50 Short Poems

1 - SPRING KISSED...

Spring kissed
gently the grove,
and the new green was sprouting

like a green smoke.

The clouds were passing by

about the youth field...
I saw in the leaves trembling
the fresh rains of April.

Under that flowering almond tree,

everything loaded with flower

I have cursed.
my youth without love.

Today in the middle of life,

I have stopped to meditate...
Unlived youth,
who would make you dream again!

2 - BAREFOOT

Night without moon,

someone, barefoot,
cross the desert.

There are footprints that the night keeps watch over,

there are nudities that the light extinguishes.

3 - MEETING

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If life
he/she gives us another encounter
I will let you be you
I will be
simply me

I will listen
the melody
from your music
and mine
when they join.

4 - PERFECTION

That cloud came and went.

How clean the air has been left
the purity of that being
that existed to refuse!

5 - SYMBOL

I adore you cloud because you are

my symbol in the afternoon,

purple that ends in snow,
snow that ends in the air...
nothing among so much fighting!
Blood flowing to the temples,
they who fall asleep in dreams...
Who defeated you without hostages?

6 - THE MOON, ALWAYS

Round, swollen from rubbing against the sky

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saw my skin with its thin light
Falls over my hair
with the lightness of a mermaid
that he/she would not have realized
that does not have legs
It stirs my blood
drives me crazy
give me a glowing skin
and turns me into
boiling oil
in fauna
(helmets and horns and wild hair
under the lubricious breath of the dark

7 - MY SOULMATE

The years go by and I'm still searching for you,

error upon error complicates your meeting,

the years go by and I remain alone,
although I know that the day of our reunion will finally come.

8 - PRISONER WITHOUT HORIZON

Prisoner without horizon

I hear the noises from the street
And I see only a hostile sky
And the white wall of my prison

The evening flees in my prison

A sweet lamp burns
We are alone in my cell
Beautiful light adorable reason.

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9 - THE PINK GIRL, SITTING...

The pink girl, sitting.

About her skirt,
like a flower,
open, an atlas.
How I looked at her
traveling, from my balcony!
His finger, white sail,
from the Canary Islands
I was going to die in the Black Sea.

How I looked at her.

to die, from my balcony!
The girl, pink sitting.
About her skirt,
like a flower,
closed, an atlas.
By the sea of the evening
from the clouds crying
red blood islands.

10 - THE VINE

Through the garden's mill

a vine ascends.

The iron skeleton

she is going to have a silk shawl

now green, blue later

when January arrives

and the bells will ring

like handfuls of heaven.

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My soul: who could
Dress up as a vine!

11 - SIMUN

Crazy wind, dry land,

thirsty mouth, thirsty.
Blind world, sand in the sky.
Dust, storm, torment.

Fly and bury and howl

the sand of dune in dune.
Land that terrifies and buries
in a sky turned and tossed.

12 - KNOW HOW TO CARRY OUR PORTION OF NIGHT

Knowing how to carry our share of the night

or a pure morning;
fill our emptiness with disdain,
fill it with fortune.

Here a star, and another star far away:

someone gets lost.
Here a fog, beyond another fog,
but after the day.

13 - LOVE

To be our wanting
rejoicing in oneself
in the blink of an eye
not dreamed. Lived.

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Without asking or giving anything

see my background in your background.

Be object and image

like the water from the well.

Blessedness of the certain:

God's acquiescence.
Ignorance of doubt:
presence of your love.

14 - SUPPLICATION

For today
give me your hand

to deceive me

Give me your body

to quench my thirst

For today
only for today
teach me to lie
how you lie to yourself

when do you repeat

that only the flight

of a migratory bird
join me.

15 - LIFE

Living like an island,

full everywhere
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of you, that surrounds me
either present or distant

with a tremor of light

first, unrefined,
without an edge of afternoon,

in garden shade.

And angels in mirrors

watching your gaze
to become truths
and starry nights.

16 - DECISION

I didn't decide to love you

with the mind or with the heart

it was the cold of winter.

17 - LANGUAGE

Where is the voice of the air?

You hear her. It's silence.
His words are the clouds,
the light and the wind their verbs.

18 - A SWEET SNOW IS FALLING

A sweet snowfall is falling

behind every thing, every lover,
a sweet snowfall understanding
what life has of distant.

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A slow monologue of diamond
shut up about what I am saying,
an actor his role badly repeating
endless, in gesticulating solitude.

