Dear friends and readers:
Once the valuation of the Jury of Poems and Tales, then put the winners, not without first thanking all for your participation and I encourage you to continue with your great ability to create, which is well demonstrated in your contributions in the previous post posted on this blog.
out of competition is awarded the Prize for Good Blogger Jesse, for their continued work and help other writers through social networks and his own blog.
Regards to all
STORIES
was a quiet woman, looking rather sad, almost never smiled, he had no friends and no one with which to share their dreams, their joys dwelling at the bottom of a bottomless pit, his lyrics on paper and only during the day. Wrote and wrote without stopping, almost without looking up the sheet of paper.
occasionally looked his hands and stopped writing, and looking resigned, he closed his eyes and wandered out into the world that only existed in his imagination, lost worlds full of screaming letters come to light, a doubt in the air for solution every day, plans "a" giving way to plan "B" respectively. Hopes and dreams that refused to die, mercilessly beating ideas not to fall into oblivion, words looking for a verb, adjective, subject searching, struggling to gain ground anguish, lost illusions looking for a writer to allow them to live again, again exist, return to vibrate and feel again.
Almost midnight, the undertaker opened the door and into your home. It's been a tiring day but like every night, goes directly to the desktop of his wife, there are the sheets of paper filled with letters, letters that are born of silence, letters will not see light again tomorrow letters may be written in red ink or perhaps with blue ink. Look at the statements
tenderly caresses writing with emotion, cries and takes off with his hand the tears shed, open the hall closet, pulls out his shovel and goes to the garden, there, as every night, not only bury their letters, also buried emotions, hopes, dreams and future.
His wife watches from the bedroom window. His face is not sad, now with a smile sweet smile, now understands, now sees the light, now knows that tomorrow is to keep writing, you have to live with the daily letters, letters that night her husband buried.
occasionally looked his hands and stopped writing, and looking resigned, he closed his eyes and wandered out into the world that only existed in his imagination, lost worlds full of screaming letters come to light, a doubt in the air for solution every day, plans "a" giving way to plan "B" respectively. Hopes and dreams that refused to die, mercilessly beating ideas not to fall into oblivion, words looking for a verb, adjective, subject searching, struggling to gain ground anguish, lost illusions looking for a writer to allow them to live again, again exist, return to vibrate and feel again.
Almost midnight, the undertaker opened the door and into your home. It's been a tiring day but like every night, goes directly to the desktop of his wife, there are the sheets of paper filled with letters, letters that are born of silence, letters will not see light again tomorrow letters may be written in red ink or perhaps with blue ink. Look at the statements
tenderly caresses writing with emotion, cries and takes off with his hand the tears shed, open the hall closet, pulls out his shovel and goes to the garden, there, as every night, not only bury their letters, also buried emotions, hopes, dreams and future.
His wife watches from the bedroom window. His face is not sad, now with a smile sweet smile, now understands, now sees the light, now knows that tomorrow is to keep writing, you have to live with the daily letters, letters that night her husband buried.
Kalen, the Druid of the village, commenced the celebration of the feast of the end of summer, Samhain. Kilian liked the little that party. Just a month ago that was nine years and thanks to the crops of the past few seasons have been very generous, remember lived celebrations with great enthusiasm.
In the hollow of the thatched roofs of small houses of land out the smoke from the fire that would burn all night inside. In the center of the village was consumed with a large fire which roasted lamb to celebrate a good harvest. Soon, all people would gather around the embers and eat the tender meat with beer and mead. It was the time when most enjoyed Kilian. It was fun to see your neighbors painted colors and wearing ugly masks carved in tree bark.
be placed before the offerings to their dead. Alanna, the mother finalized a sweet grain pasta and honey. Turned them over to Kilian excited to leave them on the window of the hut. That night was a lot of meaning for his people. Not only celebrating the end of a prosperous summer but, with the change of seasons, the world of the living and the dead were coming to join during the course of that night. For this reason, preparing sweets, to offer to their ancestors. They could also return evil spirits, were painted to scare them away and then, throw the bones of the feast in the fire of their homes. Kilian
"Come," said his mother. Has already started dinner at the stake. Together
rushed to take their place in the long makeshift table by the fire. At one end of it, the old man smiled Kalen while conversing with some of his neighbors. A burly man with his face blackened in stripes of various colors grabbed by surprise Kilian lifting into the air.
- Look, Mom! Shouted fun. Look how ugly you are pope!
- What am I ugly? Now see!
Braian quickly began to smear his son's face with ash and mud while he could not stop laughing and squirming trying to escape his embrace. The hours passed
inviting evening to share the table. Kilian gave Alanna a bowl with a handful of bones, the remains of dinner.
