Carlos Mijares Poyer (Venezuela)

 
Carlos Mijares Poyer (Venezuela)
 
International author, translator, journalist and marketer.
He has published in numerous on line literary websites in the United States, Venezuela, Mexico, Australia, Nigeria, Argentina, UK, He is an English major from Guilford College in the U.S and pine crest school also a marketer from Isum marketing college in Venezuela Main contributor in different journalistic genre in the ultimas noticias daily newspaper in its cultural supplement in Venezuela.
 
 
Footprints of Rain
 
A voice from beyond in hues
incubus a visitor from beyond manifested
makes ripples in the room…
the echo from the first well-
the waters listen in your breath
 
Anonymous
the aroma meanders and rises
blind sunset like a clock torn to pieces
from a heart with broken ribs
a tremor signals flowers
from the garden of drowning
in the trimestral night and Moon
brawny sigh and petals swim
erased, all the tombs
and brows of ferns
the transpiration construes
like the flame ignites
and promises desires,
Buoyant
 
 
THE SAD HOURS OF SILENCE
 
At another hour and in silence
the giraffes experts
in the solitude of heights
and butterflies draw
dreams of rain pinned
like curtains of needles
 
only air knows breeze
the naked back
and chicken-pox of thighs
the lost gaze
 
Thank you to that Queen
showing itself in street corners
sad apparition
the pupil asleep
 
perhaps paper
a wrinkle of the sky
and noose on the neck
of the black poet
 
When the last kite
erupted in Suns
like the submerged medal
of ancient seas
and lost civilization
 
There was no population
which could breathe in that desire
like the handkerchief
did not wither
the erasure of the smile
in the forest of cities
the last before last drop
slides in the corneas
of mutants.
 
 
SPACE RUNNERS
 
Death signifies,
inert life.
To espy roads,
medals of fortune.
Belly-button of the sea veils the city
and lovers exchange
antique tongues and gaze
electric.
The last ship set sail
a man swimming chasing it
guided by star-fish
and mechanical octopi
clanging the evening.
The audience dictated
to not give anymore wings to the angels
and to suppress the news
of the jailed birds.
As such
they unloaded a key-less piano
on its back
to compose one last melody:
(Concerto for the Obscure Halls for four hands),
Space closed its jaw,
and the rain fell.
 
 

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