Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Winter warm

By Marivel Guzman

There was a time, when I wondered in the timeless silence of solitude, when my books and my pen were my companions, my life was dull, bored and sad,

I was alone,

There was a time, when I flew in all the directions without compass, where the winds of the East were stronger than the West, I wanted to come back, but there was no place to call home, I felt alone,

I was lost.

There was a time, when “meaning” lost its true sense, where living was a painful task, eating was not a choice, writing was my secret refuge, and sleeping my escape, but even in my dreams I felt lost,  

I was exhausted.

There was a time,
when the air was hard to breath, my chest refused to expand, my eyelids weighted a ton, and my heart was cold as ice, living seemed to waste my time, to exhausted to be tired,

I was sad

There was a time,
when spring lost its colors, the birds chirped no more, the swelling buds collapsed, the seeds refused to germinate, my garden lost its essence with no birds or butterflies to feed,

I was dying

Time kept running out of my timeline, my space become confined, and it felt small to breath or move, but with courage, I stretched my might, and survived the loneliness of my sleepless nights.

I’m living again

I stepped out from the edge of death, and saw a world full of life, I amazed myself with wonders, I saw mountains blooming with majestic colors, I waved goodbyes to birds migrating North and South, and my garden is again an Eden to the bees, the insects and the butterflies, I breathe deep and calm, refreshing cool air awakes my conscience to receive a welcoming Winter warm.

I’m fresh like a morning rose, and my heart is joyful once again. It reminds me with its loyal beats, that I was never lonely, lost, or sad, it was always there for me, to comfort me with its warming pumps. But “winter warm” it’s my companion, it’s light that shines on my journey, it’s an anchor to keep me straight, to keep me dreaming for more tomorrows to come, and a paradise and refugee in case I need to escape.

Marivel Guzman is writer from the cyber world, a lady of strong commitments and devotion whose heart burns for those who are distressed and are in pain. She is a fighter on moral grounds, her convictions and truth are her only weapons. Guzman is a freelance journalist, a blogger, and a poet. (Photo:self portray by Marivel Guzman)

June 06, 2022 by Marivel Guzman

When I grow up

By Marivel Guzman

When I grow up, I want to be like you
seeing the world pass through me,
growing roots deep into the sky
I need to learn how to fly.

When I grow up, I want to be like you
I want to give light and warm,
and grow roots on Mother Earth
I’m starting to warm up.

When I grow up, I want to be like you
quenching thirsty minds
planting seeds in little souls
my ignorance is starting to wear out.

When I grow up, I want to be like you
running rivers to the oceans
flooding fertile lands
A mother I become.

When I grow up, I want to be like you
I’m selfish, greedy, and honestly naive
But I’m still young with a thousand places to go
with a million goals to achieve
I’m not even a hundred and 300 years to live.

With the wind, the sun, little
Knowledge, patience, and some time, I’m sure to achieve it all

Dear COVID-19, the  lockdown–Love Affair with death.

Originally posted on April 21, 2020

I don’t love you as my friends and followers do. Unlike them, I’m not digging in Google and Facebook for the number of deaths being announced every minute.

I’m not interested in their love affair with death.
They love the rush of adrenalina, when the COVID-19’s meter reaches the maximum punch of the day.

They search day and night in Google, looking for the nurse, taxi driver, maid, plumber, doctor, neighbor, friend of a friend, the niece of their uncle’s ex-wife’s son in-law, who MSM said died from #COVID19.

Your lover’s opinions are as interesting as mine 
But my data analysis is more valuable than your followers’ opinions, in my opinion of course.

Not even in my wildest dream I imagined, that the coronavirus could destroy in 3 months the free thinkers’s path.

Not even all Adelson’s millions deterred us in the not too distance past.
Our resolve with the oppressed in Palestine was stronger than the mainstream media charged headlines.

Even the billions of dollars invested on war couldn’t stop our efforts, to at least try to stop it, ignoring all the govs and MSM’s spin.

But in a few months, the fear of death crept into the subconscious of your followers. They stopped their daily routine, and voluntarily went into a home exile.

They left the warm  conversation with their family and friends in the cafeteria, and exchanged it for a promised government stimulus check.

They switched their modus operandi from social issues and protests, to a energized- browsing of everything with #COVID19’s news.

Your lovers are so invested in your defense that happily  write on their walls, “X, Y, Z who didn’t believe in the coronavirus died today (happy face).”

With an insatiable zeal, they dedicate themselves to publish, what they most repudiated and branded as insolent and incredible: The mainstream news.

My friends, brothers, sisters, colleagues and some family as well, all become the voluntary non-compensated force that patrol Facebook for “dissenters.” “If you believe the #COVID19 is a hoax, please delete me or unfollow me, one of your lovers said to me.

Dear COVID-19, I don’t love you, as I told you before, and I stand my ground against you, and your army of fear-vaccinated-souls (less)
I would rather give advice for the flu. Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze.

