Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal


HALF BLIND

I look at the world half-blind.
It does not bother me.
I take my glasses off and see
the blurry mountains in the distance.
The afternoon light makes my eyes
water. It leaves me nearly blind.
I look at life with disappointment.
Dust is thrown in my face
by the passing busses. Lack of love
feels like soap in the eye.
Wounded, I keep my head up.
Perhaps love will come;
happiness ever after;
everything I missed out on.
This dark heart needs light.

AT THIS HOUR

At this hour

the sunrise hides
behind the mountain.

A brilliant cloud
veils the golden sun.

The rose wilts.

Life is good.

The flowery garden
awaits the sun
and welcomes the rain.

The greatness of this hour
must be divine.

FLOWERS FOR HER

I gather my thoughts as I gather
flowers. The hummingbird
watches me as does the butterfly.
The flowers are for the one I
love. The birds sing without
judgment. I choose yellow, red,
and white flowers. They are
sparkling with dew. In the early
morning I am half-awake. I want
to make a good impression on
the one I love. I think of sweet
words to say to her. The flowers
are brilliant. It starts to rain.
Still the birds remain singing.

© Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal 2012

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal's poetry has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Orion Headless, and Right Hand Pointing. Pygmy Forest Press published his first book, Raw Materials (2004). His latest, Peering Into The Sun, was published by Poet's Democracy (2011).

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