"guapa" poems
El mundo está velado en verde.
Lo no es verdad, pero como yo veo.
Y no puedo obligar a aclararse la vista.
Son muchos razones. Las sabes, yo creo.
La problema es que me gustas mucho.
Y para él, no tengo malevolencia.
La verdad es que son una pareja guapa
Pero él no es yo. Ergo no eres mía.
La bonita rosa, quien puede que nunca me quiera
Eres lista, divertida, interesante, y amable
Eres más linda de creía posible
Pero ninguna razón es, para esto, responsable
Me alegro de verte, por consiguiente
Quiero hacer mi papel, si solo como amigo
Pero es muy difícil hacer esto ahora
Porque me lastima aun ver él contigo
No sé que debo hacer, no sé que debo creer
No sé que debo decirte, no sé debo seguir
La hora he llegado cuando te necesito preguntar
¿Cómo piensas de mí?
¿Cómo piensas debo progresar?
¿Cómo quieres que yo progrese?
~D.B. Guy (October 25, 2009)
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:29 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
She misses those around her when she is alone,
slowly, her mind drifts and attaches to something inside of her that wants desperately to leave.
Can she travel the distance to see those who notices her absence?
Probably.
There is a jet plane leaving soon, about in a month or less.
2,352 miles away from me, she will land and enjoy the rest of her life with other people.
Enjoyment will come for her. Rest assure she will live a life full of excitement and company.
I on the other hand will live, barely but I will live. I will never see her and will wash the sheet where we used to sleep together. The smell will leave. As everything in this life does.
Will I notice her absence?
Absolutely.
Will I miss her drool on the cool side of the pillow?
Absolutely.
The water will never drip from the faucet anymore because I will remember that no one will be home when I get here.
It will be tightly shut.
No noise at night, no deep breathes when we awake, just the other side of the bed.
I will miss her bras hanging from the office chair in the room. I will miss her work schedule on the cork note thing, I will miss the one side of the slipper because that is the only one we could find.
But life will prevail, the honesty of this poem is unprecedented to my nature.
I am a liar; I am someone who cannot hold her here.
I am sorry, guapa.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Silence is golden your voice is a feather.
A wafting gypsy on an autumn evening
drifting on scarlet sunset.
Gentility.
Your eyes they speak and inquire.
They smile and beguile. saying all ,telling nothing.
Linda. The word in Spanish means pretty.
en espnol otra significa es Guapa. O otras plabras similar.
Cosita Linda.
Cosita Linda.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
How important to you, guapa, is a word?
¿Se puede?
I have time to **** in between sun rise and sunset, between work and relaxation, between awake cycles and rem sleep. With the feel of isolation within a crowd, my heart cannot establish solitude properly. It's the chemistry that is wrong. Un poco despues, the midday sun will bring the mist to my heart. She, the mist, cools that fuego that burns dimly.
¿De donde eres, guapa? ¿Aqui o alli?
My mind is weary of the questions with no answers. All I see is rojo y todo lo que escucho es que lo siento.
Hasta la vista, guapa.
Para siempre jamás.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
his heart bled into the ground
he held me and whispered
in ****** liquor sighs
go on guapa
as long as there’s one of us
there’s both of us
and I shook like a rabbit
in twilight’s snare
and begged him
don’t go
don’t go
a chant as old
as old
as my bones
together,
once we felt the
earth move
it shook in the late spring morning
and I he warmed my feet
in the sack
when the night was a vacuum
he spilled his seed
on the ground
like some biblical
walk on
and we lived an entire
life
an entire life
in three days
three days of coughing
and struggling to stay still
in the winters dull
and stingy light
from a pale pale
pane in
Indiana
is it safe to
give my _____ to you?
It’s never safe,
I roughly handed it to you
and you felt it’s
shadow every since
with your busted femur
and long trailing stain
resenting the self-made
patricide
bleeding out
on the gray beast
I’m taken
the little rabbit
with a black scar
saving myself from
the tangled
mar that you now
have fallen
If I go on
we both go on
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC