WendyBeckettX

and almost finished my characters so I take this opportunity to thank you as always to thank you for everything recently lived the hardest of my life and much of that we still follow here is that you are always take me a smile I hope you read not only I give you happiness but you to my I also love them a lot

Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. After a poet wrote some verses that tell the story of this beautiful flower.

Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall.

He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. After a poet wrote some verses that tell the story of this beautiful flower.Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her..The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. then a poet created some verses to tell the story of this beautiful flower. Beyond these skies, far away from here where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill with light and to continue with its daily waste. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. After a poet wrote some verses that tell the story of this beautiful flower.

I was walking like always careless with the rumbo that takes me home when then appears out of nowhere the most beautiful girl of the place. The miré has returned the mirada hoy brillaron más el sol y el alelí: he has accepted me una rosa de regalo y luego sonrió, cuando yo le sonreí. Eight suns stopped their wandering path and came to me with their light, the stars looked at me sweetly and the moon will sigh over the sea. I see the most beautiful flowers blooming and I see the ones that are going to bloom I hear the harmonious song of the birds that used to hear us only yesterday. I slept in the aroma of the flowers that on the edge of the ravine existed I could see me portrayed in the mirror of the deep green of his sad look. Breaks the wind the silence singing, trina the bird her beautiful song, vibra mi alma con todo lo bello, palpita alegre mi fiel corazón. Today I will sing the songs those men sing that know love.

Every year they see fewer birds in the field the mornings are the saddest no longer they're happy with their song. The beautiful loicas with their pechuga colorada the twos, diucas y zorzales hid in the bushes. There are no old skinny ones where the little ones made their nests, nor are there tortoises, tortolitas, all the birds are gone.. El hombre con su escopeta El niño con su honda They hunt them for fun and even destroy their nests The birds believe God created them. The cernícalo, little, traro of the birds is his enemy as well as the son of the man when he sows the wheat. Never kill a little bird. It's best to have a nest. If you don't have a mother, the chicks die of hunger and cold.. Learn from nature the most beautiful thing that God created where no drugs or drunkenness only praise the Lord. They eat gusanitos and you can watch them they run and then listen and so they can find them.

There were ten little piglets born to a mother I chose to make the most beautiful girl in the parva just had six months and wanted to be a mother. I didn't agree to her wishes so she wouldn't pass it on. Then months passed and no one could stop her. She would go three times a year.. y como es tan regalona come solo lo que le gusta: milk, fruits, wheat, chancado and some fat chicken. Three months estuvo perdida por el tiempo de las avellanas One day I heard news that in a old dock I was staying to pick her up sleeping I woke up muy temprano, y al llegar no pude verme, con una vela en la mano. Calling her by her name, the suit until her chiquero had me pregnant by there I don't know how y the crianza has increased. Twice had chanchitos in a winter night, stayed out in the potrero and cried, of the cold, died. But she recovered and after a couple of months of nuevo estaba pari'a otra vez she was attacked by a lion: llegó con las piernas heredadas. With a lot of penicillin, the car was still alive, in its chiquero, two months of pure food.. Up to his farm, Don Ciro one day had to cut down because no one could get the Cocha and her offspring out of there. Fifty and four paritions in eighteen years of life between five and twelve lechones were the ones she had. by an average of seven fifty four paritions and three hundred and seventy seven to ten thousand, and four millions. Happy today the car passes by the potreros that wants, old man, no longer has children but is still arrogant and proud. Always eating something good, everything is forgiven, and no one fears death.. The neighbors know her and the dogs know her, if anyone wants to bite her, they'll bite.. When my grandchildren come she gets jealous and gets ahead of me to see how much the car is worth

Yesterday I visited the cemetery of my pueblo and I stopped at the tomb of the empty cross I have passed by there many times but never looked at it and neither did I see it. There are a number of mujer written in it with beautiful relief characters that remain with the passage of the years with its rains, storms and snow. But who is this woman who lives there? What is the story of the life he lived will have remained in memories of the past, will there be vestiges of the life he led? Did you enjoy the scented scent of flowers and the zigzagging flight of beautiful butterflies, admired the curving sparkle of the rainbow and the pale pink that paints some roses? Were you a direct part of countless stories of unbridled, ignoble, cruel passion written in large white letters on a small piece of white paper? Very radiant in your wedding dress, bouquet in hand, did you reach the altar and at the foul malicious comment your purity could never be sullied? Have you conquered the beginning of the dawn, cultivated the virile sighs in your wake, labored under inclement suns when they wander walking towards their sunset? Did you enjoy love and pleasures, did you taste the elixir of happiness, or did you live in continual suffering under the gloomy reign of misery? Did you ever cross my path or did you simply pass by me covered with a cloak of sadness walking with your rhythmic step? Do we meet one evening face to face And on your lips a beautiful smile bloomed And in shame your cheeks flushed You ran away from me in a hurry? Did your smile caress some wanderer, did you spread your smile around the world, or did your hand scatter the tares with actions of vileness and cunning? Did you give yourself to the wrong man and your life became a wild winter, or did you give yourself to the one you loved passionately, all filled with joy in your heart? Did you fall asleep one day sweetly, did you simply forget to wake up, or did your life fall apart?.

Beyond all our sky where the sun shines on a black background lived a very beautiful little princess who trod fields of blossoming fields. Princes born on distant planets temper temper tempers in lonely hours teaches harsh-faced preceptors to love the beautiful and speak softly. One morning as she lay reclining in prayer her dawn before the altar came a refined fragrance message wrapped in the sigh of royal presence. “I am the little prince of that fairy tale who humbly aspires to have your love, who in the middle of a small planet grows, for you, the most beautiful flower. Come to me, my pampered Little Prince, come this far, adored little princess, the most I want in life is for you to always be my beloved. We'll go together on the sidereal roads, we'll visit a fox that lives in the desert, a snake will be the dearest friend, we'll enjoy the grass that grows in the open field And one evening the princess set out on a journey. Was it riding a wandering kite, at the beginning of a crystal clear laugh, or in the brightness of a morning glow? But in the vast distances of the sky the little princess simply lost her way. She did not find the place where the prince hoped. It was never her will, but it was her fate.. He set his foot on a land on the edge of the earth with many rivers that run down the mountain, a great desert, mountain range, beautiful lakes and a huge, very calm sea that bathes him.. And she gave up on the journey back, seduced by the great beauty of a little copy that captivated her with its bright red while hanging from a branch of a little copy.. And the elders gave him a beautiful name that ends with E and E and begins with SE selected among many other names as the cutest they could find. And the princess walks through the places of the earth planting very beautiful flowers everywhere in her gardens they always look blooming and there are many others waiting to bloom. one.. Keep going

To be in love, friends, is to find the right name for life. It is to give an end to the words that to face death one needs. It is to recover the hidden key that opens the prison where the soul is held captive.. It's rising from the ground with a force that claims from above. It's breathing the broad wind that breathes above the flesh. It's about looking at the cause of the injury from the top of the person.. It's to see in some eyes a true look that looks at us. It's hearing in one mouth one's own voice deeply repeated. It's surprising in a few hands that warmth of perfect company. It is to suspect that, forever, the loneliness of our shadow is vanquished.. To be in love, friends, is to discover where body and soul meet. It's to hear in the desert the crystal clear voice of a river calling to us. It's looking at the sea from the tower where our childhood has been imprisoned.. It's resting sad eyes on a landscape of storks and bells. It's occupying a territory where perfume and weapons coexist.. It is to give the law to each rose and at the same time receive it from his sword.. It's confusing feeling with a bonfire that rises from the chest. It is to rule the light of fire and at the same time be a slave to the flame.. It's understanding the thoughtful conversation of the heart and the distance. It's finding the path that leads to the realm of music without a rate.. To be in love, friends, is to own the nights and the days. It's forgetting between the excited fingers the distracted head. It's like remembering Garcilazo when you hear the song of a blacksmith. It's reading what the first swallows write in space.. It's like watching the evening star from a peasant's window.. It's watching a train go by the mountain with the lights on.. It's understanding perfectly that there are no boundaries between sleep and wakefulness.. It's ignoring the difference between grief and joy.. It's listening to the midnight vagrant confession of the downpour. It's seeing in the darkness of the heart a little light. To be in love, friends, is to suffer space and time with sweetness. It's waking up one morning with the secret of flowers and fruit.. It is to be free of oneself and to be united with other creatures.. It's not knowing if they're someone else's or your own.. It is to trace back to the source the murky waters of the torrent of anguish. It's sharing the light of the world and at the same time sharing its dark night.. It's to marvel and rejoice that the moon is still moon. It's proving in body and soul that the task of being a man is less difficult.. It's starting to say always, and from now on never again.. And it is, moreover, my friends, to be sure of having clean hands.