19 - MY FAITHFUL RED HORSE

My faithful red horse

but love the distances,
turbans under the wings

the beauty of the angel,

blue threads close
the old labyrinth,
fragile winds
they take their whinnies,

but ride,
just like the distance that is forgotten
in the daydream of other journeys.

20 - OFFICE OF CUSTOM

From love to words, only habit remains.

The mystery becomes a rite and a useless god
silent visits the desolate landscape of our dreams.
In burning mirrors we look at our face
and the hand holds a flower that is made of ice and ash.
If in that sunset a blind bird sings,
What will its song return to us if night is already waiting?
to tear from our eyes the ultimate light of the world?

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21 - IN A PORTRAIT

When, under the square pile

of fresh earth that will bury me,

and after having rained a lot,

when the grass moves towards oblivion,

still, friend, my gaze from yesteryear,

crossing the sea will come, without a deceit,

to involve you in a tender gesture,

like that of a grateful poor dog.

22 - COMPANIONS

...Badly dressed and sad,

I am walking down the old street.
A. Machado
And I accompany you. I'm going with you. We talk.
Nothing separates us: neither distance nor sexes.
We walk arm in arm, walking
like two teammates.
Sometimes you stop. You lift your head.
You look at the sky, without seeing.

And it's like a waterfall

of light upon my shoulders your silence.
You smile while contemplating

the immense solitude of the open field,

and you say something beautiful

about the river, the poplars, the village...

23 - CITY OF DREAM

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My heart
it is a landscape of memories,
a city of moons,
yours is today
dream of the river that flees us
and from the desert,
a stay that rises among the folds
of an evoked prodigy,
skies in flight,
symphony to color
snatched.

24 - WHOEVER IS NOT IN PRESENCE...

Whoever is not present,

have no faith in trust,
well, they are forgetfulness and change

the conditions of absence.

Whoever wishes to be loved,

I worked to be present,
that as soon as he was absent,
so soon it will be forgotten:
and lose all hope
whoever is not present,
well, they are forgetting and moving

the conditions of absence.

25 - TRAIN

The important thing is to leave.

and not where we are going

and never go further

before leaving.
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26 - THE BIRD'S COMPANION

Like love
which lands
every day on the little branch
what can die

Thus your love blossoms

lozano
vigorous sun
companion of the birds...

27 - LOVING YOU

Loving you was not a bouquet of roses in the afternoon.

To leave you any day forever and not see you...?

I still have another larger hell ahead of me.
Wait for you to return beyond death.

28 - SILENT CINEMA

It's not that it's lacking

the sound,
does it have
the silence.

29 - TOMORROW

You have come out of the dream like from the sea. Still damp,

your mouth smiles at dreams, sweetly.

The sun shines on the grass, but you see the silver.
from the moon, that sleeps in the water.

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An emerald light almost blurs your eyes;
perfumes of that sea have your fine clay;
and you carry a great pale pearl beneath your curls,
wavy like tranquil algae.

30 - US

Your scent of man

walk around my body
Your rough hands
hot
safe
I abandon my ecstasy

Yours.

31 - DREAMS ARE THE SUBTLE GIFT

Dreams are the subtle gift

that makes us rich for an hour
then they throw us out poor.

Outside the purple door

In the cold seal
Previously possessed.

32 - NATURAL

The tree whispers, reason understands:

nothing is the north or the south but that which
the heart chooses, not the object

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is love but love
everything in itself, whether old or young
beautiful is the time of light,
how natural the landscape is
or by free will, the will is a privilege.

33 - TREE

From you a shadow is detached

that mine seems dead
if the movement oscillates
or breaks azure fresh waters
on the banks of the Ánapo, to which I return tonight
in which lunar March did it incite me,

rich already with wings and herbs.

I do not live by shadow alone,

what land and sun and sweet gift of water
new foliage was given to you
while I lean and dry
I feel your bark on my face.

34 - TAPIA

Absence can change

love in another desire,
but in what has power
to make forget.

Because when I was a child

of a lady that I do not see,
I have such a new desire.
I don't know how I live.
And for this thinking
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what absence I wanted,
but in what has power
to be able to forget.

35 - WHEN I COUNT THE SEEDS

When I count the seeds

sown down there
to bloom like this, side by side;

when I examine people

how low it lies
to get so high;

when I think that the garden

that mortals will not see
the chance cuts its buds
and raffles this bee,
I can do without summer, without complaint.

