Last Love Poems: Between love and friendship

July 22, 2017

By Eddy Montilla.

If you see her someday, there is nothing you have to say.

When time and distance presage the worst,

bare silence is better than plain words.

Show her your best smile, raise your head

and keep calm instead.

And she will come to understand

how sad sadness can be,

how deeply it can bore through your soul.

Talk to her about everything, but don’t tell her anything.

A long time has passed

and time says things, and it also betrays…

Please, don’t tell her anything…

don’t tell her how I have been,

If I smile or cry, if I cry or smile,

if I still go out in the evenings

for my long walks,

not a single word to her.

Don’t tell her the way I live; don’t tell her the way I’m dying.

If I can neither live in the present nor forget my past,

if I buried my future or I’m still looking for it,

if I joke as I did to make people laugh,

to hide my taciturn heart,

If my saddest poems come in autumn or spring,

just raise your head, show your smile, don’t tell her anything

because dry leaves are blown by the wind,

but the wind is also blown by the dry leaves.

If you see her someday, don’t show her anything.

Neither show her pictures nor videos.

That only helps to engender rumours

that will die at first light.

To recall distant memories and surf on the waves of nostalgia

will not make me grow, will not increase my hopes.

Today, at this point of my life,

I leave those things for a special night:

My room in half-light,

with Spanish Serrano ham and Manchego cheese

and a glass of red wine to nurture treasured memories.

If you see her some day,

keep walking forever, but stop for a while.

We both loved her and neither of us had her.

We both lost her. It’s time to forget.

You loved her outside; I loved her inside.

I loved her soul; you loved her smile.

We are friends, friends with ties,

ties that bind us to a friendship that will never die.

Copyright 2017 All rights are reserved.


Last Love Poems: I fell in love again

December 31, 2013

By Eddy Montilla.


Those gloomy feelings are coming again…

And with then,

doubts and moments of hesitation,

faltering steps, abrupt stops

and lost looks are here too.

And those butterflies that once I had forgotten them

emerge from fire to bring my fate:

They presage with incandescent flight

the arrival of a romance

that never had a beginning, that never had an end.

My heart is covered with confusion again.

And it asks me the same question over and over:

Since when my reality became so absurd

that today absurdity has become my reality?

I go for a walk at nightfall, as usual

Trying to find reasons and explanations,

Trying to organize my thoughts,

running away from sibylline clouds

that threaten me with taking my biggest treasure:

Peace in my mind, peace in my heart.

They make me see images that I don’t want to remember,

feelings that I want to forget.

This is how fears and anxiety come to life.

Difficult days are back.

Time to wait is here,

minutes, in a couple of minutes, become hours;

and moments, eternal silence.

Yes. Difficult days are back

and encounters too:

chance encounters sometimes,

forced encounters almost all the time.

And I am always thinking what I should say

foreseeing situations that never happened.

At times, I believe that I have seen goblins,

mischievous goblins with pure heart that like to cause me trouble

by taking me to a world

where loneliness reigns, where memories live.

They take me with their winged feet to the highest sky

to achieve chimeras, and later,

make me crash and make me feel bad.

And then, at that time, something strange happens…

And moments of happiness are also coming too,

ephemeral moments with eternal look.

And I can see hills, mountains and rainbows,

stars laughing, lovers thinking.

Chaffinches talking and larks singing.

I write verses and read poems again

and live in an imaginary world,

a world tailor-made for me,

surrounded by peonies and pansies

beneath a cerulean sky by the sea:

I fell in love again.

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved.

Last Love Poems: To your way

October 31, 2013

By Eddy Montilla.


That’s the way I love you:

With fears and doubts,

with your curly hair,

with the body of a woman and the heart of a child,

with all your tantrums and caprices

because people judge, but love forgives

and it leaves its mark with each step,

like waves that bore through rocks

or dew over the grass.

That’s the way I love you:

Sometimes sane, sometimes crazy…

With your iris smile and coral eyes,

and cherry blossoms at your side,

singing to the clouds,

showing all your life

or pulling the petals off lilies

to set them free over my hands.

Your look takes a walk in my mind every night

and chat with my thoughts without reproaches.

The hours go by… And when I wake up

And I still see you there:

Not my “darling”, not my “honey”,

But “my first rays of the day”,

my “warm morning in spring”.

Yes. That’s the way I love you:

Like crystalline dreams that came true

or camellias cultivated by an old man,

like chrysalises turning into butterflies

like a flock of birds in the blue sky.

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved.

Last Love Poems: Faithfulness

September 23, 2013

By Eddy Montilla.

Caribbean Sea

When the dawn breaks and says: “Good morning”,

you can count on me.

When graysh afternoons come to your life,

you can count on me.

If your sun does not rise in the East any more

or a thousand times you say you don’t love me,

you can count on me.

If you don’t hold out any hope,

If sadness sits at your side,

If happiness packed its clothes,

and your days, by an irony of fate,

stopped being sunny and bright,

you can count on me.

If loneliness lay at anchor

in your daily harbor,

if your dreams are only dreams

and clouds don’t float in a blue sky,

you can count on me.

If you need someone to talk

or a heart that you can love,

you can count on me.

But… If some day you close your eyes

to say better: Stay away,

on that day, I’ll open mine,

looking up at a starry night

and waiting until you love me.

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved.

Last Love Poems: From my bed

September 4, 2013

By Eddy Montilla.


Today, I had a burning desire to write something for you

with cut-glass verses, as if I were a poet

to tell you that I am happier now…

To tell you that sad winds cannot reach my lintel any more,

to tell you that the sparkle of love in your eyes

knocks at the door of my soul every morning.

However, mornings are not my fondest memories,

but that balmy summer evening at dusk.

Now it is my medicine for my sleepless nights,

my galleon laden with treasure, my coveted dream.

I modeled my thoughts, you modeled the clay

with innocent expression, with tender look,

with the smile of a girl who only wants to be happy,

and the little bird that from your hands came to life

alighted on mine every summer evening.

A lot of things are different since then…

The walls of my door are painted with your name,

cypresses are more cheerful

and the wind sighs in them.

You make our lives more beautiful

like wallflowers do in late spring.

Now we are happily prisoners of the way you are.

Yes. Today, I had a burning desire to tell you something…

To tell you, for example, that I don’t know what to say.

To tell you, perhaps, that you are my love litany prayed to my heart,

a lark that sings at dawn.

To tell you that your beauty flies in the days of my nights

like butterflies do through my mind.

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved.

Last Love Poems: To talk about you

August 16, 2013

By Eddy Montilla.


To talk about you, I don’t need efforts,

eloquent speeches or feverish dreams.

I don’t have to stare at my own image,

reflected in the water of a pool like Narcissus.

I don’t need pink hands like Aurora.

There is no need to hold out hope or futile remembrances.

There is no need to wait until the butterflies kiss the geraniums.

To talk about you, licenses are not required.

I don’t have to be an oracle or a lifelong dream.

I don’t have to sell time and try to earn high rates of interest

or to shake the foundations of my conscience in order to find there a lost moment.

It’s not necessary to be a lawyer or engineer;

it could be better to be a carpenter or a poet.

To talk about you, I only need a minute:

A minute of silence.

A minute of peace.

A minute from God.

A minute of love.

A minute of minute.

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved.