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domingo, 28 de agosto de 2011


  I am going to fly to Viena tomorrow. Viena is one of my favourite cities. When I was a child I used to dream of Austria. "I will travel to Viena one day" I said to myself. And I wrote to the Embassy to get some brochures from their beautiful country. I really wanted to go there. Tomorrow I will be there. Never stop dreaming, because all can be possible if you think so.

sábado, 27 de agosto de 2011


  When I see the statistics of my blog, I see my blog readers from Germany, France, USA, Uruguay, Mexico, Colombia... I wonder why someone somewhere in the world would want to read what I write every day. No idea but it´s nice to know you are there.Thank you all for opening the door of my house-blog and read my words. There are days when one feels less alone because of people like you.

miércoles, 24 de agosto de 2011


  I read that some parents have killed their babies these days. I never will know why those things can happen. There are no reasons to kill a baby. I feel sad and have only a question in my heart: why?

sábado, 20 de agosto de 2011

THE FLAME AND THE SHADOW (a poem by José Verón Gormaz)

   I hear the wind passing
 in the cold steppes of the night.

   Nobody knocks on my door.

 Without words,
 the hours have come to say goodbye.

   (From "The wind and the word")

jueves, 18 de agosto de 2011


   There will be fingers of smoke,
 light feet of moon,
 perfect hands of water,
 beefy hearts,
 looks of gull,
 honey and dreams,
 bodies of foam,
 smiles of quince …

    Let the man be done,
 let the cell grow.

    Let the world begin,
 let everything evolve.

  (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

martes, 16 de agosto de 2011


Silent weightlessness.
Sleeping suns
and a dark restlessness
in the looks.

(From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

lunes, 15 de agosto de 2011


   I want to sink with you,
May your pain hurts me
and perforate my pain,
Captain Nemo.

   May the same sadness
that kills your hope
accompanies me to die.

   May the same sea
that stings in your wounds
be mine also,
my Captain.

  (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

domingo, 14 de agosto de 2011


 One day there was a sea here.
And the sea was never more.
Eternally fixed,
the seconds
chiselled its fingerprints.
Fossilized pain
in every stone.
Instants without a time,
sea with nobody.
Thread of moon
cut in the tide.

Here there was a sea.

A stopped time
fossilizes souls,
freezes feelings,
remains, lasts.

Here there was a sea.

Rocks remember.

 (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

sábado, 13 de agosto de 2011


   It was raining last night. A long storm in the evening. The sky wanted to cry. My heart wanted to cry as well. But today all is calm here. We, survivors, are sleeping in peace. Life is perfect again. Good day for all of you.

jueves, 11 de agosto de 2011


   Oceans of kisses, hands of algae
 that one day I stroked
 before I was,
 without memory of you,
 far from Ítaca.
And today I have returned to look at myself
 in your silence,
 in the sweet quietude of your look.
   And you do not recognize me, do not hold me.
 You weave, unravel, days of silence
 Shrouds of courage and empty grey
 While the vultures overfly your soul.

 (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

miércoles, 10 de agosto de 2011


On my heart,
parables written by the sea.
The air carries them away.
Among the green pines
the air from the sea blows,
opens paths
to the ground by its salty lips.
Separate. The sea brings words.
The sea knows the stela of the rivers
amd the smoke mouth of the factories.
The sea knows the dream of the lizard
and the way of lights of the stars.
The sea knows everything.
Be quiet.
This afternoon it writes it in your memory.

   (From "Perhaps the light")

martes, 9 de agosto de 2011


   Tell me who I am.
Invent a life for me.
Weave my time,
spin my fantasy.
Let me be your dream...
Give me dark seconds
of harmony.
Weave moments.
Draw me in your life.

 (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

lunes, 8 de agosto de 2011


   I decipher this silence.
I codify words,
and the encrypted dragon
chases a heart
to read it.

    Linked eyes,
 cadence of the souls,
 sequence of the pain.
 A key is absent!
 Your labyrinth
             is closed
                       behind me.
    (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

sábado, 6 de agosto de 2011


Distant it is this peace that  lights the evening
among the still waters of the sleepy lake.

The light of the auguries
              floods the plains.

Birth of a vague desire
             to be like the grass in the meadows,
humble and deep-rooted
                to the dream of the land.

What a slow flow of time away!

On the banks of the pond the road stops
 To hear how they sing the wind and a goldfinch.

(From "The wind and the word")

José Verón Gormaz is an Aragonese poet and photographer, born in Calatayud, Zaragoza. "The wind and the word" is one of his best books of poetry.

jueves, 4 de agosto de 2011

Falling in love... again

   Today one of my friends is going to meet his love... again. He loves her. He hopes she loves him... again.
The life isn´t a fairy tale, but who knows? If it was possible to put some glue of happines and put together two hearts who have loved so much each other... If it was possible... Hope it is.
  Good luck, big boy.

martes, 2 de agosto de 2011

For my tired heart

   Dream, my heart.
Dream of grey clouds of storm,
of happy hours of childhood.
Dream of sweet hope of kisses.
Dream of love today.