Monday, June 25, 2012


Truly this place is filled with enchantments.
Fairies, talking animals, insects, and elves.
These will amaze the women, men, girls, and boys.
It’s beyond imagination better than puppets and toys.

What else would you ask if you have magic in your hands?
You could have anything with a wave of your wand.
A talking cat on his boots and sharp sword,
And a mirror who knows everything by its words.

I could praise a tinker who dusts us and let us fly,
With a boy whose shadows’ stays away but he never cries.
Someday I will wish on a star to find my princess.
Fight the dragons in dungeons, destroy walls and fences.

I am scared but I don’t care if I will turn into a frog.
Leap on thousand lilies and stay on a quiet pond.
Talk with fishes and crocs, but with a little fun,
Because I know I’m sure someday my princess will come.

Oh! I will build an army and fight the evil queen.
Ride my stallion, wear my armor, and lead my men.
Conquer on the battlefield and widen my kingdom.
This will be my gift to my princess the time she’ll come.

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Simply amazing the way she talks
while she teaches us things in the book.
Simple thought we could use in our walk,
no one compares to her as we look.

She waves her rod to shine our mind
and sooner we will shine to the inside.
She casts her words to its most unkind
but to make sure we’ll not be left behind.

Dearest she is when we share our downs,
and shares her words to avoid the drown.
Dear like a mother she puts down her crown,
sits with us and laugh like a clown.

Truly I say she is simply the very best.
A friend, a mother, who gives her caress.
True to herself though at times like a beast,
but to mold us to stand above the rest.

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Everything is ready in my mind,
the ring, the flowers, the cards,
the maids and the bridal car.
All is set except for the bride.

Maybe I’m the only who’s too excited.
The calendar’s pages has been counted,
I am too busy for myself,
I who knows when to be wed.

I have to come back to my reality
that we will not be able to marry.
I’m not for her and she’s not for me.
My bride is just a fantasy.

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I’m getting older like what we supposed to.
I’m getting weaker and less we could do.
I am not afraid to die for we will all too.
My days are counted and we are nearly zero.

I’m getting rougher but it is only my skin.
I’m getting tougher but only deep within.
I have already accepted whatever may happen.
Only the end will bring me to the start again.

I’m getting richer of my friends and memories.
I’m getting more worthy of my legacies.
I will come to rest and resting means peace,
for I fulfilled all my purposes and duties.

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I am old now but I still do what I like,
play with my dolls and ride the bike.
I don’t mind the gentlemen and the boys,
but I still like the flowers and the toys.

So set aside the powder and the lipstick,
I still have my story books and fairy magic.
I still play with my lovely Ken and Barbie;
watch the Looney Tunes and Disney.

Yes, it’s fun when I bite my tiny fingernail
and swirl every tip of my wavy curly hair.
I still wish when the stars starts to shoot,
and enjoy the pouring rain on our roof.

So what if I still do the things I always like?
Who cares if they see me ride on my bike?
Who cares if I still play with my toys?
And… Who cares about the stupid boys?

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I love to die when it means resting.
To leave all things without thinking.
I love to die and forget every thing.
I love to die when I know I’m nothing.

I love to die so problems will fade away.
To rest my body and mind to gently decay.
I love to die and dying is really okay.
I love to die when I’m a loser anyway.

I love to die and leave all my friends.
To know who really cares until the end.
I love to die so my works will mend.
I love to die when my story will become a legend.
Rey C. Jimena

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...