June 2019 – Luis S. González-Acevedo

The Poetic Story Of Princess Taína & Prince Connell’s Wild Atlantic Love

June 19, 2019July 19, 2019by Luis Samuel GonzálezLeave a Comment

I find myself in Ireland. So, I decided to share this post… ~Luis S. González-Acevedo

Luis S. González-Acevedo

innisfree

The Poetic Story Of Princess Taína

&

Prince Connell’s Wild Atlantic Love

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

Note: After the poem, you’ll find an Explanation of Terms. The explanations will enhance your understanding of The Poetic Story Of Princess Taína & Prince Connell’s Wild Atlantic Love. I recommend you read the Explanation of Terms first.

Cross the Emerald Isle once more,
my Corracloona Prince and Leitrim Lord.
Easterlies will sail you –Connell– to her river’s ford.
But first, wage your loving war against the ocean’s roars,
that you may proudly disembark upon her island’s shores.
Thrust through the winding paths of Rich Port’s forest
as Taína’s prickling rains drown your Irish soul in peaceful rest
and guide you toward the island’s tropic center.
There, you’ll be compelled to render
your heart by love distressed.

Near Written Rock, Princess Taína splashes waters round her body by the river’s…

View original post 633 more words

Nature | Naturaleza, Poetry|Poesía: Islands|Islas

Poem… gorumna island, ireland

June 19, 2019by Luis S. González-AcevedoLeave a Comment

gorumnaisland

gorumna island, ireland

–june 18, 2019–
gorumna island, county galway, ireland

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

on gorumna island, i spent my days
greeting the tides
with my eyes in a daze.

on gorumna island, i spent my days
bidding the same tides farewell
hours after their swell.

on gorumna island, i spent my days
entranced by the spell
as the setting sun sang, “my boy, all is well.”

–gorumna island, ireland will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–

Poema… La Llorona | poema en tres actos

June 16, 2019October 10, 2019by Luis S. González-AcevedoLeave a Comment

La Llorona | poema en tres actos

–4 de junio de 2019–
reykjavík, islandia

por Luis S. González-Acevedo

i. encuentro | cerca del árbol…

Llorona…
oscuridad y neblina vierten tus cascadas
el árbol te protege de la nieve con sus sombras
el viento de tristeza corta con su dolor helado
pero me seduce consolarlas:
a ti y la hierba que contigo llora,
al orquestar la angustia de un flamenco gitano.

ii. amor | en mi alma…

Llorona…
los destellos de tus ojos alimentan la aurora boreal.
dientes de azúcar, labios de caña,
lengua del cañaveral,
besos de melao…
cuando mi vida sea del pasao,
ojalá seas la flor que nace ante mi lápida.

iii. rapto | hacia el río…

Llorona…
tus llantos son el fruto de mi guayabal.
llévame, ahógame en guarapo de caña;
y si no me llevas, te sigo a lo profundo,
–enfrentando cualquier mal–
para que las aguas de tu rebozo
nos cubran con el llanto de tus ojos,
con la corriente de su río.

no llores por quien amaste, Llorona.
sonríe por quien te ama y no traiciona.

–La Llorona | poema en tres actos será publicado en un libro de poemas e historias en julio 2020–

Cuentos | Stories

Story… The Gift

June 16, 2019June 16, 2019by Luis Samuel GonzálezLeave a Comment

Today is Father’s Day. Here’s a short story… -Luis S. González-Acevedo

Luis S. González-Acevedo

In the United States, Father’s Day is on the third Sunday of June and Halloween is on October 31st. Here is a story for both holidays…

En los Estados Unidos, el Día de los Padres se celebra el tercer domingo de junio y Halloween en octubre 31. Aquí tienen una historia para los dos días feriados…

The Gift

–april 11, 2018–

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

June 2150, 7:30 a.m. | Eduardo was the first one up. Mother had assigned him to yard duty for the celebration, and he wanted to make Father happy. The abundant sunshine pouring through his bedroom window was a gift for those special “someones” throughout the land. Salvador –Eduardo’s father– was one of those special someones.

Father’s Day would be like no other for Salvador. Mother outdid herself –yes, she did! As Eduardo considered his mother’s commitment to his father’s happiness, he hoped to find someone…

View original post 893 more words

Poem… night king, lord of the white walkers

June 14, 2019June 14, 2019by Luis S. González-AcevedoLeave a Comment

night king, lord of the white walkers

–june 5, 2019–
reykjavík, iceland

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

“winter is coming,”
night’s snowflakes cry.
the wicked season’s ice is roaring
as the fires die
and charcoal chills spill toward our wall.
warning: the frozen barrier will soon fall.

