Sin categoría

The ginger girl

A youthful girl she was. Ginger as a child. Her hair deep red as the hiding sun during sunset. Her skin, white as the falling snow, covered up in freckles,and the touch of her arms almost like leather.
Wide blue eyes she had, and a mysterious look,in tune with being somehow part of a thriller book
Gentle in her walk, she crossed hidden streets looking at no-one while she peeped.
No touch or sound would be pronounced in order to evade her being found.
Though immersed in her joyful game, the ginger girl seemed not to exist. Only an old lady, mad as a cow, was convinced a young lady she had seen.

‘This teen, freckles and white skin she has, and comes to visit me every time.’

‘Nobody, but you madam, has seen her before. Who is it you are talking about so much so?’

‘She died, a few years ago, but her spirit has remained lingering all alone. She believes she’s still alive, playing hide and seek with no-one around. She craves love and wishes for kindness. That, which on her living years she didn’t get. That’s why she lingers. That’s why she stays. And I wish for her wellness and for someone caring in return. So she can leave to rest in peace, where she belongs, and can remain long.’


#story #ginger #girl #ghost #phanthom #oldlady #caring #love #linger

Sin categoría

Dear Argentina

And now I’m right here
with the shadow of a tear,
recalling those days
when we could play
with no pervasive dismay.

What has become of you
dear country of mine?
Will you ever re-emerge
from the ashes left behind?
Will you ever heal from the utter damage history has set down on you?

There’s crisis and quarrels,
disputes and struggles.
There’s people fighting back,
wanting to attack.
There’s chaos all over the city,
Homeless people loosing their dignity.
There’s mattresses on the streets.
Bodies lying in defeat.

And I’m only right here
With the shadow of a tear,
tucked up in my bed,
covered up with a duvet,
just holding a paper and pen.

…I’ve already lost a beat…


#poetry #argentina #dearcountry #chaos #struggles #crisis #feelings #reflections #thoughts

Short stories

Old introverted man

He was an old man whose inspiration was hold in high in every village of the county.
He was used to walking long hours all along the river valleys with his walking stick.
The children would gather around, asking him to tell them some stories of his life as a marine.
Whenever he agreed, he sat down on a rock immersed in his past and the kids would listen attentively as if a secret was about to be revealed.
He talked about the big waves at sea, and the ferocious winds that would blow away his beret, making him run desperately to chase that precious belonging.

He was a shy fellow, so he didn’t speak too much with the other marines. They were tough and of a large size making this young and skinny chap feel out of place.
For that reason, out at sea, he would read a whole lot of books and write out his soul, enjoying every second his inner life.
An introvert, one would say, and a kindred spirit as well.

Now, as an old man, he stays in silence pretty much all the while but when the time comes when he should recite his watery adventures at sea… That’s when his eyes begin to moisten, telling stories by themselves.

Highly Sensitive Person, Thoughts

You, me and some body

As we meet up at a coffee store
you look into my eyes not frightened at all.

I, on the other hand, struggle and evade your sight,
searching for your lips as a way to hide.

My mind runs away, while my body stays,
acting as a barrier between both ourselves. 

I do like you, but do not like me,
rejecting the whole which I see.

I excuse myself to the ladies room
while you at the table stay
watching me walk away.

There, I look into the mirror,
and ask the person standing in front of me…

Is my image distorted?
Because that’s so unfortunate.
When I’m trying my best to keep present, nonturbulent.

I wish I could go back and meet you at the table again.
But my frame is the only one there and I have left you plain.

I dispise my shape deep in my soul.
Though I desire no hatred and that’s all I’ve got.

It’s not you and me anymore.
It’s you and some body which has parted from my whole.


dreams, poetry

My dreams in a kite

When I was a child,
I used to fly a kite.
Thought my dreams would come true.
As it reached the full moon.

It used to get up high
and be lost in the sky.
But one day,
while the fiercest wind blew,
my precious kite away flew.

My dreams had gone far,
I thought,
never to come back,
and with my illusions it went,
So they weren’t to be meant.

As time passed by,
and could stop the sigh,
I recognised my mistake
Concluding that painful ache.

My dreams hadn’t left me,
They were all the time by me,
But I couldn’t believe it,
As a child’s life is fantastic.

Ma. Lulu

Lifestyle, poetry, Thoughts


‘Every wrinkle tells a story’

Since we are born, the only real reason for us being alive is the presence of love.

In spite of this understanding, we sometimes try to avoid it, wishing to deal with no pain at all.

Some souls mate easier tan others, finding their loved ones as life flows.

But, those other souls which have it harder, get into a ride full of bumps and crossroads, not knowing where to go.

They find it difficult to deal with romantic encounters and end up running around in circles, keeping at arm’s length possible kindred wholes.

As time goes by, and most souls have already mated, wrinkles, though in silence, speak their truth, showing how straight or warped their lifeline was drawn.

The picture of a lifetime on a face.

The painting of a loveline, done with a brushstroke, touching the wrinkle of an old and experienced grace.

Ma. Lulu

dreams, poetry, Thoughts

Embrace your humanity

When deep in my dreams

I wonder about life.

I twist it and mix it,

bringing chaos to my sight.

I find myself holding trophies,

irrupting into other bodies,

Connecting things which really don’t match.

I meet different people,

see others i’ve lost,

wondering about asking,

where did they go.

I lose all humanity,

Imprisoned by insanity,

Experimenting feelings of really no joy.

The dreams become nightmares,

everything turning dark.

Creature craves disappearance,

but just falls appart.

She hysterically tries to hide,

wishing she could fly.

But passages and alleys, won’t grant her a spark.

Play along with life

who knows what you need,

and nothing will happen

It won’t happen indeed.

Beautiful soul,

wake up and let go.

Embrace your humanity, and pain will be gone.

Ma. Lulu