Pablo Alfonso

Pablo Alfonso Poems

Little angels, looking off into nowhere.
Searching for answers they walk quiet to
 inclination of empty spaces...
Nobody cares about to them.
...

Be poor materially it doesn't importune.

For such a thing I do not contend at my feat,
...

Will I be forever slave of your charm?
Why won't you release me of this torment?
This torment of which I'm prisioner.
I'm a wanderer in my own world.
...

Where are you going, tyrant, with your shadow?
With your delusions of grandeur. Withered mind.
With your painful life. Without glory. Maligned.
That tortured and poor voice that you disallow.
...

It comes from grape harvest to the table
This rich and good wine, pleasant sip fruity
It brings from the vine its freshness its beauty.
With delight, rich wine, brings joy and be able
...

I'd like to have your seal on my forehead.
Your faithful and great love. As epigraphy.
Your faithful and holy love. Christography.
To have forever this love. Endless. Godhead.
...

Oh splendid Master that bring movement!
Worker bee. Support of the History.
Emblem, martyr and victory!
Skillful in the anvil and forge greatness.
...

Long time of daily routine and suffering
step into my bedroom. But you oh! Shakespeare,
my good, faithful friend. Sweetens my rough nightmare.
My life acquires meaning. Magic beauty brings.
...

He who dwells in the shelter of God
will abide in the shadows of love.
Upon him no harm will not come
and we live happily forever
...

The Best Poem Of Pablo Alfonso

Little Angels

Little angels, looking off into nowhere.
Searching for answers they walk quiet to
 inclination of empty spaces...
Nobody cares about to them.
The indifference took hold of the streets
and on cold nights, like a  wretched  ghost 
the wind blows hard
and the freeze take early control.
All that remain is a cold and shivering being.
The equality and justice
they are two lunatics roaming...
'Reach out' prohibited words in this world
Don't hang about! - the ignorance were jeering the charity.
Everybody seems to be staring in one direction
like Walking Dead and meanwhile...
children remain at the margins of social transformation.
The children wearing the funny hats,  
juggling just for to dodge hunger and poverty.
If they don't sell oranges, there's no bread.
If they don't sell pies, there's no bread.
That is the reality...
Shining shoes and toting bags
seek to bring relief for the absence of parents.
I feel the cold pavement on their bare feet.
I feel their tremulous hands in my hands.

And all customary acts of mercy... 
...are expressly forbidden for the executioner:
An invisible enemy that plays with our minds.

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