A rain of dreams on the night landscape 

A childhood illusion that yearns to celebrate

the joy of new dawns... 


The warm gesture of friendship

Awakening from a dream that seeks

the miracle in where love is reborn

© Noris Roberts

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How does It feel?

How does it feel

when a dagger hovers over life,

when anarchy oppresses with brutality,

when dreams dissolve

and let no traces to contemplate?


How does it feel

when everything is swarmed by violence,

insensitivity; clear and humiliating absence of piety?


We are all instruments for an occasion;

others are escorted only by ambition


Oblivious to the world,


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My feelings scream wildly,

caused by the turbulent scars that lacerate me


Once again guns… beheaded days succumb the people

into a nocturnal shade of impotence;

piling up the path of violence,

distress, conflict, grief


Liberty screams mutilated… for…

for the men that do not want peace,

for the unconsciousness of those that kill ruthlessly,

for the wickedness of...

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I seek

After hearing the voice of despotism,

the cries of the hungry looking in the trash for bread,

the bitter language of solitude,

I look in the blue sky for serenity;

I create a landscape and try to dream


I seek peace among the white fingers of the aurora


After not finding the line of understanding,

the root of the soul,

the wind of justice,

the submerged freedom,


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With his hands stained with blood

Mr. Maduro, I am enveloped and driven by a superb energy and leave you a message, on behalf of millions of angry hearts, a simple message: We want you to go away!

All of this has been more than enough. We are tired of your evilness, your abuses, your cynicism, your humiliations and want you to know that we are all swathed with your "mistakes". We demand to return to the Venezuela that our paren...

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In the air, the pallor rises showing faces of wrath,

breathing shame in light of a complex coalition of schemes;

a sudden fury appears discreetly under the crying


and the world indifferent...


Amazed glances are exchanged;

the impertinent silence is not tolerated ...

while the inventory of gifts continues

buying those in olive green uniforms, governments and judges


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It dawns under my skin

Today is in an outcast dream

that I strongly seek in this twist of fate

of orphaned humanity


It dawns beneath my skin and I look in the mirror,

the same one in which I frequently see myself;

it always returns me to the terrible place

where my dreams were mutilated


Restless, without answers,

I would like to invent words that embrace life;

I cannot stand the look...

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sad poems

One syllable

It is a rose in front of God,

freewill exercised with consideration,

the voice of serenity,

hope invoked by the flawless faith that loves gives us


The serene vision of a brotherhood that has no color,

language, borderline, age, nationality or creed


The unexpected voice of life that understands the sharp cry where sorrow sleeps;

the coffin nails, the falsehood,


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