HBO revealed you
as we fed you and scurried to your rescue.
such unpardonable sins!
so true!
such nonsense…

making us believe you died…
you didn’t? i know!
you’re waiting for emotions to subside
but when kindness and our brains grow cold,
this and more will show
that you escaped the screen & stream,
making your way into reality.
now, you lie in wait –you fiend,
sustained by our banality.

such fun… the violence,
glorified quirks & kills,
the dulling of good sense,
–of the beautiful, of course–
not the ugly and the currency wasters.

i’m ashamed to admit that you were fun,
unlike watching the melting of glaciers.
as we approach life without the sun,
i thank you, and i’m grateful.

what? what did you say, again?
is winter still coming?
does it hope that i consent?
but it regardless shall arrive…

when this final season comes,
and with great relief the moon sighs,
when all light from humanity runs:

i beg you, Bran Stark, just say goodbye…
forget me on that night,
erase all memory of me, just let it die.

–night king, lord of the white walkers will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–

Month: June 2019

The Poetic Story Of Princess Taína & Prince Connell’s Wild Atlantic Love

The Poetic Story Of Princess Taína

&

Prince Connell’s Wild Atlantic Love

Poem… gorumna island, ireland

gorumna island, ireland

on gorumna island, i spent my days
greeting the tides
with my eyes in a daze.

on gorumna island, i spent my days
bidding the same tides farewell
hours after their swell.

on gorumna island, i spent my days
entranced by the spell
as the setting sun sang, “my boy, all is well.”

Poema… La Llorona | poema en tres actos

La Llorona | poema en tres actos

i. encuentro | cerca del árbol…

Llorona…
oscuridad y neblina vierten tus cascadas
el árbol te protege de la nieve con sus sombras
el viento de tristeza corta con su dolor helado
pero me seduce consolarlas:
a ti y la hierba que contigo llora,
al orquestar la angustia de un flamenco gitano.

ii. amor | en mi alma…

Llorona…
los destellos de tus ojos alimentan la aurora boreal.
dientes de azúcar, labios de caña,
lengua del cañaveral,
besos de melao…
cuando mi vida sea del pasao,
ojalá seas la flor que nace ante mi lápida.

iii. rapto | hacia el río…

Llorona…
tus llantos son el fruto de mi guayabal.
llévame, ahógame en guarapo de caña;
y si no me llevas, te sigo a lo profundo,
–enfrentando cualquier mal–
para que las aguas de tu rebozo
nos cubran con el llanto de tus ojos,
con la corriente de su río.

no llores por quien amaste, Llorona.
sonríe por quien te ama y no traiciona.

Story… The Gift

In the United States, Father’s Day is on the third Sunday of June and Halloween is on October 31st. Here is a story for both holidays…

En los Estados Unidos, el Día de los Padres se celebra el tercer domingo de junio y Halloween en octubre 31. Aquí tienen una historia para los dos días feriados…

The Gift

Father’s Day would be like no other for Salvador. Mother outdid herself –yes, she did! As Eduardo considered his mother’s commitment to his father’s happiness, he hoped to find someone…

Poem… night king, lord of the white walkers

night king, lord of the white walkers

“winter is coming,”
night’s snowflakes cry.
the wicked season’s ice is roaring
as the fires die
and charcoal chills spill toward our wall.
warning: the frozen barrier will soon fall.

HBO revealed you
as we fed you and scurried to your rescue.
such unpardonable sins!
so true!
such nonsense…

making us believe you died…
you didn’t? i know!
you’re waiting for emotions to subside
but when kindness and our brains grow cold,
this and more will show
that you escaped the screen & stream,
making your way into reality.
now, you lie in wait –you fiend,
sustained by our banality.

such fun… the violence,
glorified quirks & kills,
the dulling of good sense,
–of the beautiful, of course–
not the ugly and the currency wasters.

i’m ashamed to admit that you were fun,
unlike watching the melting of glaciers.
as we approach life without the sun,
i thank you, and i’m grateful.

what? what did you say, again?
is winter still coming?
does it hope that i consent?
but it regardless shall arrive…

when this final season comes,
and with great relief the moon sighs,
when all light from humanity runs:

i beg you, Bran Stark, just say goodbye…
forget me on that night,
erase all memory of me, just let it die.

Archive

	Luis Samuel González on Poem… dromahair, county…
	Luis Samuel González on Poem… dromahair, county…
	Garreth Byrne on Poem… dromahair, county…

The Poetic Story Of Princess Taína

&

Prince Connell’s Wild Atlantic Love

gorumna island, ireland

on gorumna island, i spent my days greeting the tides with my eyes in a daze.

on gorumna island, i spent my days bidding the same tides farewell hours after their swell.

on gorumna island, i spent my days entranced by the spell as the setting sun sang, “my boy, all is well.”

