Listening to the Wind

 

—Photo by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal

—Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal 

West Covina, CA

—Other Photos Courtesy of Public Domain 

 

LOCK HANDS

I will send you a postcard
of the brown mountains.
The beauty in nature is
extra beautiful in this town.

Here we could be happy.
I got my smile back.
Come and take my hand
and the other one too.

I had grown restless.
I just had to go away.
I look everywhere for you
from the hotel window.

There is easy living here
where the smiles are kind.
Let’s lock hands together.
Let’s go out in style.

 

 

 

 

 

WIND ENTERS

Wind enters and exits.
Wind lingers sometimes.
Sometimes cold.
Sometimes warm.
It soothes and it destroys.
It whips up fires.
Sends the flames.
Throws you rain.
Wind untamed.
Sometimes wild.
Sometimes without restraint.

 

 

 

 

 

GO TO SILENCE

Motionless,
I shudder
as I go
to silence.

Sickness fills
my heart. A
day and a
night without

you. Helpless,
my chest hurts.
Sounds of birds
in the trees

and prairies
don’t move me.
I listen
to the wind.

 

 

 

 

 

WAVES

Waves
deep
as
land
becomes
extinct.

Waves
wash
over
tears
of
sadness.

Waves
engulf
this
land
of
killers.

Waves
silence
all
of
us
tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

LISTENING TO THE VOICES

I came in to work.
The day was waiting.
I took it on and
I did my best. I

spent many hours on
the phone listening
to the voices of
people wishing for

better things. Face it,
I want better things
too. I listen to
them on the road home.

The voices stay with
me. In my house I
hear the voices too. I
cannot get to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

ONE DAY

One day I will come around
and one day I will touch moonlight
and become paralyzed.
Being under the radar is fine
with me. I live in a dream
where life is more comforting.
I do not dance but I sing.
Public places give me anxiety.
I stay off the sidewalk as much
as I can and wear the same shoes
I have been wearing for months.

One day I will come around.
It is easier to lay down and rest.
I rise in the morning to go to work.
It feels wrong to go everyday.
It is a necessity that will end one day.

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

DIG
—Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal

These hands that dig
the earth without
gloves will one day
be six feet deep

under the earth.
They will not be
touched by wind or
rain. They will not

dig or make a
fist. Without gloves,
they will remain.

_____________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Luis Berriozabal for today’s poems, as he brings us the wind~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For upcoming poetry events in
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click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
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Just remember:
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for poetry, of course!

 

 LittleSnake’s scarf against
the wind