Television Program Proposal Sample

count alone

Bebo & Cigala - I forgot that I forgot you

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NOT SOLD

loneliness, a sad look,
twenty tears on the table a sheet of paper

empty pen about to write
early-morning rain in the window, rain
soul daily
all these caresses reserved
these simulations of happiness
Baker
corner with a dream two cane
just leave me
the smiles that I gave you this miserable
and
possibility that some
day not repeat history .... ah


there are things that are not sold

Gonzalo Gareis

Now that I recognize myself in the mirror, that the past is that smile, remembering beautiful moments today that time is my ally and walk to my pair, after so much water under the bridge, today road barefoot. Welcome if you come with me. I invite you.

Ed note: You may read this poem in Nostalgia, in another time in my life. Maybe not. Anyway, thanks for being. The hug.

Naruto Shippuden Fakku

Ismael Serrano - What will walk by

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WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU ARE ALONE?

lick cold dry wall with the right thumb
memories
sink with left cursing
time and the solitude of a dreary bed

can light another cigarette
no one scold total cough
snore much less someone who shares
a drink red wine over it

also choose to turn on the radio
and pretend that nothing happens
clear that it only takes very little
say it's just a condiment

or you may choose to remind
will never let you
words still so much to do
only to write a post mortem monologue

Hernán Gonzalo Gareis

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Monologue only

Rather abandoned, looted. My wife is not, nor his desire, and her lips
oblivion. And I should be quiet, because his absence is
days, trips, nothing overwhelming, nothing terminal, love
intact, everything perfect. But it is and the unusual room acoustics suffer.
around the house and no mouth in bed or in silhouette
windows. It sounds absurd, premature surly so fragile. But that happens
: only understand the roof when there is no roof. There is a gap
of war, a hand intact and without water. A suspected
loneliness in your clothes. You open the bathroom and see a single toothbrush. You
fruit every film. You could sleep, be drunken, wandering for days, raging
freely, but something is missing. The huge bed, the bed more
wonder wide. You miss me, I need your nerves, you gallop
the room, your river and your anger, your voice pouring through the halls,
wet night, burning the day, I need the suburb of your humor,
the dew of your caress , the fury of your anger, you need your eyes
therefore both

Venezuelan poet Leonardo Padrón