La Luna Nos Acerca

Bajo la luna es donde te encuentro.
Bajo la luna es donde estoy mas cerca de ti.
Es lo que me recuerda que no estamos tan lejos,
por que estas aqui, en mi corazon.
Y cuando miro el oceano que nos separa,
Y empiezo a sentir el dolor de las olas que nos empuja lejos,
Todo lo que puedo hacer es mirar arriva.
Por que todo es diferente a mi alrededor.
Pero arriva encuentro algo que compartimos.
Es la misma luna que nos alumbra cuando lloramos o sonreimos.


Autora: Nerea Duran.

The Moon Brings Us Closer.

Under the moon is where I find you.
Under the moon is where I'm closest to you.
Is what reminds me that we are not as far
because you are right here, in my heart.
And when I stare at the ocean that separates us,
and begin to feel the ache of the waves that pushes us away,
all I can do is look above
and stare at the very same moon that shines upon us.


Author: Nerea Duran

"Graffitti, A Caveman's Art."

They are here!

They haven’t disappeared.

They might look different than before, due to all those baggy clothes.

But I assure you they are still the same.

They just don’t paint with plant stains or animal blood.

They now use spray cans, but they still paint on our walls.

 

They wanna make sure they are remembered, spreading their art around.

Hoping that someday, someone, would look at their work and say, wow!

Just like we do now, when we see those animals and those hunters printed on those dark caves. 

They are here.

They haven’t disappeared.

They still paint in the dark.

Some people see them as criminals,

Others, well, they just see their art.

 
Poetry by Nerea Duran

 

Prose Poem. "My senses are protesting."

“Let me out!” my hair screams.
“All this gel is trapping the real me.”
Let me speak my own words.
Why are you keeping us in this dark hole?”

I remember being wild and free.
Like a kid that’s not aware of people's judgments.
Let me be free!
Let me be me!

I know we are different, but don’t be ashamed.
We don’t all have to be the same.
Let’s throw some wood in the fire that lives in your heart,
So that we can proclaim,
and show people that we don’t all have to be the same.
Don’t cover this flame.

By: Nerea Duran

Persona Poem: "I'm Just a Tool"

I will take you because it’s what I do.
Swim faster and harder or it will be the end of you!
Some people call me misery; others think I’m just a flu.
I think I’m the only one who can show you the truth.

I’m just a tool.
A harmful tool.
But I’m the only one who can release the better you.
Don’t think I take pleasure in this.
It’s just my job.
But I have no problem swallowing you if you don’t swim fast enough.

Some people learn by history.
Others need some pain.
Pain is motivation on these modern days.

I’m Just a tool.
A harmful tool.
A much needed tool.

By: Nerea Duran

"The Pigeon Who Saved The Day."

              It was Friday night when an old man walked into his favorite bar. He had been coming to the same bar for twelve years and, Oh boy! Did he have stories to share, but his cane and his long white beard did not attract too many visitors. In the bar, nothing had changed for years. The same old dusted moose head was on the wall next to the TV, and the jukebox played the same soft rock songs over and over again. Without having to say a word, the bartender who was almost his age, brought him his usual drink. As he drank his whisky, the old man noticed a baby in a stroller next to the ladies bathroom. He thought that was strange, but paid little attention to the baby, assuming that this mother of the year would get out of the bathroom any second now. Through the mirror behind the bar, he spotted a beautiful but lonely lady sitting on the sand of the beach in front of the bar. The old man was tired of been lonely so he decided to approach her.

“Hello miss, I don’t mean to disturb you, but you seem like you need some company. If you’d like, we can chat a little.” And pointing at the bar he said, “I’m in that bar having a drink.”

“Que?” the beautiful lady replied.

The old man realized that the lady spoke no English, but that did not stop him. Using sign language and the very few words he knew in Spanish, he pointed at the bar and said:

 “Hola amiga, you want to go there with me?”

As soon as he said those words, the old man realized that he might have sounded a little creepy, but to his surprise, the lady got up, smiled and said okay. Once in the bar, the old guy and the woman were having a good time. They were both smiling, having their drinks, listening to music while they tried to communicate with sign language and a word or two they knew in each other’s language.  In the bar, there were two very drunk skinny guys who were playing pool. They were shocked to see a beautiful woman with the creepy old guy. Approaching them, one of the drunk man stumbled the words:

 “What is a beautiful woman like you, doing wasting her time with this old man?”  “Excuse me, but did anyone call you here?” the old guy shouted.

 “Shut up Santa Claus!” yelled one of the drunken guys, making the other friend laugh by his comment.

No one expected the old man’s reaction when he grabbed his cane and hit the man in the head. The other guy helped his friend get up as he marked the floor with his blood.

“You are gonna wish you hadn’t done that!” said the injured man.

 “Let’s take this outside.”

 On their way out, the woman grabbed one of the balls from the pool table, just in case things got out of control. Outside the bar, the old guy tried to apologize for what had happened. The lady was serious, waiting to see what happened next. She did not understand half of their conversation, but there was no need for words to know that things were going to get ugly. The injured man was standing two inches away from the old guy’s face.

Silent took over for a couple of seconds. It was a very awkward moment until a pigeon flew above them and pooped on the beautiful woman’s head. They were all in shock, waiting to see how she would react. The woman started laughing and so did everyone else around. There was no fight that day, just another story to share that would titled the pigeon who saved the day.  

By: Nerea Duran

Villanelle poem / "Gone"

You’ve been gone for so long.

I lose track of time staring at the door every day.

I barely remember our song.

 

My ears patiently wait for the sound of ding-dong.

My mind yells you ran away!

You’ve been gone for so long.

 

My legs rush me to your room, to show me you are still gone.

My sight has painted my mood dark gray.

I barely remember our song.

 

Stress takes over me, ever since you moved on.

The proof is reflected on the overwhelm ashtray.

You’ve been gone for so long.

 

My spirit is not longer strong.

I taste bitter and look decay.

I barely remember our song.

 

Leaving your daughter behind was wrong.

You should have stayed.

You’ve been gone for so long,

I barely remember our song.


By: Nerea Duran

Free Verse Poem. / "Trapped."

 
Your memory is what ties me to this place.

I’m a prisoner of your promise.

I should have shielded my mind from your piercing lies.

Now I’m nailed to these streets we once walked together.

Revisiting our past, as I walk alone holding no one’s hand.


By: Nerea Duran