All posts tagged: poem

Golden Orange Hues

Golden hues filter in through the window As night falls slowly and the air becomes crisp. In the distance, the bridge’s towers gently pierce the tinted sky And the waves roll in, crashing softly, Coming and going, coming and going. A woman sings sweetly Playing gorgeous melodies with her guitar. The travelers listen intently, enraptured. The magic is palpable, created with each song And destroyed once again with each forthcoming silence. The guitar allows itself to be strummed generously, As the darkness outside engulfs everything in its path. The warm lights inside the cafe are cozy and welcoming, Offering a safe space to connect, to write, to dream, To breathe in the beauty of this moment And of this life. Mahalo, soul of mine, For your generous gifts of song, of word, of breathtaking views, And of pure light. Photo by: Belén Alemán


I stood firmly on the cooling, white sand, Feet shoulder-length apart, Feeling the weight of my camera underneath my bare hands, The warm breeze softly enveloping me in its gentle caress As the sun, barely visible now over the distant horizon, Played with the clouds and helped them taint the sky with mild hues of yellow and gray. The familiar smell of sun-tan lotion emanated from my skin Mixing in with the unique fragrances of a midsummer evening’s dream. Seagulls wove in and out of my line of vision, Floating up above as if threatening to strike, Trying to instill a fear in me that would never exist For I was much too accustomed already to this sight. The events of the day hung lazily in the air, Slowly becoming part of the memories I would never share With people I would never meet. Cheerful words, piercing looks, joyful laughter, Maybe even some tears from a mischievous child… All lingered for a few eternal seconds Before finally being replaced by a peaceful silence Aided by …

A Borrowed Pearl

So You Want to Be a Writer if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don’t do it. if you’re doing it for money or fame, don’t do it. if you’re doing it because you want women in your bed, don’t do it. if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don’t do it. if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it, don’t do it. if you’re trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, do something else. if you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to …