Crossfire

Not a single hit.
Yet, we all lay, wounded.
I tend to those who shot me,
Neglect the ones I could heal.
Do we ever choose
Or do we just feel?

You play around before this dam, not a care in your mind,
Cause its firm walls have stood the test of time.
This face has endured many a harsh clime,
But beware of the torrent that it holds behind.




PS. Está visto que las ideas originales ya no existen. Mi amiga Patri ya expresó una idea similar a esta el pasado 26 de Abril en un post titulado "Aguas violentas". Lo que tiene delito es que yo lo leí y no me acordé de él al escribir este poema. Este subconsciente...

Connection

The watches stop,
They cease to walk
And freeze instead to watch us talk.
We’ve rendered them a useless prop.

There’s no ticking,
Cause our minds keep clicking,
And gone is all the noise,
Vanished by your voice.

I stand before this cliff
Aware that I could fly,
But can’t help to think: “What if…
This flood of air runs dry?”

I’ve caught a glimpse of a gigantic well,
Got a taste of an unquenchable thirst.
Will you let me drink?
Will I dare take another sip?

The human eye is naturally drawn to moving objects. It reacts that way cause it is programmed to do so, there is no thought involved in the process. Alas, our minds seem to behave along the same mindless lines. Few things are more beguiling than an ever moving target.

Moving Target

Up and down and up, you go,
Switching labels: “friend” or “foe”,
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow,
Random bounce, won’t let things flow.

Mesmerized, they watch you change,
All those marksmen on your target's range.
They view colors in your dance,
I just see a fickle stance.

Your stream is hearty,
But the river runs thin.
Your house is a party,
But you rarely are in.

I bet it scares you to stay still,
To let folks see beyond your mill,
Cause you would cease to get your way.
Baffled minds seldom say nay.

Estás a un metro de distancia,
Mi corazón derrocha decibelios,
Pero jamás lo oíras.
Este huracán se para en seco por falta de aire.
Sin aire no hay sonido.
Atmósfera cero.

Noise

Noise in my heart.
How can I continue
If I never seem to start?

I search,
I play the game,
But the more I shoot
The worse I aim.

This quest is a mess,
A tangle of wires,
A load of fuel with no fire.
Enthralling roads that lead nowhere
Haunting presences that are never there.

Should a mind be ashamed
To indulge in thinking?
Should poison be blamed
When it’s us who do the drinking?

I yearn for that single note,
But this noise won’t let me be.
There’s no place to go.
I can’t run away from me.

Talking in Riddles

I like to tackle,
And you like to dribble.
But we both fear the ball,
So it stays in the middle.

Though I fashion rhymes,
You prefer riddles,
And I take to your game
Like violinist to fiddle.

I find the game amusing,
But ultimately confusing.
Am I the only player,
My own mirrored gainsayer?
Is it all in my head,
Or am I being led
In this pointless path I tread?

I yearn for the day
When you will finally ask.
I so wish I could say:
"Off with this mask!"

PS. He cambiado la primera estrofa desde que colgué el post. Creo que es mejor así.

Fantasía:

Fuegos Conjugados

Yo me enciendo
Tú te avivas
Él mengua
Ella se consume
Nosotros crepitamos
Vosotros os quemásteis
Ellos se congelan
----

Realidad:

Tired Heart

The momentum fades
And I can’t help to look back.
Melancholy, with its thousand shades,
Bares its teeth, ready to attack.

As I sit and gaze at the tally,
I wonder if it was worth the rally.
Unexplored loves,
Gagged feelings,
Futile dates that sent my heart reeling.

And then you showed up,
My Achilles heel,
The treasure I lost
On that fateful spring
Of both warmth and frost.

Again, I look at you
And can’t help to fall,
But do not think I’m due
For a wake up call.

I know where I stand.
I hear your music,
But we are not a band.
You’re my oasis.
I’m your mirage.
There's no more room for surprises.
My heart's not hoping for assuage.

I know you don’t love me.
I know you never will.
Don’t worry about me,
I already swallowed the pill.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Lately I've re-evaluated my own interpretation of that saying. Can it also mean that the beholder him/herself is beautiful, just because he/she is capable to see certain things, features that other people don't appreciate?

Lights out!

You averted your eyes
And darkness fell.
Entire rivers flow now out of sight
And in my cheeks, I feel the rain.
Will someone bring back the light?
Will anybody ever see me again?

¿Tiene cada amor una fecha de caducidad?
¿O acaso hay amores que nunca mueren?

Alive

I dread to stir.
I don’t dare to take a look.
I fear to review those pages of my book,
Cause you are still there.
You will always be there.
I wish I could indulge in the glee,
That you are still alive in me.

Labels

Some people see the wolf in me,
Some people see the sheep.
Am I any less fierce cause I never make you weep?
I don’t bite, but I do have teeth
And my skin burns from the thousand flames beneath.

Fragmento del Señor de los Anillos, de J.R.R. Tolkien:

"Una noche Sam entró en el estudio y encontró a su amo muy extraño. Estaba palidísimo, con la mirada como perdida en cosas muy lejanas.
–¿Que le pasa, señor Frodo? -dijo Sam.
-Estoy herido -respondió él-, herido; nunca sanaré del todo.
Pero luego se levantó y pareció que el malestar había desaparecido, y al otro día era de nuevo el Frodo de siempre. Solo más tarde Sam reparó en la fecha: seis de octubre. dos años antes, ese mismo día, se había hecho la oscuridad en la hondonada de la Cima de los Vientos."

The Wound from Weathertop

Today my chest hurts
Like Frodo’s wound from Weathertop.
And my poor memory blurts:
“It’s been a year”.

Why reminisce now?
It must be the weather.
The cloudy skies sweep my joy, like a plow,
They tease my grief with their feathers.

It was sunny when I met you,
Which makes it hard to forget you.
I thought I’d found a treasure,
Unseen, unspoiled, and without measure.

And no dragon to guard it

Regardless of the time passed,
The dragon showed up at last.
Its breath burnt me to the bone.
Fire without warmth, and a pain that seeped fast
And in a flash, the treasure was gone.

Don’t get me wrong,
I now you meant no harm
I place no blames.
I point no fingers.
It all went up in flames,
It’s just the smoke that lingers.

Though you slaughtered my former self,
You gave birth to the new me.
I guess I ought to thank thee
And the bare thought gets me laughing
Thanks for nothing

The Love That Never Was

The very day you said no,
I turned my back on it,
Laid so much mud on top of it,
Bullied myself to let it go.

And I managed.

Drew countless breaths,
And didn’t think of you;
Heartbeats by the millions,
Not one memory of you.

Blood drains from my fake cool face.
Yet I choose to ignore the wounds.
Forgetting you has turned into a race,
And as I run, my soul dilutes.

I’m just hiding
And it shows.
This self-deceit wave, I keep riding.
I should already know.
The love that never was,
Is alive and biting,
I couldn’t just murder it so.

And if this love ever dies,
I’ll be crushed
By the weight of my own lies.
I was too scared to mourn,
And because of it,
No love without scars will be born.

Ayer fue su cumpleaños y no la felicité. No me parecía coherente romper un silencio de un año con un simple "feliz cumpleaños". Si decido hablarle al fin, he de darle explicaciones y no me apetece. Casi no me creo que haya transcurrido un año. Parece que fue ayer cuando le devolví sus cosas y ella me devolvió las mías, y yo le dije "feliz cumpleaños". Luego fuimos a cenar con su familia, y llegó el inevitable momento del brindis. "Per molts anys", dijo su padre sin ser consciente de la ironía que encerraban sus palabras, y yo me quise morir. Seguro que ayer salieron a cenar todos y volvieron a hacer el mismo brindis. Al menos esta vez no tuve que escucharlo.

Voided

I dread to imagine what your life is like,
To find you're better off after this hike.
It stings enough to have been erased,
To know our projects were mere whims.
Now my prospects seem twice as grim,
Knowing how easily I was replaced.

Hoy estaba escuchando la canción de George Harrison “My Sweet Lord” y pensé que el ex Beatle había perdido una oportunidad de oro al escribir la letra. Solo tenía que cambiar la palabra “Lord” por “love” y ahorrarse las tonterías como “Harekrishnah” y hubiera resultado una canción mucho más universal. “I really wanna see you, I really wanna meet you, I really wanna be with you, but it takes so long, my love”. Es algo en lo que pienso a menudo. Llevo más de un año sin salir con nadie y a veces veo muy cuesta arriba eso de encontrar pareja estable. A determinadas edades y si encima uno vive en una gran ciudad, donde la gente es más cerrada y casi no tiene tiempo para relacionarse, resulta muy difícil encontrar a alguien. Supongo que tarde o temprano, cuando menos me lo espere, la persona en cuestión entrará en mi vida. A veces, me pregunto quien será esa misteriosa mujer, que ahora es una desconocida para mi, pero que algún día será todo lo contrario. ¿Donde estará en este momento? Quizás me la he cruzado ya un día por la calle sin saberlo. Hoy, pensando en eso, escribí un poema (perdón, pero los poemas sólo me sale escribirlos en inglés). Ahí va:

My Intimate Stranger

You often cross my mind,
The one I have yet to find,
Oh, my love to be,
Supposedly the one for me.

On this contradiction, I ponder:
Your face is now a blank
Yet one day you’ll be first in rank.
Who are you? I wonder.

Are you the waitress from that bar,
Who often glances at me from afar?
Or may you be my next door neighbor,
The one who smiles at me, yet never says hi
Whenever she passes me by?
Maybe you’re playing hard to get
Or maybe we’ve never met.

If so, are you far away,
In some distant land?
Or across the street,
At the grasp of my hand?

And if indeed, my sweet,
We are bound to meet,
Please tell me and be true,
What is it about you
That will cause my heart to skip a beat?

How odd to think about it,
For we are now aliens.
Our minds out of tune,
Our bodies unacquainted,
Our moods in different phases of the moon.

Yet one day it will all change:
Suddenly, you’ll be in range,
I’ll spot you in this crowded room,
And you alone will vanish the gloom.

You’ll awaken the paradox of the kiss,
Which will keep me both hungry and fed.
Your lips I will constantly miss,
Even while they tease me in bed.

Be kind with me please.
Let me now where I stand.
Once I surrender the keys
It's out of my hands,
And my heart is in danger,
My Intimate Stranger.