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Within those words lie lots of things We never get to say.

Anuel AA - Street Poem [Official Audio]

It means I love you first of all, Then thanks for all you do. It means you mean a lot to me, And that I honor you.

POESIA PARA LA GENTE | Avenue 50 Studio

But most of all, I guess it means That I am thinking of Your happiness on this, your day, With pleasure and with love. O is for its origin in love.

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T is for the tenderness of seeing. H is for a home no wind can move.

Ana Guadalupe: três poemas / three poems

E is for the ecstasy of living. R is for the recklessness of giving. An amniotic universe is rare. Paradises aren't found with others, Perhaps because we must breathe our own air.

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Yet even after paradise, we find Mothers are a bath of warm affection. Only mothers' love is truly blind To guarantee all errant souls protection. However we find love, it can be only Evanescences of memories Retained from when we never could be lonely, 'Ere we left our mother's outsized knees. So good it is to have that happiness Designed to grace each subsequent caress, All future love and joy to underlie, Yearning backwards towards a mother's sigh. Mothers are the sun that lights For life our inner sky, So we may know that we are loved And need not question why.

Flutter and Hum / Aleteo y Zumbido: Animal Poems / Poemas de Animales

Mothers are the moon that shines Upon our black despair, So even when we weep, we know That someone's always there. We shall extract it like an evil tooth that up to now has bitten the heart of man. When I look at the shape of America on the map, my love, it is you I see: the heights of copper on your head, your breasts, wheat and snow, your slender waist, swift throbbing rivers, sweet hills and meadows and in the cold of the south your feet end its geography of duplicated gold.

And thus my spacious country welcomes me, little America, in your body. Still more, when I see you lying down I see in your skin, in your oaten color, the nationality of my affection.

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  • Because from your shoulders the cane cutter of blazing Cuba looks at me, covered with dark sweat,. And so along your body, little adored America, the lands and the peoples interrupt my kisses and your beauty then not only lights the fire that burns unquenched among us but with your love it is calling to me and across your life it is giving me the life that I lack and to the taste of your love is added the clay, the kiss of the earth that waits for me.

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    The fact that just before his death he had planned to go to Mexico to raise opposition from abroad against the military regime has led to considerable speculation on the possibility that he might have been murdered. Despite a curfew to prevent his funeral from becoming a public event, thousands of mourners crowded the streets to honor him. Amor, no amamos, como quieren los ricos, la miseria.