poetic addiction

Poems
drive me crazy,
but they are only the tip of the ice cream.

I believe poems are an addiction.

We were meant to walk the treadmill
to run on the garages
to drink some water and lots of whisky,
to make love like poetry,
with imagination and like tigers,
growls and all, not like rabbits.

I was born to look at the pacific
and fly out to the sunset,
to shine in the sun and sell some poetry.

Who would buy a poem...?

Fidel Guerra
Oregon, Nov, 18, 2019.

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Fidel, I would buy a poem, especially if the tip of the ice cream was strawberry.
I enjoyed reading your poem this early morning, glad to have you here,

XOXOXO

 

Thanks, dear poet and friend Fidel, for delighting us with this poem, which is a surprising new luxury, product of your inexhaustible imagination. Thank you for making us your companions in everything you think we are destined to do.

I would buy all your poems if you allowed me to pay you with the virtual currency of my admiration.

With my congratulations, another big and fraternal hug,

Ulpiano

 

Guadalupe,
good morning to you.

Well, when I was growing up we had a convenience store in Reynosa, but my dad used to send my brothers and I to sell bread and fruit at the bus stop and other busy corners.

At times he will visit us to check on the merchandise, and us as well and sometimes he found me writing strange little messages to my then young girlfriend...wow! You can imagine the story. That' s when he mentioned something I will never forget…can you sell poems here? Go back to work!

I think it is silly to think about selling individual poems, but you know the saying:. " Only in America" so I have fun writing my mind in this unthinkable way.

I think you already know that I replace " the tip of the Iceberg for the Ice Cream...it's sweeter and less cold.

I wish I could write some more...but work is calling me.

Hugs,
Fidel Guerra

 

Dear poet Ulpiano,
I'm glad you liked my simple poem. I think is good to share, at least I feel great joy and profound satisfaction when I read your messages...this is the virtual currency we are talking about, the one you write and read and makes you feel ample and complete as a poet, as a normal human being ...just propinas de palabras.

I would like to apologize for any mistakes or confusion on my response.

I finished my lunch break...so, thanks again.

Kindly,
Fidel Guerra

 

Fidel, I totally understand exactly what you mean. When I was eleven I wrote a short story in school and won first place it was shortly after we moved to the US from Monterrey, and I thought that my mom would be so proud, instead she said, " eso es cosa de flojos y no vinimos aqui para ser flojos" well that shot my dreams down real quick..lol

Sending lots of support and you keep on writing no matter what and when you publish your book I will be honored to buy it...

Your friend,

 

Guadalupe,
I have great memories of Monterrey. I felt the rhythm and pressure of a great city, its beautiful night lights from the roof of my aunt’s house. I really loved the stream of car lights on the road...always in a perfect choreography, like a river of painted lights that, as a young boy, just hypnotized the hell out of me.

Una tía vive por el cerro de la campana. Por allá pasé bellas navidades y gocé de la perfecta visión del cerro de la silla...oh, siempre que salíamos de Reynosa a Monterrey el corazón me latía más y más por la espera de mirar a tan bella montaña.

In regards to my writings, my mom was the very breath of my first weird poetic words. In fact, she always gave me the thumbs up when she saw me with the pen on the paper, perhaps because she couldn’t.

Muchas gracias por la oferta de ser mi futura clienta poética,

abrazos,
fidel guerra.

 

Well, I'll buy you a poem, I'll pay with one of my desserts, a dulce de leche and cream cake, moistened with sweet coffee and covered with chocolate and grated coconut
I like reading you here, my friend.
Don't heal of this addiction.
Hugs.

 

Dear Cecy,
around here the sun's out...but the air spangles with a delicious desire for you tasteful dessert…

My heart is light and my imagination ready to run down your way, not with the speed of sound or light, but that of the infinite mystery we call God just to enjoy your dulce cake and poetic company.

Pues mi amiga, muy amable de su parte me acompañe otra vez por mis poemas.

I am
watching my watch,
my work load
and It is time for me to go back to it..

Hugs to you,

Fidel.

 

Beautiful... kisses and hugs

 

Dear Anie,
good morning and thank you for being on the marginal side of literature---my poetry and surviving it.

The natural history of my thoughts is characterized by repeated episodes of local locuras and a generally loving outcome.

La addiction poética causa fracturas en el alma...y el escribir, así sean respuestas o comentarios, es un tratamiento...a relief in poets with lesiones de letras.

Os llegan besos, abrazos y fuertes suspiros por un bienestar y amor siempre para contigo.

Fidel Guerra.