LINA HERNÁNDEZ FUENTES VENEZUELA
Biography
Born in Santa Lucia, Miranda State, Venezuela, in 1958.
From 2017_2018 she completed the Diploma of Communal Chronicler. Granted by the National Centre for Historical Studies Foundation and the Network of History and Heritage of the Edo-Aragua - Venezuela. Obtaining training and conservation of the historical memory of the Venezuelan people. He participated in various short story and poetry contests presented on different Instagram platforms, winning some of them. In collaboration with 19 other writers with whom they form an identified group, AEL (Amigos Entre Letras) has successfully completed two anthologies whose titles are: Amor, Humor y otros Crímenes and Relatos en la maleta.
In solitary the poetry book Poe Lindas; for sale on Amazon. Pseudonym: M. Lina Hernández Fuentes. Instagram@linaluna58escritora. YouTube Lina Hernández. X Señoralina.
POETRYS
BLUE
Blue, like the sky
where the clouds celebrate
like inebriated brides
Laughing at the future happiness.
Blue, like the calm sea,
deep, mysterious
whose waters envelop
and fall in love with the
swaying of the waves.
Blue, you transmit serenity,
confidence, reflection,
your presence alone calms
and sweetens the soul.
Blue, you are even a source of inspiration;
you were created with illusion
to fill with peace
and joy within us.
Blue, wonderful blue,
in the midst of infinite colours
you are the accomplice
of one and a thousand loves.
M. Lina Hernández Fuentes
VENEZUELA
BLOW OF LIFE
The wind approaches like soft music
sweetening my ears.
It whispers to me, caresses me,
kisses my lips,
embraces my body
until my skin bristles all over.
He is the accomplice of my fantasies,
the protagonist of my dreams.
The one who tucks me in with tender murmurs
when the moon goes to sleep.
He is the one who awakens my inner inspirations with the swaying of his breeze;
that which bathes my face with the morning dew.
Wind, come, don't go away,
blow, blow to me all those memories that only exist in my memory.
Don't let them fade away
I'm alone, don't abandon me too.
I want to keep on feeling the fresh breeze escaping from your lips
and listening to your whisper; for he is the breath of my life.
M. Lina Hernández Fuentes
VENEZUELA
FRED ELISABETH FRENCH GUIANA
Biography
FRED ELISABETH
He was born in in Pointe-à -Pitre in Guadeloupe, French West Indies and has been living in French Guiana since 1995.
He got a degree of Applied Modern Languages (French -English) at the University of Caen, Normandy in France.
Since 1997, he’s been an English teacher in the secondary school in French Guiana.
He’s a poet and is in charge of international relations for MITARAKA, a plurilingual poetry and arts magazine in French Guiana
Her name was Solitude
It is said that Mulatto Solitude participated in the fight against the French army.
Yes she was in, in Guadeloupe.in 1802.
Although she was pregnant,
tasting liberty she didn't want to become a slave again.
With her came an army led by rebellion Leader Louis Delgrès with men and women.
They were outnumbered. They were defeated
but their fighting spirit still lives on and we can still
hear their last words: «live free or die».
GIVE ME YOUR HAND
Give me your hand, so I can help you,
as the saying goes, believe me.
One hand washes another,
saying, so shall we help each other,
today I help you and tomorrow you'll help me.
Life is short, we must move forward,
together in solidarity and peace.
THE PAVEMENTS IN MY NEIGHBOURHOOD
The pavements in my neighbourhood are very nice, very beautiful.
It is a real pleasure to walk on them.
They give me the impression that I am someone very important.
Surely, there are nicer, more famous pavements,
but they are my favourites.
I come and go on them,
with different rhythms, walking, running, jumping,
and they make me the happiest person in the world.
We are here because they were there
Here I am in a foreign land despised and rejected.
To people who ask me why am I in their country?
I only say I am here because they were there.
How would I know your country if you hadn’t come to take what was not yours?
FRED ELISABETH
Guyana Francesca
JOLLA LETRAS ESPAÑA
BIOGRAPHY
Jolla Letras, he is a writer and poet of Spanish origin, lover of the protest genre and social reflection, although fond of romantic poetry. He is currently working on his first novel of dramatic and romantic genre. He has participated in several poetry tournaments in Mexico and Italy, his lyrics have been recognised by virtual poetry groups in Spain, Argentina, Colombia, published in the Greek magazine Polis. He has been selected and winner in Ceacorreciones of Spain in short stories. You can find her on Facebook as: JOLLA LETRAS.
POETRYS
DREAMS
Every morning I wake up hating you
for evaporating you from my sweet thoughts.
I see you, but the touch of my fingers
crosses your mental image
to vanish between them,
it's unbearable not to be able to touch you.
My lips try to find out your taste,
but the insipid reality is cruel
to my desire to know you.
I curse the capricious insomnia
that prevents me from reaching your abode
to consummate the dance of life and miracles
because our reality is vetoed,
Morpheus allow me to dream once more,
with the inquisitor of my sighs
to soak me again in her angel's dust
so I can disappear in peace.
Jolla lyrics
Spain
LET ME TRY
Give me a minute of your eternity
so that this tireless traveller
can show you a little piece of happiness.
I understand that in you it's alien...
That someone really loves you.
But don't see in me a Pharisee.
But the one who desires you forever.
