Archivo de la categoría: English Poems

Stealing Arts

I have stolen books
poetry books

I was a poetry
book
thief

I was poor, I am still poor

Later
I specialized in
stealing
underwear
and fine
lingerie

I also assaulted hearts and mini skirts

And now…
I spend my time
assaulting photos on instagram

Times change,
my fingers dont

G.F.Molinero

 


Omens

Omens come to me in this way: 

I will kiss a blue butterfly

Trembling on my knees
I will have succumbed to her
I will understand
the meanings of
the new
anthropocene
era

And…
slowly
I will say her name
as a blessing blowing up from my own self

G.F.Molinero


Gruvdrift / Brytning

Writing poetry 
building a poem
looking for the right vein
the right words

A desperated
mining
exercise
to reach you
to reach  your heart
or whatever

Regardless
of
the order

Or whichever comes first

Writing poetry
building a poem…

I keep digging
to name you
over and over again
(as you know)

G.F.Molinero


Railroads and Crossing Legs


Leaving the rail station behind
you decide to cross your legs
while Seatle slips into your eyes
from the other side of the window

On the other hand
I just decide
to pay more atention to your legs
and tie them
to my wandering
and restless
mind

That’s the point of  this poem
A last
effort
to remember it

 

G.F.Molinero


Sinking

I sank my words
under the sheets of your bed
the only way to touch your skin
to reach your heart
A kind of
book-shaped lifeguard
that brings my soul closer to you
in a
last
desperate
act of  salvation

G.F.Molinero


The facts and the Alternative Facts

I am a fail, You know
well… peharps I am a good one
but, really, I am a fail
a failed man
a failed poet
a failed lover

Anyway
I know
everything is subject to improvement
or to be fixed
when I feel  you lie down beside me when I wake up in the mornings

G.F.Molinero


Love Train Poem

Only a few times
I’ve written about trains
long ones
short ones
suburban ones
I’ve written
about
the green
north
line
bordering the shore of a lake
or about the silver line crossing the Potomac
while travelling through the arteries of a
city
nation
heart
Even..
I’ve written about Anna and her jump
and her reason
for doing so

Anyway 
in all these times
I’ve been writing about trains
you always were inside them

in all of them

Inside
in
every
train

or love poem

like this one

 

G.F.Molinero


Alexia and the Perpetual Motions (late love poem)

I know
it’s raining  outside  the window
You ask for it  but …
I dont feel like getting out of  bed to check it for you
I’d rather
to be as close as possible to you
under the sheets
hoping for,
in the inertia of love,
your instinctive body
will eventually end up embracing mine

And It happens
And I just let it happens.

It’s still raining outside

I know it

G.F.Molinero


Through the pages of a book

1f40c436-2644-4694-88fa-7e485fb6bc83-01.jpegI flipped
through the pages of a book
wishing I could have flipped
through the pages of your
white
and
opened blouse

reading something
about your breasts or
your erect nipples,
hard as stones,
sensitives
to the slightest contact with your blouse.

Never before…
I had  dreamed
of being
a kind of
geologist
or alpinist,
reader-alpinist
or reader-geologist-alpinist
and…
in a last  case
be a kind of
dreamer
failed
lover.

G.F.Molinero


Fixing Things

I am not a great lover but I can fix it

p20170111-234457-1.jpgI can make
I can build
I can write a little poem…

to fix it

to get your panties down
moistening your arch
to fuck, to love you
intense and desperately

I have my own way to do it

like this poem ending right here in this eleventh verse… as you know.

G.F.Molinero

 


A 2 Janurary Poem

Wearing
long
winter
stockings
on her birthday,
she moves around the room
without stopping.

While I am lying on the bed
I let my hands
be the longing ones,
the craving ones falling on her
trying to take down this wonderful and faster creature.

Desperately,
like the hungry one who tries to catch his prey to satisfy the hunger,
I try to reach her
and I get it
And I receive my prize.

When she shouts my name
I have reached all my goals today.

Outside the window
the sun shines on a cold winter morning.

All is ok

G.F.Molinero


A Vision

img_20161206_135043_processed.jpg
One day
I will ask for help in the same way that he does
And I will find the same emptiness
the same silences
the same kind of rejection
And…
at another place
another poet
sitting on his bed
will be thinking about the possibility that
there is a poet who is doing the same just in that moment:
asking for help
and finding emptiness
finding silence
finding…
the most
absolute
rejections

 

G.F.Molinero


A Prayer

 

img_20161207_233634_processed.jpg

Maiden of solitude, bearer of light,
lead me through these woods
lead me through these misty rivers
lead me through these glowing hills.

Oh, maiden of solitude,
my heart full of clouds,
lead me to a safety house
dress me in a winter coat
to fight against  despair.

Oh, maiden of solitude
lead me thorugh my darkness
lead me through my blindness
to you.

G.F.Molinero


Eleven Times She Wants to Say my Name

img_20161206_135043_processed.jpgLoving You
in all your silences and their ambushes
On the uncertainty of the progress
Or regress

Loving You
Hungry of you
Thirsty of you
And never be satisfied

And never be satisfied

G.F.Molinero


Waving You

20150602_020309-01

I wonder

if

loving you

is

like

surfing a wave

or fleeing away from you

and your tsunami,

inland,

up to the hill.

 

An act

of complete

despair.

G.F.Molinero

 


Losses

I’ve lost my shadow.

I’ve lost a book.

I’ve lost my master.

And now…

I’m afraid I’m losing myself

or losing you

too.

 

That’s how this November

works on me.

G.F.Molinero


A Brief Prayer

In the dark
you come near to me
letting your hand
falling on me.

It’s the way you have
to pray to your gods.

I have nothing to say.

Quietly
I let you perform your prayers

Without bothering you

G.F.Molinero


At the Death of the Inmortals

 

wpid-20140824_010208_1.jpg

I live absent of a poem
absent of me
absent of myself

Without streets
Without hurries
Without dogs

I live without you
absent of you

Without words or times or spaces

I live…
filled with distances and longings

I live…
absent of me

Absent of you

G.F.Molinero


Ella y El Sexo Matutino

wpid-CameraZOOM-20130427033221090.jpgGive me
your morning sex
your holy flesh
of blood
and skinned sheets

Feed me
before  the rising sun arrives
before your scudding shadows
fall on me

Then, my love,
leave me
fleeing
running far away from me
from my body
from my deep desire
of die
or never
have
been

 

G.F.Molinero


Erotic poem for a Summer Eleven Day

As the green and wild grass
She grows in my summers

Catching me
Climbing me
Conquering me

And…
She is soft in her rubbings,
gentle in her movements
skillful before my body’s warnings
when I look at her
and she bows her back
letting me
to make my way

Letting me to make my way

G.F.Molinero