Everybody is talking about letting go these days. I read about it everywhere. People seem to be obsessed with the notion of "letting go". I understand it completely, but the more I ponder the concept of letting go, the more I realize that in order to let go, you have to do the opposite. First of all, if you need…
So I wrote a poem about time that I haven't published because I didn't really like it and I realized that I needed to develop the whole time subject better. It seems to me that time is the only actual real thing that exists. And the curious thing about it, is that time comes more or less in equal form…
I'm sick and tired of seeing headlines that read something like: "How real women look", "This is how a real woman works out," "Real women have curves," etc. Well... I get the feeling the people who write these articles have underlying complexes. Because what I see everywhere are real women. Some are skinny, some are fat, some are beautifully well-rounded, and none…
Hay momentos de silencio... de sentirMomentos donde no caben las palabrasDonde las lágrimas valen mejor Hay momentos de sueñoCuando el letargo se mezcla con la melancolía de besos del antañoMomentos cuando la tinta busca el papel Hay momentos de euforiaDe risas inexplicablesY brillos compartidos...Momentos que bastan Hay momentos que quedanQue sólo esperan el recuerdo para revivirseHay momentos invisibles...Como ahora. © 2014 Maricel Jiménez Peña 1/21/2014
The economy is dwindling, apparently all over the world. Why? Frankly, I find global economy to be one of the most perplexing subjects to discuss. To this day, I don't feel I truly understand it. However, from observing how things seem to be working in this day and age, the conclusion about economy looms over my head like a vulture.…
Sufre, ¿o soy yo? Con cada golpe del machete Cada trazo de la sierra que lo debilita Cada brazo que deja de ser Sufro, por el verde que ha caído el oxígeno robado de mis pulmones y los nidos que no serán Sufre innecesariamente ¿Para qué? ¿Para qué? Sufro por la sombra que cobijaba los niños Por la iguana que…
No hay nada aquíSólo cenizasPedazos de ayerUna memoria fugazUn recuerdoUna ilusión. © 2001 Maricel Jiménez Derechos reservados.
Me doy cuenta de que crezcoCrezco como enredadera trepando los postesMe observo de arriba y crezco Crezco,Convirtiéndome en mujerDe la niña retengo la habilidad de soñarCon la mujer adquirí el dolor de la realidadLa Diosa me concede una sonrisaY piernas fuertes para bailar La barba del Viejo brillaPlateada bajo la luz de la lunaMe inunda de sus pensamientosAlimentando los míos Y crezco,Crezco porque no…
Today I've been pondering happiness. Some people say happiness is the purpose of life. Me, I don't think so. Happiness is not the goal of life; it's not something we acquire or reach. According to all those self-help books, it cannot depend on other people. So what is happiness? According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, happiness is: a. a state of well-being…
The baby birds have flown! Recently I posted about a mother bird who had nested in my flower box. In my last post, the baby birds were already full feathered, but still had not flown. I had mentioned how the mother had been cooing at them from the floor and that I thought she was trying to encourage flight. Well,…