THE SCIENCE POET

There is a wound in his hand,
and ironically the blood flows prudent;
as if knowing the beauty of the cut,
as if meditating the way to heal.
It didn't have the strenght to fight,
capitulating to the flowers' dots;
deft at inflicting the wound,
the wound he bears in his hand.
Enervated and pallid,
will still hold on to its life;
and no flower of the bosky shades
will dessicate its blood,
for it shall still give the shape
to the words of his many days.

 

Thank your for sharing your dad and his work it’s refreshing to read something about a father normally poems are written for the mothers. I like the way you write and to be truthful I enjoy your English writings more.

Best regrads,

 

Thank you too for making a pause to read my words.


DEJAVU

 

"Tu manera de escribir es muy tuya..." Y otra vez nos enseñas tu bella manera de escribir. No siempre facil, porque tú no eres facil, pero es entendable el contexto. Fue un placer.

Un abrazo
Karen

 

Cierto, este está un poco dificil de entender.
Pero tu paso lo adorna como siempre,
Un abrazo,


DEJAVU

 

Wow! Maestro, great poem!

I really loved these lines. Don´t stop writing in English, your excellence is evident.

 

Hey my friend, Welcome back!! Hope u had a good vacation full of great memories.
Will continue to do my best. Thank you for stopping by,
Take care,


DEJAVU