Yesterday we left Christmas day Isidro Gimeno, a good man who was always connected to the cycling world with his wife Nuri.
Since this is my small tribute.
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| De xallenge 2010 |
Papiol, març 14, 2010.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Baby Walker Replacement Wheels
GOODBYE TO A GOOD FRIEND, 26 desembre 2010
Yesterday we left Christmas day Isidro Gimeno, a good man who was always connected to the cycling world with his wife Nuri.
Since this is my small tribute.
Papiol, març 14, 2010.
Yesterday we left Christmas day Isidro Gimeno, a good man who was always connected to the cycling world with his wife Nuri.
Since this is my small tribute.
Papiol, març 14, 2010.
How To Hang Puzzle On Wall
BIOGRAFÍA (Poema de Jaime Gurdian)
Me?
I only sadness I have,
airport Tristezas
endless airport corridors claims, Night flights
, Farewell
wet glass walls.
Amores and close friends
What I did not see any more in life,
Me?
I live just dismissed.
Love me goodbye at the corners. Or
horrible evening hours,
Sometimes in a taxi, bus
Or that evaporates with my empty eyes, watching
Or a handkerchief from a window on a train to be forgotten.
(Buenos Aires 1978).
I only sadness I have poets,
I love mine, I say my last goodbye
We no longer read. There are more important matters in life ... I think.
solo writing this April afternoon in exile long
Under relentless rain of San Jose who takes pity on me,
And with me.
Me?
Keep, with phobias of airports,
still cry when boarding an airplane,
I see my parents from the window of the old plane
Cup
On the terrace of Managua Airport
Waving her arms Saying goodbye
Me Forever,
(December 13, 1971)
In my student trip south.
I saved from dying
accidental encounters Leon
And in Ithaca.
Embraces of my brothers poets
And beer. Jaime Buitrago Gil
in the morning reading my Leon
His last poem of dropouts.
I also saved this girl's smile
Far,
Taken one evening to the English sun
In an Iberia plane
(September 3, 2009)
hope I saved
And the time machine Wells,
Where I would go without fear
Without anxiety, without having to take a few drinks
To soothe the anguish coming to me crying. 
I only sadness I have,
airport Tristezas
endless airport corridors claims, Night flights
, Farewell
wet glass walls.
Amores and close friends
What I did not see any more in life,
Me?
I live just dismissed.
Love me goodbye at the corners. Or
horrible evening hours,
Sometimes in a taxi, bus
Or that evaporates with my empty eyes, watching
Or a handkerchief from a window on a train to be forgotten.
(Buenos Aires 1978).
I only sadness I have poets,
I love mine, I say my last goodbye
We no longer read. There are more important matters in life ... I think.
solo writing this April afternoon in exile long
Under relentless rain of San Jose who takes pity on me,
And with me.
Me?
Keep, with phobias of airports,
still cry when boarding an airplane,
I see my parents from the window of the old plane
Cup
On the terrace of Managua Airport
Waving her arms Saying goodbye
Me Forever,
(December 13, 1971)
In my student trip south.
I saved from dying
accidental encounters Leon
And in Ithaca.
Embraces of my brothers poets
And beer. Jaime Buitrago Gil
in the morning reading my Leon
His last poem of dropouts.
I also saved this girl's smile
Far,
Taken one evening to the English sun
In an Iberia plane
(September 3, 2009)
hope I saved
And the time machine Wells,
Where I would go without fear
Without anxiety, without having to take a few drinks
To soothe the anguish coming to me crying.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Easton Sv12 Ssv1b Fastpitch Reviews
Poema de Jaime Buitrago Gil (Nicaragua)
SELF
no longer read and write only.
By breathing, My lungs whistle
As full of reeds;
If I raise my arm
Pointing to a cloud, thunder
shoulder Like a broken mast.
A flock can not see
strikes me with his wings;
A bottomless pit
I pulled the feet.
The look flat
Walk the horizon above
not
Ni below. 
Jaime Buitrago Gil (Nicaragua)
no longer read and write only.
By breathing, My lungs whistle
As full of reeds;
If I raise my arm
Pointing to a cloud, thunder
shoulder Like a broken mast.
A flock can not see
strikes me with his wings;
A bottomless pit
I pulled the feet.
The look flat
Walk the horizon above
not
Ni below.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Mount Blade Gratis Codu
LOS RELEGADOS DE LA TIERRA
Alberto Cabredo-Panama "Flowers are the called unscented flowers fragrant flowers."
