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Que caliente está el sol ahora más que nunca,
ven a sentirlo en tu piel, siente también el mar...
Quizás puedas encontrarme en otra isla.
Ven...
Que más fresco está el mar ahora desde el año pasado,
sigo olvidando el color de tus ojos, y qué dolor...
Encontrarás el verano entre mis labios.
Verme...
Cómo las calles cantan tu nombre,
cómo te llaman, queriendo encontrar significado entre...
Quizás puedas decirme su significado y origen.
Venir...
Cómo estos caminos escriben poemas en tu gloria,
pero el poste de luz pregunta: "Cuántos mañanas más?"
Verás el sol dorado en mi cara.
Ven a verme...
Y cómo mi piel se calienta aún más mientras te espero,
las palabras se escapan, mi pluma se me resbala de la mano.
Ven pa' ca...
Y cómo se me eriza el pelo, también esperando tu tacto.
Por fin mi cuerpo está en armonía, pero mi corazón está perdido.
Vente para ca...
Pero si finalmente decides romperme la piel, el cuerpo y el corazón,
aún así te sonreiré y te diré: "buena suerte, cariño."
The sky spills liquid gold across the fields,
and every blade of grass hums a bright song,
ripples of honey laughter swim through the air,
as the trees burst into wild, kaleidoscopic blooms.

Clouds skip like stones across a sapphire lake,
the wind flutes silver melodies through the valley,
and the mountains wear crowns of glittering flame,
grinning, howling, singing at the top of their lungs.

The rivers are ribbons of melted stars,
the earth quivers with candy-colored sparks,
and hearts—oh, hearts!—
they pop like fireworks in a velvet sky,
sending ripples of giggling stardust everywhere.

Every breath tastes of spun sugar and sunlight,
every blink unwraps a prism of newborn wonder,
and my soul—my soul!—
is a thousand kites soaring, shrieking, bursting,
carried far beyond the hills of happiness.
It's a different
day and age now.
I used to write my
poetry on scraps of
paper or napkins,
paper sacks, whatever
was handy.
One time, I wrote
a poem
on a paper plate--around in
a circle.
I get dizzy thinking about it.
They always got lost, or beer
spilled on them.
My girlfriend blew her
nose on a sonnet.

Now, I keep all my
poetry and short stories on
the computer.
A file for this.
A folder for that.
I have to use a password, and
PIN.
It has to be something important to
me or I will forget it.
Lower case.
Upper case.
Symbols.
Numbers.
It's enough to drive me
batty.
Actually, it's a short putt.
Summer is coming soon, so I
thought some golf humor would
be appropriate.

The things that used to be
important to me aren't anymore.
*****.
Drugs.
Having a woman around
constantly.
I like to think I've gained some
wisdom with age.

Passwords, ugh!
I can't tell you what's important
to me now.
You might hack into my
computer and steal all my
pretty posey.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEeNcBC_mnM
Here is a link to my YouTube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, available on Amazon.com
I stool in front of the mirror
Looked at myself for long,
Whilst two pair of eyes sat on the bed and looked at me lovingly,
I turned this way and that way,
Am I beautiful I mumbled,
Are my eyes big,
Are my lips thin,
Have I a captivating smile,,
I looked at my physique,
Seems okay.
Then I felt two pairs of arms around my waist,
Mum we love you,
You are you,
Unique,
You are beautiful from deep within.
That is your worth.
26/4/2025
Every time I’m happy, for reasons I don’t know,
Lights flash in my heart and it kind of . . . . discos.

Why not a waltz, polka, salsa, jive, tango or calypso?
Of all dances, I am not sure why it chooses to disco.

Perhaps, it’s a dance that it can dance on it’s own,
A dance in merry solitude when I might be alone.

Maybe, I grew up in the time when Saturday Night Fever was in tow,
When pop charts went tizzy with songs that’d make the world boom-boom go.

Maybe, my heart beats to the rhythm of life, at times funky, at times slow,
Maybe, it’s in tune with electronic sounds around me — that in a humdrum, flow.

The top left chamber of my heart, leaps, jumps and thumps so,
The bottom right chamber shakes a leg to a psychedelic-lights-show.
My arteries and ventricles throb and pulsate oh . . . OH!
Pumping blood in a sudden rush all the way to my toes.

And like the ever-glittering disco ball, I spin, shine and glow,
Every time I’m happy, my heart jumps . . . And a-dancing it goes
Written by a very young at heart me
Like a stream that meanders
Cantering music sweet
Caprice treads whimsical
Lightly on her feet.

Like the wind that doesn't know
Where to gently breeze
Caprice breathes here, then there
... the air touched 'n teased.

Like the midnight stars that twinkle 
Through the darkness peer
Caprice in a wink
Appears to disappear.

Like the morning sunlight
That hides, then lights up hills
Caprice scampers up and down
Never a moment still.

Like waves and ocean tides
That ebb, rise and flow
Caprice heaves night and day..
Between her joys and woes.

Like raindrops and the rainbow
That hold the other's hand
Caprice sighs and smiles
In but a single glance.        

I wonder... if you sense her
Her murmurs, feel her warm breath
Caprice... right behind you —
Though you haven't seen her yet.
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