36 - THEY SAY: THE SEA IS SAD

They say: the sea is sad. What a sign

each wave, when it breaks!
And I see a sad sea, but in the middle
you, like a pearl.

They say: the earth is sad. What a sign.

Do the sheet! Just bear it.
See the sad land, but in the midst
you, like a rose.

37 - SNOWFLAKES OVER WIVENHOE

Intertwined
they fall,
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they crowd together

and a second later

they have dispersed.
They fall and let fall
to the fall.
Immaterial
astros
intangibles
infinite,
planets in collapse.

38 - THE PIGEON

The dove was mistaken,

he was wrong.
To go north he went south,
He believed that wheat was water.
He believed that the sea was the sky.
that the night the morning.
That the stars dew,
what the heat the snow.
That your skirt was your blouse,
that your heart is home.
She fell asleep on the shore,
you at the top of a branch.

39 - OF SILENCE

While the body protects us

of the disaster

and a whirlwind carves a channel in our veins

and our eyes are covered with sour roots

my soul knows that over the other side

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in the corner or store or office
you also suffer in the darkness
with open arms
to receive me.

40 - THE RAT IS A BRIEF TENANT

The rat is a brief tenant.

Does not pay rent.
Repudiates the obligations
and pursue their combinations

Playing with our cunning

hides or dodges
hatred does not harm.

To that very recent enemy

no decree can exclude it
it has its law, the balance.

41 - NONE

Maybe I am a child:
the dead frighten him.
However, it calls out to death
release it from every creature
-child, tree, little beast-
of so many things that pulsate
gnawed hearts of sadness.

It's just that there's nothing more to give.

and the streets are dark,

and does not find, Lord, any being
that I achieve, by your side,

to make him/her sob.

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42 - HOTEL

All love has a space.

Every space is a void.
And we fill ourselves with us
emptying ourselves.

43 - THE PRAYER OF A PAGAN

Don't let your flames die;
Calm my deaf heart,
Voluptuousness, cruel torment!
Goddess! Hear my plea!

Goddess spread in the air,

Flame of our underground,
Listen to a consumed soul
Let its iron song rise up towards you,

Voluptuousness, be my queen!
Take mermaid mask
Made of flesh and brocade,

Oh, pour me your deep dreams.

In the liquor, shapeless and mystical,

Voluptuousness, elastic ghost!

44 - OPPOSITE POLES

Extreme old age and youth are,

purity and perversion are antonyms,
truth and lies are antagonistic,
and even though there are many differences between us
We are the perfect couple.

45 - DYING DOES NOT HURT MUCH

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Dying doesn't hurt much:
life hurts us more.
But dying is a different thing,
behind the hidden door:

The custom of the south, when the birds

before the ice comes,
they are going to a better climate. We are
birds that stay

The tremblers by the peasant threshold,

that they seek the crumb,
given sparingly, until the snow
Pious towards home, the feathers push us.

46 - STAY IN ME

Don't fight with yourself anymore

transhumant warrior
Stay with me

Listen to the song

what my hands and my breasts whisper

Imprisons the tenderness

Pacify my sand
anxious for the sea.

47 - LOVE AND THE SAW

I was riding through a harsh mountain range,

an afternoon, among gray rock.

The leaden storm ball
From mountain to mountain, it could be heard bouncing.

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Suddenly, at the bright glare of the lightning,

he reared up, descended from a tall pine,

on the edge of the cliff, his horse.
He turned the hard rein back to the road.

And he had seen the torn cloud,

and inside, the sharp ridge
from another, more subtle and elevated mountain range

-it looked like a stone lightning-.

And did he see the face of God? He saw that of his beloved.

He shouted: To die in this cold mountain!

48 - POET

The old rite possesses me.

Several sleepless nights
then the river of blood flows down
I drown in her and reborn
new as currency
round as a dream
perfect in my pain
remembering just enough of the past
to build the
cobweb
with which I cover my single bed.

49 - PERSPECTIVE

Moving forward is not always the right thing to do,

sometimes you have to know how to take a couple of steps back,

to observe life with a broader perspective,

to forget about the trivial worries of everyday life
and rediscover what is truly important.

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50 - I SURVived THE NIGHT IN A SECRET WAY

I survived the night in a secret way

and I enter the day.
The one who is safe only needs to know that they were saved.
even if I don't know how.

I take my place among the living,

like one who lets themselves be taken,

random candidate of the morning

but cited with the dead.

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