Poetry 

What is poetry? You say while fixing
in my pupil your blue pupil.
What is poetry? And you are asking me?
Poetry… is you.

And if Bécquer already told us that poetry is you, who am I? … To contradict his words, if I’m only verses in full writing, incomplete in search of that rhyme that rhymes you without rhyming and that makes you perfectly rhythmic in my mouth, but the torture of living in the agitating frenzy of sewing hyperboles on paper with these rusty needles, that I thread with the tears that run thinner down the tracks of these cheeks, those mighty rivers dying in the sea.

The sea of this madly paradoxical soul that is full of metaphors trying to describe you because it doesn’t find those damn words through the moldy pages of my being; those that make it possible to recite your name poetically.

And this heart in perpetual metastasis that does not pay the rent of my ribs, because I’m a bad poet, is looking for a new home whose prose doesn’t gut its muscles every night, that doesn’t force it to sleep on mattresses of thorns that pin the colourless memories, humidified in black and white by the acid rain that hides the stars, your star.

by_luis7

225 respuestas a “Poetry 

  1. Hey there!

    My heartfelt thanks to you for following my blog, and for all the likes & comments!And hope we continue to grow and support each other in this journey!

    Also, my blog A Wayward Scribbles reached the milestone of 500+ followers last month and I thought why not celebrate it!

    So, I’m very excited to personally invite you to my blog party(23 May, 2018), since you’re one of those amazing blogger who chose to follow my blog and I would love to show my gratitude!

    See you at the party!
    Nathi

    Le gusta a 5 personas

  2. No tengo idea de inglés, aparte de cuatro palabras… así que con el traductor automáticos me pierdo mucho pero bueno, la esencia queda.
    Poesía eres tú… (Bécquer)
    Y tú, Luis, eres el arquitecto de las palabras,
    poesía o prosa ¡qué más da! Puro sentimiento.
    Ser poeta no es hacer rimas,
    ni contar las sílabas escritas,
    ser poeta es poner el corazón en la palabra,
    es pintar los sentimientos con colores
    y dibujar el dolor con trazos negros,
    emperando que apezca el arco iris.
    ¿Qué es ser poeta? me dices,
    poeta eres tú…

    Un abrazo.

    Le gusta a 5 personas

  3. Absolutely phenomenal. Your way with words is a complete treasure- I can’t imagine how long this must have taken to draft! The description is so vivid and yet still metaphorical, which is really cool without being had to follow. Just… Fantastic!

    Le gusta a 5 personas

  4. Perspective is the crayon that colors existence from a billion different pupils. Each refrating a different hue, giving the contrast that puts together an unseeable masterpiece: a mystical reality, that could never exist otherwise. Thanks for sharing a spark for my pupils to tend to, can already feel the entropy of creativity forming a formidle fire to dance around and eventually forge some word constructions to. Leaving this piece with the reflection of your words and it feels terrifyingly wondrous. Thank you, for the inspiration, you are the serendipitous muse didn’t realize I was craving. Will keep following, and reading the reflections from your pupils. Have a day worth living in! 🤯

    Le gusta a 5 personas

  5. “Poetry… is you.” EXACTLY!!! It’s what lies deep, what pours out, what we share with others. This was a beautiful read! Thank you for sharing yourself. 😉 And thank you for spending so much time on I Write Her, the place where I spread myself thin.

    Le gusta a 2 personas

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