Antonio Porchia
That morning, against all logic , rose as it did in better times, fixed as it used to and went to the supermarket. He was careful to go down the stairs slowly to avoid falling because of the missing steps. Upon leaving, the walk home hurry, their quest was simple, always shopping for victualling his house. It was a task that took pains every fortnight. On those occasions, he would hum softly, bajiiiito, a paragraph of the song sorry Borincano the great composer Rafael Hernandez says "Sale overjoyed with her cargo to the city, oh! for the city. Bring in your thinking, a whole world full of happiness, alas! of happiness. "
Lolita came to Supermarket, lateral to the Tropical Theatre, took a forklift with a radiant smile and giving the good morning began to fill the same with all that was required at home. In this activity, consulting with great interest rates, effective dates, quality of fruit and perishables. Completed its journey, the truck parked between the shelves of the establishment and retired to his residence.
The manager merely observe his departure and while rearranging the groceries, the cashier he rebuked his lack of action in this ritual that is repeated continuously every two weeks. He simply shrugged his shoulders and he repeated: - Do not fret, it is likely that their only common thread with the little sanity that should fit, his only link to the life and had already lost, the farce that is mounted on the supermarket. Who am I to destroy the fiction that keeps your feet still stuck on the ground?
Neither imagined that the lady half composed and thin, was once a senior official of various governments and even the country owed him a significant achievements. However, diminished energy and lost contact, was rejected as defective in factory gear, and therefore, bad living on a meager allowance from social security in a neighborhood forgotten the grace of the gods, being their only sin - as that of all his fellows - to live.
While not believe me, the wind has its ironies and protests (just pay attention). So, seeing her lentito slow walking back home, always whistling, without her noticing, another paragraph of regret Borincano: "Spend the entire morning ... no one wants to buy his load ay! buy your load. Everything, everything is deserted, the town is full of need, alas! of need. " 
Antonio Porchia
That morning, against all logic , rose as it did in better times, fixed as it used to and went to the supermarket. He was careful to go down the stairs slowly to avoid falling because of the missing steps. Upon leaving, the walk home hurry, their quest was simple, always shopping for victualling his house. It was a task that took pains every fortnight. On those occasions, he would hum softly, bajiiiito, a paragraph of the song sorry Borincano the great composer Rafael Hernandez says "Sale overjoyed with her cargo to the city, oh! for the city. Bring in your thinking, a whole world full of happiness, alas! of happiness. "
Lolita came to Supermarket, lateral to the Tropical Theatre, took a forklift with a radiant smile and giving the good morning began to fill the same with all that was required at home. In this activity, consulting with great interest rates, effective dates, quality of fruit and perishables. Completed its journey, the truck parked between the shelves of the establishment and retired to his residence.
The manager merely observe his departure and while rearranging the groceries, the cashier he rebuked his lack of action in this ritual that is repeated continuously every two weeks. He simply shrugged his shoulders and he repeated: - Do not fret, it is likely that their only common thread with the little sanity that should fit, his only link to the life and had already lost, the farce that is mounted on the supermarket. Who am I to destroy the fiction that keeps your feet still stuck on the ground?
Neither imagined that the lady half composed and thin, was once a senior official of various governments and even the country owed him a significant achievements. However, diminished energy and lost contact, was rejected as defective in factory gear, and therefore, bad living on a meager allowance from social security in a neighborhood forgotten the grace of the gods, being their only sin - as that of all his fellows - to live.
While not believe me, the wind has its ironies and protests (just pay attention). So, seeing her lentito slow walking back home, always whistling, without her noticing, another paragraph of regret Borincano: "Spend the entire morning ... no one wants to buy his load ay! buy your load. Everything, everything is deserted, the town is full of need, alas! of need. "
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Get Rid Of Gingivitis Cats
Poema de Abelardo Sewell Tyndell (Tico panameño)
I
Who
have predicted events of horror and terror, for a people trusted government
MEDIOCRATES;
knelt before altars
promises as fog and birth pangs,
to solve everyday problems.
regardless of the consequences of
atrocious events these days
not responsible for faults identified?
could export words
discharged by the seats arranged in unpunished.
are promises, actions, cries, decrees ...
That curdle in flowers of a single day,
life is fraught with impermanence in time.
seems that nothing we have learned since,
we ignore the more recent past. 
Who
have predicted events of horror and terror, for a people trusted government
MEDIOCRATES;
knelt before altars
promises as fog and birth pangs,
to solve everyday problems.
regardless of the consequences of
atrocious events these days
not responsible for faults identified?
could export words
discharged by the seats arranged in unpunished.
are promises, actions, cries, decrees ...
That curdle in flowers of a single day,
life is fraught with impermanence in time.
seems that nothing we have learned since,
we ignore the more recent past.
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