"It's getting late darling," she said tenderly. Take the container home and lie down: we will soon be us.
Compliant, Kilian ran towards the hut familiar with the urn in her hands. However, when approaching your home at last, some movement caught his eye. There was someone by the window.
He approached cautiously, hiding in the shadows, until you can clearly see the face of the intruder. Not a member of clan and, worst of all, she was eating the candy that her mother had prepared. Carefully picked up a stick that was leaning against the brick wall of his hut. Taking air stood resolutely with the stranger and used the stick as a makeshift spear.
- What are you doing here? He asked loudly.
The aforementioned jumped too far-fetched to be honest.
- Oh! By the gods! "Exclaimed the boy looked frightened face. Pity! Do not hurt me!
We do not want bums in the village. And even less if we steal the food.
- You mean the candy? You see, I was hungry and smelled so good ... Tell your mom cooks very well.
- Get away from them! Not for you, "said Kilian threatening with his spear.
"Okay, okay. But do not hurt me with your weapon. You are a very brave boy. How old are you? "Fifteen?
"I have nine years and I have you no fear.
I see. I will not move. My name is Lugh, you tell me your name?
"My name is Kilian.
- Nine years, eh, Kilian? Wow, you're grown, "said the tramp with a glow of satisfaction in his eyes that the boy was not able to distinguish. Your parents must be very proud of you. Yes .. sure.
spoke slowly, looking at the boy before him, ranging from head to toe with his view. It was an adult male but not old, older than his father. He was wearing leather pants and a leather strapped serve him warm. His posture was relaxed and his voice went from scared to softly Kilian implying a friendly attitude.
- Is elm that stick in you? Asked one man trying to change the subject. It is a very hard wood. That got
disconcerting when the boy, so he decided to take this opportunity.
"Look at this that I have here," he said taking a small object from the folds of his coat and tending to the boy.
"It's a flute," said Kilian disappointed to receive the object.
"Yes, a flute, but look good in it. It is carved from a piece of root Urz, the best wood for the flutes. Kilian
his fingers touched the drawings carved into the wood surface. Watermarks drew countless pictures that crisscrossed each other in the small area of \u200b\u200bthe instrument.
- Why not try? Lugh asked sitting on the floor. Play a little. Kilian
could play a tune on the flute so, tempted, tried to blow out of the nozzle. Boy shocked both the crystal clear sound that flowed from the instrument, separating from her lips, looked back at him with admiration.
"It's nice, right? It has taken me a long time to finish. Years now the man's voice sounded sad, away from there. Would be a gift for my daughter, but could never pass.
"It's very pretty. And I like how it sounds, "said Kilian stretching his arm to return the flute.
"Hmm, why do not we do something? "He hesitated a man without actually pick up the instrument. I give this flute if you let me take the candy, I'm really hungry. Kilian
thought for a moment. He liked the flute. Respect to sweets, I knew that tomorrow eat them at home after having fulfilled its ritual function. Her mother loved music, she had taught him to play the flute. It may not be angry with him for change. If his mother accepted his father would not have to know.
"Okay. But go away and I do not want to see you hanging around here, I told you that in our village are not welcome the homeless.
"Thanks kid. May the gods bless you, you and your family. The
which took what was left in the bowl of candy and quickly slipped into the shadows of the night. When his mother came to the hut, leaving her husband with the rest of the men who put out the flames of the feast, he found the empty bowl of candy with your child awake, waiting.
- Why do not you slept? He asked as he left his coat of fur on deer antlers. Do you know what happened to the candy in the window?
Kilian drew breath to try to sound convincing explanation.
"I found a man eating them. He said he was called Lugh. He offered me the flute in exchange for sweets and I accepted. Mom is a very nice flute, look at her, pleading with his voice as he showed the instrument his mother.
Alanna took the piece of wood carved and with trembling fingers crossed the drawings on its surface as soon as his son did. Easily recognized engraved rune design.
- Lugh ...? Whispered feeling hovering in his eyes tears full of old memories.
Kilian, afraid to see her mother about to mourn, hugged her tightly and tried to apologize.
"Mama do not get angry. I would not misbehave. You can make more candy, I'll help you.
"No, my life, you have not behaved badly-treated to calm his son, returning the hug. This year is no need for more sweets were for him.
