclipse
as my loneliness gyrates
in the darkness
pressing gently against your hips
I inhale your womanhood
it inspires me to kiss
a poem onto your neck
the one I could never think of
the one confessing
I desperately need you
darling
i am slowly dying of love