So far you have tasted only poison
And you distrust the word loyalty,
knowing that in your heart you put the brake,
But I want you to know my reality.
That I'm dying to sleep in your bosom,
And I live by enduring your coldness.
Because your armour is made of ice.
So I will melt it, guarding your fragility,
And I will overcome all the obstacles of the terrain
To make room, for our chance.
Jolla lyrics
Spain
REFLECTION
Why don't children look at the moon or the stars?
It is because their parents no longer rock them in the cradle.
That's why they haven't learned to appreciate beautiful things.
We give the child a screen, so that he doesn't throw tantrums and doesn't bother,
and then he misses us,
when it treats us like scoundrels,
turning into something unpleasant,
a warrior without a battle.
Let's teach him to enjoy heaven,
the metamorphosis of a cloud caressed by the wind,
To enjoy the song of a bird,
To celebrate the freedom of being perched in a tree.
To avoid the child's anger,
For not having that same freedom and not even a tree to climb.
We inculcate them to be competitive,
and we forget to make it fun.
We force them to memorise,
without teaching them to understand
much less to think.
Spain
ADRIANA RODRIGUEZ MÉXICO
Name: JRR, Adriana Rodriguez. H. Matamoros
COUNTRY: Tamaulipas, Mexico
Biography:
She has participated in local and virtual poetry events of poetry and in literary programmes of digital magazines. She is a contributor to several anthologies. She has published narrative in different digital magazines. She is a member of the group Hacedores de fuego of the UK poet's house. Author of the books of short stories: ‘Pesadillas, Crónicas de los sueños’ and Poemario ‘Ido’.
POETRYS
Poetry: TEMPEST
What is the autumn rain?
It falls in cold and grey tones
Carrying away on the winds
How many thousands of secrets?
That are kept in illusion
They follow your rustic steps
to the beat of the storm
in every somersault a dip
and your shoes fill with water
and the umbrella is emptied of the alluvium
There is a muddy path
that washes away in the downpour
that scorns memories
that cleanses itself of insecurities
and follows the walking path.
Between tears and warm smiles
you reach the shore
of a thin wisp that shelters
AJRR Adriana Rodríguez
Copyright reserved
México
Poetry: Letters without an owner
Love is so far away
and not to be loved, so close
that I am nothingness, I become an abyss
I wait for your gaze
What rosary is in my head?
do you turn around?
To find me in absence
Punishing my dwelling place
What has been my sin?
To love him at the wrong time
What will be my condemnation?
To lose myself forever in me
What sanity shall I care for?
Yes, in madness, my mind borders on madness
Which flower shall I pluck?
If there's no maybe, no maybe you love me or you don't love me
If no roses grow in my swamp
yes, in my desert there is only drought
Yes, in my house there are no windows
where I can look at the sky
What fault would life have?
For not seeing you coming through my doorway?
Yes, I threw the key to heaven
Believing that I would reach God
In the midst of prayers,
I pleaded folding my hands together, until...
AJRR Adriana Rodríguez
México
LASKIAF AMORTEGUI COLOMBIA
BIOGRAPHY
Laskiaf Amortegui, born in the eastern plains of Colombia, of gypsy origins, is a poet, speaker, cosmetology manager, self-taught and writer at heart in training. She is a resilient woman, lover of the paranormal and the evolution of being, and works as an independent energetic leveller in the alternative area of emotional and physical health. Letters together with her family are her loves and passions. Author of the novel ‘La Jaula De Las Mariposas’, a dramatic novel that tells the story of five women and their environment, has received excellent reviews and is in the top of Amazon in its genre. Her main goal in writing is to move the reader, and just as she enjoys writing stories, she hopes they will enjoy reading her. She loves all genres, but struggles with horror and comedy. When it comes to writing, she faces her biggest rival: her dyslexia, but in the end, if it weren't for it, she wouldn't be a writer, and her mentor and sponsor who encouraged her to publish her compositions, which have brought her awards, triumphs and prizes in poetry, narrative and voice-over at an international level. Her creations have been translated and published in other languages. The letters together with her family, are the engine to face every existential challenge that arises. You can also read her on her social networks: @laskiaf_escritora on instagram, Laskiaf Amortegui and escritos de Laskiaf on her facebook page.
POETRYS
QUESTION
Will you remember me?
One day you loved me
One day you cried for me
Knots of feelings that choked the soul
Tongues furrowed with loneliness
I think of you...
They cry out to me: Forget!
The rain wets my body
Heart overflowing
My soul is flooded
Armour of icebergs...
I am oblivion
OCASO
A nostalgic laughter
I sense my end is near
The window is my friend.
Glances across lost in the autumnal twilight
Legs no longer walk without a cane
Sometimes they don't even get out of the chair
Memories come and go, memories come
There's no more time to dream
Conscience accuses, doubt tortures.
The sigh gives me happiness.
The fogged mirror reflects me.
Again I turn to the horizon, where the sun dies and perhaps my soul will go.
Laskiaf Amortegui
Colombia
PRIDE
My bed misses you.
And my body not to speak of.
The sheets are no longer wet,
now only my tears wet them.
My lips, my mouth and my tongue miss you.
That dance of tongues I long for.
My body cries out: come back!
And yours is calling for me... too!
Leave your damned pride and let's wet the bed again.
Laskiaf Amortegui
Colombia