In the hollow of the thatched roofs of small houses of land out the smoke from the fire that would burn all night inside. In the center of the village was consumed with a large fire which roasted lamb to celebrate a good harvest. Soon, all people would gather around the embers and eat the tender meat with beer and mead. It was the time when most enjoyed Kilian. It was fun to see your neighbors painted colors and wearing ugly masks carved in tree bark.
be placed before the offerings to their dead. Alanna, the mother finalized a sweet grain pasta and honey. Turned them over to Kilian excited to leave them on the window of the hut. That night was a lot of meaning for his people. Not only celebrating the end of a prosperous summer but, with the change of seasons, the world of the living and the dead were coming to join during the course of that night. For this reason, preparing sweets, to offer to their ancestors. They could also return evil spirits, were painted to scare them away and then, throw the bones of the feast in the fire of their homes. Kilian
"Come," said his mother. Has already started dinner at the stake. Together
rushed to take their place in the long makeshift table by the fire. At one end of it, the old man smiled Kalen while conversing with some of his neighbors. A burly man with his face blackened in stripes of various colors grabbed by surprise Kilian lifting into the air.
- Look, Mom! Shouted fun. Look how ugly you are pope!
- What am I ugly? Now see!
Braian quickly began to smear his son's face with ash and mud while he could not stop laughing and squirming trying to escape his embrace. The hours passed
inviting evening to share the table. Kilian gave Alanna a bowl with a handful of bones, the remains of dinner.
"It's getting late darling," she said tenderly. Take the container home and lie down: we will soon be us.
Compliant, Kilian ran towards the hut familiar with the urn in her hands. However, when approaching your home at last, some movement caught his eye. There was someone by the window.
He approached cautiously, hiding in the shadows, until you can clearly see the face of the intruder. Not a member of clan and, worst of all, she was eating the candy that her mother had prepared. Carefully picked up a stick that was leaning against the brick wall of his hut. Taking air stood resolutely with the stranger and used the stick as a makeshift spear.
- What are you doing here? He asked loudly.
The aforementioned jumped too far-fetched to be honest.
- Oh! By the gods! "Exclaimed the boy looked frightened face. Pity! Do not hurt me!
We do not want bums in the village. And even less if we steal the food.
- You mean the candy? You see, I was hungry and smelled so good ... Tell your mom cooks very well.
- Get away from them! Not for you, "said Kilian threatening with his spear.
"Okay, okay. But do not hurt me with your weapon. You are a very brave boy. How old are you? "Fifteen?
"I have nine years and I have you no fear.
I see. I will not move. My name is Lugh, you tell me your name?
"My name is Kilian.
- Nine years, eh, Kilian? Wow, you're grown, "said the tramp with a glow of satisfaction in his eyes that the boy was not able to distinguish. Your parents must be very proud of you. Yes .. sure.
spoke slowly, looking at the boy before him, ranging from head to toe with his view. It was an adult male but not old, older than his father. He was wearing leather pants and a leather strapped serve him warm. His posture was relaxed and his voice went from scared to softly Kilian implying a friendly attitude.
- Is elm that stick in you? Asked one man trying to change the subject. It is a very hard wood. That got
disconcerting when the boy, so he decided to take this opportunity.
"Look at this that I have here," he said taking a small object from the folds of his coat and tending to the boy.
"It's a flute," said Kilian disappointed to receive the object.
"Yes, a flute, but look good in it. It is carved from a piece of root Urz, the best wood for the flutes. Kilian
his fingers touched the drawings carved into the wood surface. Watermarks drew countless pictures that crisscrossed each other in the small area of \u200b\u200bthe instrument.
- Why not try? Lugh asked sitting on the floor. Play a little. Kilian
could play a tune on the flute so, tempted, tried to blow out of the nozzle. Boy shocked both the crystal clear sound that flowed from the instrument, separating from her lips, looked back at him with admiration.
"It's nice, right? It has taken me a long time to finish. Years now the man's voice sounded sad, away from there. Would be a gift for my daughter, but could never pass.
"It's very pretty. And I like how it sounds, "said Kilian stretching his arm to return the flute.
"Hmm, why do not we do something? "He hesitated a man without actually pick up the instrument. I give this flute if you let me take the candy, I'm really hungry. Kilian
thought for a moment. He liked the flute. Respect to sweets, I knew that tomorrow eat them at home after having fulfilled its ritual function. Her mother loved music, she had taught him to play the flute. It may not be angry with him for change. If his mother accepted his father would not have to know.
"Okay. But go away and I do not want to see you hanging around here, I told you that in our village are not welcome the homeless.
"Thanks kid. May the gods bless you, you and your family. The
which took what was left in the bowl of candy and quickly slipped into the shadows of the night. When his mother came to the hut, leaving her husband with the rest of the men who put out the flames of the feast, he found the empty bowl of candy with your child awake, waiting.