my heart beats for you, my life beats for you, you are the sun that lights my way, the fresh breeze that fills me with life, my love, my happiness, my all

and I love how soul mates love, how true lovers love, with passion, with dedication, with all my heart

You're my perfect match, my orange half, my other half, you're the person I've always looked for, the love I've always yearned for..

Your old teenage heart rests in my hands, and may it open in stories, dead smells, bells and echoes of bells. You come to tell me today, you come down from the mountains of your childhood, the apron full of flowers and the fear of pine in the eye. Come and love me too; you know how little it is to live; rest your helplessness in mine, telling me your childhood, without words. You, like me, when you come back from the coasts, or from the forests, or from the mountains, facing life or the spring or the edge of the year that is ending, you think: things pass faster than our eyes can behold them. To dream every minute lived, it would take a year. You want to have the dead days recounted, like letters, having poured out all their nobility for the day when you go before the Lord. You return, dreaming them slowly, to the fleeting things you left barely scratched; do not stay there, half squeezed, like oranges. You are now going to improve everything because what was, after death, changes; so in the children the deceased parents and the light of the old house. Put together one by one the toys of memory, the light fishing boats, with the name in black letters on the green and white bow, when, in the evening, the high breakers receive them in their vast shade; the seasons on the plain, the skies in the translucent sun that walks.. But now that I love you, gather with mine your prints; like children with their stamps of the world, of the color of foreign lands. We will walk together the unpicked fallowlands, of spent hours; we will talk slowly in the evenings, stirring the deep coffins. That what was to give us his blood, now that it is time, will not turn into nothing, and of this little we will one day bring to God our full hands. Confused the two memories our yesterdays one only be made, and from it, in common dream possessing it, our unique future be born. Spinning the fabric of memories that we will carry as a mortar, we will fold with days of the past all the days of tomorrow. Each hour with a memory paired and resonating, each image of you among mine tangling wrong, all in such confusion grow and bear fruit, what happened with what happens, and every thing unfolds in time; as your heart, beloved, smells of ancient springs and endlessly unfolds and pours out in sounds, and echoes, and echoes of echo, like the bells remembered

Don't let the day end without you growing a little, being happy, increasing your dreams.. Do Not Be Overcome by Discouragement. Don't let anyone take away your right to express yourself, which is almost a duty.. Don't give up the desire to make your life something extraordinary.. Don't stop believing that words and poetry can change the world.. Whatever happens our essence is intact. We are beings full of passion. Life is desert and oasis. It knocks us down, it hurts us, it teaches us, it makes us protagonists of our own story.. Though the wind blows against it, the mighty work continues:. Never stop dreaming, because in dreams man is free. No caigas en el peor de los errores: The silence. Most of them live in a terrible silence.. Don't give up. He's running away.. “I emit my screams from the rooftops of this world, says the poet. Appreciate the Beauty of Simple Things. You can make beautiful poetry about little things, but you can't row against yourself.. That makes life a living hell.. Enjoy the panic of having your whole life ahead of you.. Live it intensely, without mediocrity. Think of the future as in you and face the task with pride and fearlessness. Learn from those who can teach you. The experiences of those who came before us of our dead poets, help you walk through life The society of today is us: The living poets”. Don't let life pass you by without you living it..