"daniela" poems
Daniela Hantuchova is hot
that backhand, what a shot!
arms and legs too thin
her game still full of win.
May 30, 2010
May 30, 2010 at 11:00 AM UTC
Hoy que es día de los muertos
quisiera recordar a mis amigos,
a aquellos que están perdidos,
que nos dejaron de improvisto.
Alex con sus gritos
a cualquiera impresionaba,
mas poseía un alma noble
y seguro lo demostraba.
La muerte siendo injusta,
traicionera y juguetona
le hizo perder el equilibrio
para no jugar más sola.
Daniela guapa era.
Coqueta y encantadora.
A los hombres enloquecía
en cuestión de pocas horas.
La muerte, por celosa,
le echó una maldición.
Ahora les encanta
desde el mismísimo panteón.
Al pequeño, alegre Ivan
el futbol volvía loco.
El Barça su pasión
y un partido dentro de poco.
La muerte en su equipo
carecía de un defensor,
y pensó en el joven Ivan
para su equipo ganador.
Aunque hoy se encuentren lejos
los llevamos en el corazón,
mas no dejan de ser calaveras,
calaveras del montón.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
Nothing about us feels finished.
A stupid thing to feel,
Seeing your new girlfriend's face
Pops up everywhere I look.
Your face pops up every time
I shut my eyes.
Maybe it's the way you ended it.
You quit me cold turkey,
Like some kind of
Horrible, addictive, life-ruining drug.
We went from instant secret spilling,
To complete silence, separation.
Maybe it's why you ended it.
I was falling in love with you,
After a short month? Of all the self-centered...
Possibly true, things to come up with.
But like the scared, lovesick teenage boy that you are,
You couldn't tell me.
No, Nothing about us is finished.
Some say quitting cold turkey is difficult.
Was it?
Was the Daniela drug addictive?
I suppose it's wrong to hope
That it has an iron grip on you.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 12:39 AM UTC
By the shore I was wandering,
Searching for some ray.
For some hope in all the grey.
Life's untold mystics seem to have been missed,
For some reason they seem to have stopped to exist.
Yearning for some mystery, in the land of grown ups.
Wanting some companion for my inner cub.
I saw her starry eyes, her smiling grace,
A reason in itself, worthy of all praise.
True to her name she was an angel in a mass,
Her nature, in a different class.
She was like my missing friend from past,
Someone I will never forget until I last
She made my existence worthwhile,
A reason she gave me, to smile.
I wish her name.... I wish her fame..
And for what I can, I gift her a name
DANIELA.... The smiling flame
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:26 AM UTC
The shortest poem there ever was.(I lied. it isn't that short[Sorry])
With the deepest story. (well, what is your definition of deep?)
There ever was. (depending on your definition, then yes, "ever was" is right.)
Spanning across all the land. (actually it's not on land at all, it's in the air when I speak)
through all existence, (lets just say "all of existence", that sounds nice)
thoughts, (well my thoughts and yours)
languages, (that would be Spanish and English for us)
struggles, (oh there are a few of these)
1 breaks all, (well maybe more than one thing)
and here it is, (dramatic much)
"I love you"
quite simple. (but so complex)
isn't it, ( I believe it so)
Daniela (Cutest Cute Cutie)
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
Dani my dear, I made a mistake not expressing how I felt about you.
I miss those days when we danced in the cool summer evenings, buzzed from the wine, listening to the beat you made with your small Colombian feet stomping the hardwood.
I miss the quiet drives when we first met. I took you around the lake during the Fall when the red leaves swirled in our wake.
Your long straight hair, jet-black, flowed downward resting on your chest; you were beautiful. You were beautiful against an orange blazing sunset with that long black hair and your tanned skin accenting that blue lake.
I miss the way you looked at me. Your deep brown eyes had something I couldn't touch or explain. I miss the way you'd smile when I'd become speechless looking into those eyes. I miss the way we hugged each other, as if each time was the first and last, how we used to stand holding each other.
I knew you wanted me to overcome my inner demons and kiss you and hold you and make love to you and caress you. Oh how badly I wanted to, every inch of me wished for me to give in to you. I wanted to love you. I wanted to love you.
I miss how you knew I couldn't bring myself to love you. I miss how you knew I had demons that tortured me, keeping me from loving you. My passion battling my reasoning.
I'm so sorry Dani... I think about you everyday and I failed to create something special between us. Something more special than the special relationship I had the honor having with you.
I miss you DanieLa
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
he aquí que daniela un día conversó con los ángeles
ligeramente derrumbados sobre sus senos góticos
fatigados del trance pero lúcidos lúbricos
y daniela advertía sus símiles contrarios
las puertas que se abren para seguir viviendo
las puertas que se cierran para seguir viviendo
en general las puertas sus misiones sus ángulos
ángulos de la fuga las fugas increíbles
los paralelogramos del odio y del amor
rompiéndose en daniela para dar a otra puerta
con la ayuda de drogas diversas y de alcoles
o de signos que yacen debajo del alcol
o daniela sacándose los corpiños sacándose
los pechos distanciados debido al ejercicio
del amor en contrarias circunstancias mundiales
daniela rocca loca dicen los magazines
de una pobre mujer italiana por cierto
que practicaba métodos feroces del olvido
y no mató a sus padres y fue caritativa
y un día de setiembre orinó bajo un árbol
y era llena de gracia como santa maría
496
Beauty suits you better from far, as in an abstract painting, in some museum of a place that I can not afford the trip, in which I could not approach even an inch. And it will still be beautiful.
—To Daniela, even if you do not know
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC