The Four Faced Wind

Poetry by Valeria Castellanos


September 2015



Eclipse, eclipse
A moment of bliss
A blush, a kiss
Perhaps a chance
Perhaps a dance
A moment to embrace romance
The end of waiting
At last a mating
A merger of souls
Entranced, vibrating
A wild flirtation
An invitation
An undertaking
An earth shaking, agitation
A penetrating, fascinating
Joyful, new awakening

What a collaboration!
A vibrant coordination
A vision of orbiting collision
The culmination of an elation
The intention of a capture
Made of wild and rampant rapture
A revelation, the best sensation
A sweet invocation
To moths of the night
And, to owls on the wing
For stars to shine brightly
And, planets to sing

An accident, a destiny
A time of love, a time of fate
Time to destroy, to hate or create
What is this moment of mating creating?
Is it for loving? 
Is it for hating?
Tell us, oh, tell us
The whole world is waiting

The hot sun is growling
The cold moon is howling
This magic conjunction of powers, is scowling
Announcing the birth of a minatour monster
A human imposter
An apple with thorns
Or a songbird with horns
Is it time for a demon or wild flower
To prosper?

A time to take care,
And, to be most aware
So, turn and see who’s 
Standing right next to you
And, do you know why they are there?

Autumn Wind

Yellow Leaves 2

My feet are not always
Bound to the ground
Sometimes I live in a melody
I live in a color, an image
A breeze or a puff of smoke
A mirage, an idea,
An ideal, an emotion
Sometimes I am happy
When the wind is blowing fiercely
And, every yellow leaf that falls
Becomes a butterfly
A golden bird
A marigold in the sky

Later, when the wind is still
And, only the turbulence of the universe disturbs the clouds
After all the leaves have fallen
And, have been gathered up by the ground
I sit and sigh
Because the dance is done
And, tomorrow offers only hibernation
Repressed heartbeats, breath and passion
Reflections of kaleidoscopic snowfalls
Frozen holograms and the suffocating silence of ice

The Way it Goes

Blue Cicada

The blue cicada stopped and frowned 
consumed by a sadness so profound 
she failed to look around 

Pounced on by an attentive snake 
wandering through the garden’s ground 
she was grabbed and gobbled up 
and, then was swallowed down 

But, alas, the snake
made a big mistake
she was not quick enough to take
the path to the left
or the path to the right
she stayed instead in the bright sunlight
and, was spied by a blue heron’s sharp eyesight
Then, in a wink, in a wide eyed blink
quicker than you could come or go
or you could even think
the snake was gone and the bird did fly
off and, away in the blue, high sky
no one left behind him to laugh or sigh or cry
but, a little silver cloud and a bright, green fly

And, just so that you know
in the great bye and bye
next day a gray spider came along
and, devoured the little, green guy

Feast of the Swollen Fruit

Autumn Frog by V. Castellanos

The dry, rare, red air
has set my eyes aglow
my breath unsteady
my lips unready
and, my hair
like wire
on fire

The wind
in crimson rushes
through the flowered throngs
encourages my songs
to right the wrongs
entices the broiling
serpentine skies
to release their lies
to give up their ties
to give up their rains
for the green, thirsty frogs
who worship the water
and, who pray
with voices loud
to the roiling cloud

The underworld is shaking
breaking up
underneath the green, shade leaves
where the restless, green mist breathes
full of awe and always knowing
she must keep the jungle growing
berries bright and nectar flowing
green frog’s eyes must keep on glowing
hearts keep jumping, bumping, heaving
frog’s skin, humid, must keep breathing
dodging sunbeams everywhere
wanting water, wishing damp air
hungry, hunting here and there
hunting eggs afloat
lazy puddles 
streams run swift
seeds to sprout
and insects flying
insects dying
insects trying
to make it with a wild heartbeat
through late summer’s dry, red heat
to the time of celebration
reason for the whole creation
the Feast of the Swollen Fruits of Fall
with good tidings to soon be upon us all

The Blue Mahogany

The Blue Tree in the Everglades by V. Castellanos
The Blue Tree in the Everglades by V. Castellanos

I believe in the internal, chemical connections 
between belief and happiness

I believe I am made of light 
and I am happy 
because the stars sing to me 
and the blue mahogany catches me 
     in her arms and kisses me

I believe I am made of songs 
and I am happy 
because I can catch the wind 
and the shadows of the moon
    before they reach the blue horizon

The blue mahogany believes
she is made of shadows
and I am the kiss of the wind 
She believes the moon is happy 
because I have been caught by the song of the clouds

The wind believes 
the mahogany is made of songs
and I am the shadow of the stars  
He believes the clouds are happy
because the light catches the blue horizon

The moon believes 
the light is made of wind
and I am a song
She believes the shadows are happy
because the stars kiss the clouds

I believe you caught me
in the song of the blue mahogany
when the clouds were made of light
and the wind was made of stars
and the shadows of the moon kissed the blue horizon

You believe I am made of kisses
and I am happy because you are the light of my life

I believe I am happy
because you catch me in your arms
and sing to me the songs 
of the light of the stars 
and the moon’s blue, horizon clouds
and the songs 
of the wind’s blue mahogany shadows

I believe we are made of songs and light
and happiness
because we believe we are in love

The Whispering Rain


Water, impassioned




 Remembers everything

Heard or tasted or seen

And, rain washes everything clean

The whispering rain

Has come back again

   It drives me insane

   Gathers all of my secret life

My joyfulness, my sighs, my strife

   My music and my soulful kisses

   My carousels and ringing shells

   Fire works and singing bells

   Sand spur beaches, wishing wells

   The woven magic of mathematics

   Psychic poems and dramatics

   The dreams of maniacs and addicts

Then sheds them everywhere, like tears

Of rampant joys or woeful fears

The wind is racing into the future

   And, now it is almost there

   Wrestling with time

   So short is mine

   Ignoring my sorrow

   And, seeking tomorrow

But, time is a tyrant

   Orders the world

   Keeps the world in order

   Keeps the world within the border

   Denies commotion

   Rejects emotion

   And, keeps his hard, cold hold

On everything he reaches

He will not relinquish control

My remembering, now, is shifting




Breaking all of my rules

Misleading myself and the other fools

Yesterday, quickly gone

   Like the liquid moment of a slick, rippling dawn

Blurred, deferred, unheard anywhere

I don’t care

   Today I am going to be

   Whatever I see

Almost nothing

   Moves faster than light

   So, nothing defines me as much as my sight

Yet, my memories, fading, I want to hold tight

Let me remember my dreams

   And, the wishes and schemes

   That I lost in the night

I promise to whisper them, right

   Back, into time

Into mirrors and rhyme

All of my memories

   Standing in line

   Ring, again and again

   Like a lovely refrain

   They drive me insane

Say I’ve nothing to lose

Say I’ve nothing to gain

   Why not give all my thoughts

To the whispering rain?

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