Poems by Marcela Villar M. – USA

Poems by  Marcela Villar M. – USA



Fragmented Poetics

I think sometimes,
in an effort to sell reflections
of life,
egotistic mirrors
brake themselves
in a million pieces.

Fractured verses,
bent and poisoned,
deformed from the ill-treatment
of delicate lines;
echoes of poetry.


©All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014
 




Hunting

There is an unbreakable
silence
inside the snout
of hungry and weary
dogs,
(after running
by dark passageways)

The howls can be heard
from the famished interior
of their voices,
they are the shadows
of their own agonies
pursuing them
in a mad hunt.


©All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014
 



Oscillations

The walls of glass,
covered with a soft touch
of incandescent sand,
that does not want to hide you
as if in rebellion.

And there you are,
resting your chosen captivity.

Dirty walls.

Impossible to clean from the outside,
from where I look at them unable to see
the experiments
bowing to fate.

They hide from my eyes,
yours,
in a chastened flirtation
of pagan oscillations.

Silence keeps you concealed
from yourself
and
me,
but not from the shadows.


© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014

 


Cold

Is on my face that I feel
the soft smoothness of the snow
when I lay my body on
the crisp and cold winter whiteness
of the already fallen crystals.

I hear my own thoughts
tell me so much while
a cold air enters into my lungs,
but we're friends, the cold and I.
We used to talk of love
in times gone.


©All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014
 



Songs of the Nightingale

Digging the inevitable losses,
as if in pathetic markets
of transactions and exchanges.

The windows open to the sunset
and there is no light to save us
from our own darkness.

We love the shadows in the light,
we smile to rain when drops,
we undressed the breeze passing surly.

We fall into desperate flare.
We cry the songs of the Nightingale,
we hope for the beloved love in the mouth.

Our own fragility succumbs us,
we are elements all altered,
there is no waking up in uncertainty.

©All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014