Copyright @ 2014 by Luis Velez All rights reserved.
To Loveliness, whom I married.
A surprise Depth saved it for you  the box of secrets all the sacred mysteries the vague complexities of a longing mind dutiful collection the treasures of my youth the laughter and cool stories the values and truth saved it all for you I mean, this took years erratic and imprecise didn't matter spared by those first kisses the hands that held each other communion of flesh and soul the waves of our sea One day, you and I suddenly forever happy
To an old friend gone today I saw you twelve years ago blond hair on a sunny afternoon attending a class reunion you were close to forty yet I could not remember you, not like that I remember you dark hair on a sunny afternoon in the middle of French lessons you were close to seventeen this, I could remember so clearly That you were sweet and smart, playful, generous and right flashing your smile you did reach out and I kept the letters our conversations, how they found me interesting pair of scrutinizing eyes after all these years I could remember
Farewell then, dear friend Will treasure the fond memories thank you for your friendship the inspiration the good example if ghosts are but memories Will you please haunt me now and then, from time to time, again after all these years? You were braver then braver So may your lamp rekindle brighter now beyond the wall mysterious And I hope to see you once again someday, somewhere somehow.
ephemeral Moonlight wanes for secret memories a silent statement a long journey from the distant mirror, the silver disk above. Pretense of brightness, every fortnight odd reflection playing the familiar game oblivious to the howls, to the sighs unable to let go.
Mistakes Small defeats here and there causing good to go away and your smile Can loudly hear your thoughts from the other room more apologies makes me one less in your eyes Never Bubbles ~ do I surround you now my soul lost in the flickers Ah, candlelight you trying to forget me for a second Ages later you have forgotten sweetly forgiven me All is restored and warm again God Bless you, Always
A Safe world And thus we bid you welcome to our home, Finzi-Continis of the new Century. Oh, we play jeu de paume all day behind our walled gardens Deuce! Love! Set! you can hear the birds, the automobiles Sense a world out there so vulnerable Those we think we care not about or would prefer not to know about ever, really. Best leave us alone, spending our evenings arguing politics in candlelight intense debates, places unseen "Not much else there could have been done, was there?"
Come back, carefree! Happy-go-lucky Deuce! Love! For every once in a while, I wake up,  for a moment back in the Garden, not alone "A soap bubble!" "There! ~ another!" Amid childish laughter we watch them float away, their colors winking back. And we play merrily, a blanket of sunshine ~ and there's another bubble.
State of Happiness You know how you must feel to write this Begone Melancholy, Nostalgia, Chagrin! The sun is smiling We are thankful Life acquiesces with many more graces Finally ~ just right. Spring is the sound of the singing birds to the summer of endless loving Au revoir to the fogs that cloud the hearts, Farewell to the mists where souls are lost Come and stay here, sun! Come to stay!
Never met Clarice Beaumaris, carnival of soft pastel tones of damp evenings of tramway cars with small orange lights distracted bystanders the empty bridges the silent horizons pale lace a parasol, light sepia dreams of a particular Monet, forgotten, never seen, before the rains came. Many years later, I found her so tenuous, so subtle in what little was left yet there it was, her soul all new shades of melancholy.
Now I just swim, every now and then in that blue ocean of her blueness, the Sea of Oblivion. In the glimpse of bright reflections of sunshine on the water, of salted afternoons in a country without rain. __ A small poem inspired by the life and work of Clarice Beckett (1887 – 1935).
Oh Freedom To love you so intensely Such a strange love demands no understanding To think of you and speak of you a state of mind fundamental for the living Glory to those who died seeking you a State of my own mind, our own mind Queen of ideals oh precious Freedom, Love for you so pure it heals the soul If I can dream and navigate the mighty river of Will
in this breezy peace, I live Come and sing to me  of the countless sacrifices for your sake supreme make us see how it was you came to be so beautiful, above the Sun and the Moon to the simple man who understands nothing yet accepts their kiss invisible on his rugged cheek, and with a deep breath draws inside a taste of the light Oh Freedom! ... Que de crimes on comet en ton nom
Saint George Anglophilia An early passion one cannot say when or why perhaps his father's admiration or was it his mother's apprehension for them Leaves of sweet ruby tea hot ginger pasties glory of candle skinned  ladies the warm eyes and cold hearts what lovely cats you have Avon flows, its quiet cenote waters surrounding the poetical urns Cheery children noses against windows those of shopkeepers that smothered Napoleon Yes, Avon flows the timely midnight trains to a myriad country stations
all the many noble selfish ideals Joy of bright roses in a small garden below where the Keats still play Adam and Eve and hear the City's pride its mechanical soul  sing its hollow lonely tune again Oh, where did all the angels go?