Mente en blanco.

La poesía
abunda en todas partes,
excepto en la nieve. Por eso cuando
busco inspiración, mi mente se queda en blanco.

Por esa
blanca razón
sos mi inspiración,
mi color, mis suspiros
llenos de calidez y el vino
derramado sobre los versos
dispersos en las hojas de un
cuaderno de cuadrícula o
de aprendiz de musas
desprovistas de
distinción.

En la llaneza de una musa rodeada
de un ambiente blanco, tu figura
acalora la sensación de escribir.​

Fidel Guerra. Enero 10, 2026.​

 

Interesante forma la suya
agradable a las pupilas.
Saludos desde mi turbio lago.

 

Hola Alde,
I have spent many years of my life in Oregon, residing in the Willamette Valley, below the surrounding elevations and about an hour or so from the snowfields. It's truly amazing to be able to touch the snow- tall walls where a machine slices through it like a piece of cheese... right next to the area where you can park and stroll along a few trails. I don't visit this place frequently, but it's incredibly peaceful, with hardly any birds or sounds around—just the sound of your footsteps and the stillness of your thoughts...it's challenging to write in such an unusual environment. Especially for me since I only grasp the basics, which is why my poetry tends to be much mellower or gentle than what you typically find.


Saludos a ti hasta la Habana, desde Oregon, Springfield, the town of rhe Simpsons.

Fidel.