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storms

I’ve written less than I want…attending so many compromises in daily living…it seems I’m writing only at weekends…at the space and time when real solitude is some of the conditions for writing…I guess that the writer is not a professional of solitude, but in solitude i write…wandering writings…past week two strong spring storms showed me once more the forces of nature…fortunately my house keep safe…storms with loud thunders and flashlights at sky…so strong rainny water dropping from heaven…a sense of a tiny blend of the tears drops falling from my eyes…the one love I feel and can not write more than a few words: love is a feeling, and is a labor…and there’s exist some tough labor in loving…some task to support the absence…the solitude…the real and the paradox of the presence of love…one love…more than words…a feeling

sitting on the porch at spring nights

sounds good an evening spent wisely…close to friends, close friends…so rare lovely friends!,…but also in sweet solitude I could appreciate the light that lingers longer and longer towards night…some special full moon night…a lovely feeling is in the air and in my heart…a night air that whispers that summer is around the corner of the season’s shuffle…a moonlight night at spring…a love surrender…the loving road…there’s beauty in any season…even if I like so much autumn and winter…some spring nights…moonlighted…an invitation to be and build together a light-hearted evening…to share…imagine…wish good ones…be grateful…nights to dream…nights to spend the time in lovely way…for a while…it feels like a dream of a night

spring full moon

yesterday I was coming to house…after a hard work day…sometimes I feel the city so tough…and ridding through the streets…I saw the full moon…it seems the full moon at sky a soothing picture…I take a surprised contemplation…and my soul was lightened by the moonlight…loyal moon!,…the moonlight guided me to soothing sentiments…that is the first full moon of that spring…and for sometimes I could feel how beautiful was so silvery night…the moonlight veil motion dressed the sky with silvery wear…wearing my heart with silvery clothes…undressing my soul…my blues…my joy…a silver plate at sky…reminding me that there’s beauty at any season…any way…any path…reminding me the beauty is also in the look I take…the beauty inside, and outside…glimpses of harmony…talking to the moon…I make some wishes

most of the time

most of the time I can write…a little bit…to share some impressions, sentiments, perceptions…to break silence…wondering writings…wandering writings…I don’t know why I do write in English idiom…I regret regarding my English literacy…this lack regarding skill literacy don’t prevent me to read, but to write…today I’ve read so impressive and amazing posts…from so beloved friends at blogging space…and this reading help me to track some writing…track this monday…the weather is moist and hot…I try to keep cool…its hard to me hot days…its hard to me to say goodbye to autumn and winter days and nights…I know my soul is inhabited with winter feeling…and autumn sentiment…but spring arrived…and I can solely be in charge of myself…control my hard task to face with gratitude each day…each bit of that so tiny perception of time…to don’t waste time…to spend time wisely…most of the time I can write…I come here…when I fall in blue…and when I feel joy…the writing craft is not an expression of solitude…a writer is not a professional of solitude, although in solitude I can write here…the off line writing is tough task…here even when writing hard, its sweet

one love

that’s not a quotation although I guess I’ve read it long time ago…from a poem…’que nada nos una / para que nada nos separe’…of a spanish poet…so strong phrase, but so sweet: one love we share…love is not of mine nor your’s…love is not a property, but what I feel and share with you…if daily living resembles a game, I don’t give nor receive love, but share with you

dress up

its so hard to me to say goodbye…I regret my poor English literacy, but I like to write this way…rough way…raw writing…every date is a goodbye…the labor of love…sometimes painful…most of the time joyous…sometimes so painful that resembles a kind of death…body ache, soul ache…dress me up with your words…dress me up with your poems…dress me up with your lovely rhymes…I climb hills and mountains…sometimes an exhausting journey…its not a complain, but some moaning…dress me up with your attention and care…goodbyes haunt me, hurt me…tend to dwell with life journey…sometimes I sense another kind of sentiment…I take my clothes…my quilts…my rugs…my blankets…my clothes…to dress my body and soul…but dress me up with your lovely words…as for an elegant event…dress me up with your sweet voice…sweet words…to heal my woes…to release my joy…I’m in love…dress me up…for me to be elegant…dress me up, and you touch my skin…dress me up, if you’re in love too

cold breeze of spring

as its known, doves don’t sing, but moan…I listen the doves chatting with each other…stay for a while over the roofs and trees…I see they flying out to unknown somewhere…at rainny days the doves stay upon the roofs, inhabiting corners to reach some shelter…they don’t build nests nor sing joyous songs, but moan…loyal compannions!…I like to sing, but my love songs are love moanings…

perfect days

I miss the winter season…I long those days of winter feeling…I welcome spring…it can sounds that winter sense is my mistress…together with autumn…another mistress…but spring arrived…even though…yesterday and today are perfect days for me…little cold, rainny, cloudy sky…so good to stay at house…or take a little walk along the village…it may sounds that hot or sunny days are imperfect days for me, but its just a matter of taste…cloudy and rainny days are an invitation for my daily labor of well living…my perception of peace in my soul…my perception that perfect days are not blessings nor imperfect days are punishment…indeed…everyday may be a lovely day…that subtil and tiny perception of the impermanence, but I like autumn and winter season, as children like to play, that inner ever child I’m…we are children that grown up…facing the futures, and playful memoirs…building the present time, and enjoying the gifts…flying through permanence and love. One love.

season’s shuffle

its just october!…time goes by…listening the radio songs…time waits for no one…farewell winter…spring arrived…but I miss you so much!…she is so lovely!…lovely angel…grateful for your visit…for the time we spent together…its so hard to me to say goodbye…farewells…each date is departure too…but the parfum…one love…remains

clothes

I ask you…undress me with your words…my soul feels joy…if you write to me…if I can hear your voice…each word of your’s soul undress my body…when I can listen the whispered rhyme…my soul and my body blossoms…when I climb the feet of your poem…I walk till the mountain top…the clothes I wear…is beckon…and after sundown…the ever stars is a beacon to my soul…I hope I can always listen your voice…together…our voices chant beautiful songs…love songs…and we walk in a parade…all lover marching on

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