La Llorona | poema en tres actos

i. encuentro | cerca del árbol…

Llorona… oscuridad y neblina vierten tus cascadas el árbol te protege de la nieve con sus sombras el viento de tristeza corta con su dolor helado pero me seduce consolarlas: a ti y la hierba que contigo llora, al orquestar la angustia de un flamenco gitano.

ii. amor | en mi alma…

Llorona… los destellos de tus ojos alimentan la aurora boreal. dientes de azúcar, labios de caña, lengua del cañaveral, besos de melao… cuando mi vida sea del pasao, ojalá seas la flor que nace ante mi lápida.

iii. rapto | hacia el río…

Llorona… tus llantos son el fruto de mi guayabal. llévame, ahógame en guarapo de caña; y si no me llevas, te sigo a lo profundo, –enfrentando cualquier mal– para que las aguas de tu rebozo nos cubran con el llanto de tus ojos, con la corriente de su río.

no llores por quien amaste, Llorona. sonríe por quien te ama y no traiciona.

In the United States, Father’s Day is on the third Sunday of June and Halloween is on October 31st. Here is a story for both holidays…

En los Estados Unidos, el Día de los Padres se celebra el tercer domingo de junio y Halloween en octubre 31. Aquí tienen una historia para los dos días feriados…

The Gift

Father’s Day would be like no other for Salvador. Mother outdid herself –yes, she did! As Eduardo considered his mother’s commitment to his father’s happiness, he hoped to find someone…

night king, lord of the white walkers

“winter is coming,” night’s snowflakes cry. the wicked season’s ice is roaring as the fires die and charcoal chills spill toward our wall. warning: the frozen barrier will soon fall.

HBO revealed you as we fed you and scurried to your rescue. such unpardonable sins! so true! such nonsense…

making us believe you died… you didn’t? i know! you’re waiting for emotions to subside but when kindness and our brains grow cold, this and more will show that you escaped the screen & stream, making your way into reality. now, you lie in wait –you fiend, sustained by our banality.

such fun… the violence, glorified quirks & kills, the dulling of good sense, –of the beautiful, of course– not the ugly and the currency wasters.

i’m ashamed to admit that you were fun, unlike watching the melting of glaciers. as we approach life without the sun, i thank you, and i’m grateful.

what? what did you say, again? is winter still coming? does it hope that i consent? but it regardless shall arrive…

when this final season comes, and with great relief the moon sighs, when all light from humanity runs:

i beg you, Bran Stark, just say goodbye… forget me on that night, erase all memory of me, just let it die.

Archive

on gorumna island, i spent my days
greeting the tides
with my eyes in a daze.

on gorumna island, i spent my days
bidding the same tides farewell
hours after their swell.

on gorumna island, i spent my days
entranced by the spell
as the setting sun sang, “my boy, all is well.”

Llorona…
oscuridad y neblina vierten tus cascadas
el árbol te protege de la nieve con sus sombras
el viento de tristeza corta con su dolor helado
pero me seduce consolarlas:
a ti y la hierba que contigo llora,
al orquestar la angustia de un flamenco gitano.

Llorona…
los destellos de tus ojos alimentan la aurora boreal.
dientes de azúcar, labios de caña,
lengua del cañaveral,
besos de melao…
cuando mi vida sea del pasao,
ojalá seas la flor que nace ante mi lápida.

Llorona…
tus llantos son el fruto de mi guayabal.
llévame, ahógame en guarapo de caña;
y si no me llevas, te sigo a lo profundo,
–enfrentando cualquier mal–
para que las aguas de tu rebozo
nos cubran con el llanto de tus ojos,
con la corriente de su río.

no llores por quien amaste, Llorona.
sonríe por quien te ama y no traiciona.

“winter is coming,”
night’s snowflakes cry.
the wicked season’s ice is roaring
as the fires die
and charcoal chills spill toward our wall.
warning: the frozen barrier will soon fall.

HBO revealed you
as we fed you and scurried to your rescue.
such unpardonable sins!
so true!
such nonsense…

making us believe you died…
you didn’t? i know!
you’re waiting for emotions to subside
but when kindness and our brains grow cold,
this and more will show
that you escaped the screen & stream,
making your way into reality.
now, you lie in wait –you fiend,
sustained by our banality.

such fun… the violence,
glorified quirks & kills,
the dulling of good sense,
–of the beautiful, of course–
not the ugly and the currency wasters.

i’m ashamed to admit that you were fun,
unlike watching the melting of glaciers.
as we approach life without the sun,
i thank you, and i’m grateful.

what? what did you say, again?
is winter still coming?
does it hope that i consent?
but it regardless shall arrive…

when this final season comes,
and with great relief the moon sighs,
when all light from humanity runs:

i beg you, Bran Stark, just say goodbye…
forget me on that night,
erase all memory of me, just let it die.