- Why do not you slept? He asked as he left his coat of fur on deer antlers. Do you know what happened to the candy in the window?
Kilian drew breath to try to sound convincing explanation.
"I found a man eating them. He said he was called Lugh. He offered me the flute in exchange for sweets and I accepted. Mom is a very nice flute, look at her, pleading with his voice as he showed the instrument his mother.
Alanna took the piece of wood carved and with trembling fingers crossed the drawings on its surface as soon as his son did. Easily recognized engraved rune design.
- Lugh ...? Whispered feeling hovering in his eyes tears full of old memories.
Kilian, afraid to see her mother about to mourn, hugged her tightly and tried to apologize.
"Mama do not get angry. I would not misbehave. You can make more candy, I'll help you.
"No, my life, you have not behaved badly-treated to calm his son, returning the hug. This year is no need for more sweets were for him.
POETRY
Enlightenment of special laveletavarada
To you, devote my life
whole
wasting all my heart you a lifetime I was your friend!
But now that everything is pain
tired maybe! of my waking
you leave to look for new flowers
You'll find a new heaven
where
letting me relive better times to me with despair. Where does
so dreamed that love?
what about the years of easy life? ...
what rootless soul has left me?
I hope that luck is winged
and you find that chimera
that seems to you, so desired
Get the new Spring year
if
let you enjoy and forget your old partner.
To you, love always swore
she dedicated her whole life you why you forgot
respect it.
To you, devote my life
whole
wasting all my heart you a lifetime I was your friend!
But now that everything is pain
tired maybe! of my waking
you leave to look for new flowers
You'll find a new heaven
where
letting me relive better times to me with despair. Where does
so dreamed that love?
what about the years of easy life? ...
what rootless soul has left me?
I hope that luck is winged
and you find that chimera
that seems to you, so desired
Get the new Spring year
if
let you enjoy and forget your old partner.
To you, love always swore
she dedicated her whole life you why you forgot
respect it.
What if I die tomorrow ...? Louise, My thoughts everyday
What if I die tomorrow ...?
many kisses ...
lost many looks crooked in the retinas remain stuck. Hugs
that beat asleep and never see the dawn.
many urgent talks, left without words.
What if I die tomorrow?
There will be a substantial change, vital, which I will be most affected.
pending without express gratitude and so thankful, and paid ...
Projects will be zero and the world a little quieter
many nights without moon or unwilling to look at it.
many days without sun in the shadows of my fears deployed.
not stop loving and learning, thinking, or what subject you're going "over", because life
What if I die tomorrow ...?
many kisses ...
lost many looks crooked in the retinas remain stuck. Hugs
that beat asleep and never see the dawn.
many urgent talks, left without words.
What if I die tomorrow?
There will be a substantial change, vital, which I will be most affected.
pending without express gratitude and so thankful, and paid ...
Projects will be zero and the world a little quieter
many nights without moon or unwilling to look at it.
many days without sun in the shadows of my fears deployed.
not stop loving and learning, thinking, or what subject you're going "over", because life
earth who can buy it?
And if anything missing, do not want tears or flowers, which are worth very expensive and just wilted and withered.
Be in peace my friends and those who saved me,
And if anything missing, do not want tears or flowers, which are worth very expensive and just wilted and withered.
Be in peace my friends and those who saved me,
the heart over the years forgive, forgive and love. I
beautiful songs, heartfelt and sung ...
beautiful songs, heartfelt and sung ...
and petitions to the Father for this small, poor, wild goat, love.
But the sun sets and sun rises tomorrow and we can not stop dancing the notes recorded on the score of our soul, history written in blood, full of studs and daisies drawn,
But the sun sets and sun rises tomorrow and we can not stop dancing the notes recorded on the score of our soul, history written in blood, full of studs and daisies drawn,
painted tears and laughter fall, with tenderness full and unhealed wounds.
lost many times, how many hours evaded,
lost many times, how many hours evaded,
many responsibilities not assumed, nor love, nor accepted ...
and downs with friends and singing silly words: "I do not like this, I do not feel like "
and downs with friends and singing silly words: "I do not like this, I do not feel like "
" and leave me alone, now you'll do it tomorrow "
" I do not pass this. I will not die tomorrow "
But ... what if I miss the life of neglected opportunities?
Vivamos aware and happy of what lies ahead for the day, because if life is two days ...
What if I die tomorrow?
" I do not pass this. I will not die tomorrow "
But ... what if I miss the life of neglected opportunities?
Vivamos aware and happy of what lies ahead for the day, because if life is two days ...
What if I die tomorrow?
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