Sunday, May 28, 2017

Magic. 707.

Beauty, Beautiful Shadow.  facing me.  the sun to my back. facing the avocado tree out back.
buttery rich matte red shimmering in the Miami sun.  same moonlight. planetary reflections.
Magic. I am magic. Magic. Magical. a red rose. a 707 red rose. energized by the sun. My petals slowly opening revealing my glowing growing core. core. in bright incandescent yellow.  bright yellow painted parking concrete stop. Our sun. dot. dot. dot. staring. staring. blinded by my bright core. dot. dot. dot.

707 Rose.  2017, Stella Santamaria

Friday, May 26, 2017

poema perdido y encontrado en papel rosado

No hay nada peor
que tener una corona
y no saber que la tenias

No hay nada peor
No hay nada peor

Hay no Hay
nada peor
que estar ocupado
rellenandote de aire
frio, caliente, tibio

No hay nada peor que
registrar tu libro
despues del tsunami

No hay nada peor
No hay nada peor

que pensar que
la vida te debe
una explicacion

no hay nada peor
que llorar
por alguien que
nunca te quizo

ni te valoro
ni sabia de tu

en los planetas

No hay nada  peor
que tener inspiraciones
de limpieza a
la una de la manana

*este poema fue encontrado y dice 13 de marzo no tiene fecha exacta...(no year just march 13)

it is on pink lined paper so it's probably from one of my journals...

Thursday, May 11, 2017

roses & the Napa satellite

the Napa mountain speaks
trying to decipher

the mountain speaks
every red rock
every redwood
shadowing our way

the mountain speaks
it does

trying to decipher
every lone peacock
looking for his peahen

white rose bush
covered in tulle

the mountain speaks
warm springs underneath

it sent a message

red velvet roses from
a stranger
from a faraway place

the California mountains speak
they tell me
they tell me

to get lost
get lost

and again.

but why?
I've done nothing wrong

the mountains speak
whisper in the tropical trees
mango, avocado

to come back
to come back

get lost there
get lost
where the caramel soft deer
the moon accompanied us
winding road in neutral
running out of gas

with U2 blaring
two cell phones charged
with no satellite
no satellite

watch the peacock
display its feathers

I left
I left

before that.

peacock looking for peahen.  2017, Stella Santamaria