Esta vida que juego (Prosa poética) This life I play (Poetic prose)
Este poema fue escrito inspirado en el tema anterior "Vida" de #BlockchainPoets, no pude publicarlo en su momento pero aquí se los dejo para su lectura y apreciación.
Está vida que juego
La mujer quedó petrificada, quedó con esa mirada que no mira, en esa casa de barro, que las uñas rasgan para saciar los sueños,
se quedó quieta con esa mano ofrecida al hambre, agarrada a la lucha por sobrevivir a cuatro muchachos, ellos son la columna, para sostener la derrota y mantienen su vida en un hilo,
equilibrismo innecesario.
La soledad viste las madrugadas, mientras las manos se agarran de los recuerdos, para no borrar las aventuras que no terminaron de nacer.
Ahora remo en este río que no se repite, entre las aguas que la imaginación permea,
soy está vida que se construye de palabras, sujeto a los pilares que la soledad endurece.
Hay que sobrellevar la carga, sin psicólogos, sin médicos para amortizar la salud.
Eso sí, con el tarot develando los dolores, las deficiencias de felicidad,
esperando que los espíritus hagan milagros.
Consultando el horóscopo para conocer el augurio de los astros. Hay que salir blindado, nunca faltan las malas influencias.
En la mesa de juego la mano lanza los dados, el destino sonríe, mientras la ruleta marca el camino, ganamos o perdemos la apuesta. La muerte saca una carta, muestra el juego.
La esperanza es la luz que ya no podrás ver. Se apaga y se enciende, es la llama olímpica que todos sostienen y corren.
La vida sigue.
This poem was written inspired by the previous theme "Life " of #BlockchainPoets, I couldn't publish it at the time but here I leave it for your reading and appreciation.
This life I play
The woman was petrified, she remained with that look that does not look, in that house of mud that the nails tear to satisfy the dreams,
She remained with that hand offered to hunger, clinging to the struggle to survive four boys, they are the column, to sustain the defeat and keep her life on a thread,
an unnecessary balancing act.
Loneliness dresses the early mornings, while the hands hold on to the memories so as not to erase the adventures that were not born in the end.
Now I paddle in this river that does not repeat itself, among the waters permeated by imagination,
I am this life built of words, subject to the pillars that loneliness hardens.
It is necessary to bear the burden, without psychologists, without doctors to amortize the health.
Yes, with the tarot that reveals the pains, the lack of happiness,
waiting for the spirits to work miracles.
Consult the horoscope to know the omen of the stars. It is necessary to go out armored, bad influences are never lacking.
At the gambling table the hand throws the dice, destiny smiles, while the roulette wheel marks the way, we win or lose the bet. Death draws a card, shows the game.
Hope is the light you can no longer see. It flickers on and off, it's the Olympic flame that everyone holds and runs with.
Life goes on.
Las imagenes fueron generadas con Bing, IA de MicrosotfThe images were generated with Bing, Microsotf's AI. and edited with PhotoScape
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
https://x.com/Silher1959/status/1778933297935945817
@tipu curate 8
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Gracias poeta.
Death draws the card, I assume a red card in a game of soccer when players are sent off.
Hope is just like the time and effort to end the soccer game.
Nice exposition and concept.
Keep to that
Here the letter represents the end of life, hence the culmination of hope, only the living can keep running after it.
Thank you for commenting. Greetings.
Welcomed sir.
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