Autumn, at last

It is over, now
over the fields, moisture dwells
on dry summer leaves.

Just by...

As long as we live
in selfless kindness, we give 
just by existing.

If only we chose to see

In my world, to see

is my personal motto;

and love, the wide path

to vanish sadness

or the desire to reclaim

what was never ours:

Ideas of perfect

just as we wish to have it,

despising its flaws,

clinging to our need

to make it all work our way,

ignoring virtues

that hide because we deny

the beauty of life,

simply as it is.

Inception (of the mind), inspired by the movie

Meditation dreams,
death of what is real, or fake
when we reach limbo:
the viral regret
and the sour, stabbing neglect
pleading to let go.

And then, we rise up
in absolute dark blankness
where nightmares simply crack
at the sound of a chimeb
and two snapping fingers
announcing Buddha,

the awaken one.

Autumn

Gold! it will all be,
the sinking sun, the quiet pond
and the musty leaves.

On Equinox day

Fullmoon rain falls loose,

soulmating in loneliness 

with the dreamy night.

Broken storm (haiku)

Waterfalls of light
filter through the guarding clouds,
blessing restless waves.

Equinox (Haiku)

Fall leaves, falling free.
Deep honey lights chant and leak
through the sleepy mist.

Nirvana (with English translation)

"No, no sé nada"
dice la luz, hambrienta
de sol vacío.

"No, I know nothing"

says the craving light, hungry

for an empty sun.

The pursuit of...?

Men made man greedy:

egos as empty balloons

floating aimlessly.

Haiku of hope for the lonely

Split in syllables,
lonesome street songs cry and mend
my broken love dreams.

Haiku for The Hague

Hush, hush, The Hague speaks.
Powdery rain pours over
creaking steamy streets.

Farewell to the summer

Weeping willow trees,
a coffin, crushed leaves
in cracking stillness.

Little prayer for stray dreams

 Nyx, goddess of the night, William-Adolphe Bouguereau – La Nuit (1883)

Lullaby after lullaby,  the graceful gods of the silence whisper the nightly songs of the ebony angels. Like gracious tempting shadows, mysterious stray dreams dance and tease the raven feathers of my tired eyes.  As if longing for shelter, the goddess Nox softly squeezes herself into my velvet pupils and I have no other choice but to surrender to her blank blanket of darkness. And I embrace her lovingly, with the faith that in a fraction of a second, someone, somewhere, won't shed a drop of blood or sorrow, nor a tear of fear. 

 

No more.

Y entonces

Y entonces,

andaré desnuda por el mundo,

ofreciendo mis manos,

mi nombre, mi hambre,

mis pómulos demacrados,

mis sueños arrugados,

mi corazón encadenado,

mi cobija de lluvia, 

mis pies hinchados,

regalándome toda,

cual harapiento mendigo,

repleta de amor y hueca de mimos.

Y entonces,

rodaré desnuda por el mundo,

ofreciendo todo, todo lo mío,

a cambio del vacío, de lo inasible,

que flotando me huele,

me lame los ojos, me respira los poros,

durmiéndome el dolor, calmando lo seco,

levantándome sobre caminos ligeros,

enseñándome  a primos pasos,

en soplos de canto y de sonrisas,

a desandar sin miedo,

el mudo destino.

En cada beso sin promesa

Anoche soñé contigo,

con las perlas de tu sonrisa

derretidas al borde de mis labios,

con la sin razón de tu lengua

desbordándose ansiosa

en el húmedo albergue de mis locuras, 

de mis amorosas soledades

sedientas de mi en ti.

Anoche soñé contigo,

con el verbo de tu aliento

engendrando meteoritos de miel y celo

en el cielo inhabitado de mi boca,

pariendo delirios a borbotones,

sembrando sin resistencia

trémulas y frágiles palabras 

de amor lejano, 

en cada beso sin promesa.

Dear, dear DR, I miss you

My island,
my island is not imagined.

Like the African drums
of the last freed slave,
like the new-born eyes
of the first mestizo
and the ailing sigh
of the last taino child
she beats and dances
she cries freedom,
calling me Amapola, Manuela,  
mi hermana, mi hija.

My island,
my island is not imagined.

With that same frantic echo
which was suddenly born
on the same day we parted ways,
she beckons me and captures me,
whispering infant memories,
holding me in her pregnancy,
taking me to her Caribbean sun,
drowning me in the depths
of her loving Atlantic breath.

My island,
my island is not imagined.

She speaks with clarity,
assuring me in a rapture
that she is as real as my own mother,
as my own voice, as my own flesh
as I dream and dream of her promise,
as I sail with an open rose in my hands
to the magic treasure awaiting for me
within the foamy softness
of her divine golden shores.

Untitled.

My dreams, they beckon me.
With my silent eyes, I listen
to their childhood memories,
to their infallible promise
of a blossoming future
rising, always rising
like a sprouting sun.

Hope

When the pouring tears 

wash away the clouds 

and stop as they welcome

the fresh blue sky,

hope is the window

that allows us 

to be present,

and see it all unfold

like the simple magic 

of a new day.

 

 

Ontwaken / Awakening

Nog een nare droom
en dan ben ik echt klaar mee
wanneer ik wakker word, nu!

Another nasty dream

and then I'm really done with it

when I awake, now!