Take care of your elders. They are weak, fragile, and prone to diseases and falls. Fight the government mandate to isolation, which is a sentence to let them die alone

Rest in Peace, yellow vests, Hong Kong’s protesters, Amazon and water protectors, beggars, homeless, elderly, the poor, pensions, free expression, and friendships.

Marivel Guzman likes investigative reporting and photography. She likes to fish for information and get to the bottom of what is going on. She is very interested in following the money and seeing how public funds are being used. Guzman has worked at Lariat News, Orange Coast Report, and The State Hornet. Remotely she worked as Proof Editor for Baluchistan Red Crescent quarterly magazine. She also volunteers as a photographer for UNRWA in their local events.
She has a political blog for more than 10 years where domestic and international stories are discussed.

My other half – Akashma poetry

Updated June 18, 2020, at 01:30

My Other Half

by Marivel Guzman

Where were you love?
I knew you’d come!
I heard your little soft steps next to my bed,
I felt your fairy wings
dancing to the tune of my breathless hope

I sensed you getting ready for the dance of love. I saw you in the sparkles of the rain, I saw you halo curling in the mist.
I know was you who touched my shoulder in the night, right when I was feeling all broken down.
I knew you’d come, It is you
who saved me from the darkest dream.

Where were you love?
I smell the aroma of your shadow
breathing next to me.
I knew you’d be, it was you
courting my silhouette
inhaling every drop of my sleep.

Where were you love?
I needed your warm presence next to me,
I wanted to hear the whispers of your voice.
I missed your presence in my life.
I tried to forge in other hopes,
I tried to call in other names,
but love is not a costume dress that I can change.

Where are you love?
I need you tonight,
the piercing shout of my pain
will keep me awake if you don’t come,
your absence cut right through my soul.

Where are you love?
I need to embrace your name again,
I want to snuggle up
against your heart next to mine.

I know you come,
I know you miss my voice touching your ear.
I know your life is half without my touch,
I knew you’d come,
I’m feeling warm again tonight. ♥

Love is not love,
if it does not have its other half.

First Published on March 15, 2020, at 20:14

Marivel R Guzman © 2020

Akashma Poetry

Marivel Guzman, is an American poet, and fiction writer. (photo and graphics by Marivel Guzman)

Categories: News, Poetry Tags: ,

The Mist

The Mist

I feel myself as part of the air, the water, the mountain, the tree, the earth, the fire and the mist.

The abstract sensation of not being in a solid state but ether—that is, a ‘something’ that exists everywhere like the Akash that surrounds us all in a phrase, “From above so is bellow”.

This is a reflection of my altered essence that feels like being everywhere; touched but touching, admired but admiring, but also a transparent and diluted substance molded by the strokes of pain that follows everything I touch, everything that I dream.

But, there is also a feeling of being part of the ‘nowhere’, where you don’t see me, but you feel me; like the air. You feel me through my emotions, passions and pains. Everything that transpire from my essence is me. It’s my soul ‘talking’.

But at the end, I’m the mist of my conquered ideals. I have to surrender to justice and equality, and as the mist, I’ll disappear with white and black tones of grainy rebellion. My soul is boiling with tremores of love for humanity, for earth, for truth, justice and peace.

I must dissipate! ❤️


By Marivel Guzman

March 12, 2018

Breath the rainbow of life

by Marivel Guzman

Dedicated to Susanita Michelle Coccinella

Breath the Rainbow of life

Breath the Rainbow of life Art by Marivel Guzman

Breath the Rainbow of Life

As the rainbow bleeds its colors down to me,
magical strokes
arouse the other me,

life starts to grow
emotions and sensations
that were lost in the darkness
boredom of neglect and disaffection.

as pain recedes slightly,
on every inch of life’s color regained:
the red is velvet wrapped by soft rosy aroma,
the purple is lavender of sensations that surrounds,
every infinite atom of my soul.

My lungs are not just organs of existence,
they become the source of hope,
Inhaling, expanding,
inflicting life to warm my blood that races to meet a redder heart,
more beautiful, free of anguish and pain,
free to love again.
I breathe the air to inhale the hope to born again..
to learn that life is meaningless without love,
I born again to love love
to love it with the passion and the colors
of the rainbow.

Let me, as I feel free,
let me be a little crazy, artistic and poetic,
don’t judge me world for my soul is free,
let me love the way I love,
love my colors like the the rainbow love the sky that let it be.
-Marivel Guzman- Feb 5 2016

Munir, the poet of love‎

Marivel Guzman: Munir, the poet of love‎
Posted on April 29, 2010 by salqincity
Marivel Guzman: Munir, the poet of love‎

الساعة 07:04 مساءً‏
Munir…The Poet of Love

What will be of the beloved
Is your inspiration did not write it
What will be of the Love!
If your pen did not inspired it.

Munir the poet…have written
The words of love, on a paper
The Love for the word..with the pen
The love for love of the word

Munir the poet…have found
The Meaning of Inspiration
The meaning of the Word
The meaning of Love

So simple for the poet
To write down his mind
to express with melancholy
The language of love

Munir The poet of Love
inspires the word
To inspire poetry
To inspire the pen
To Write More
Munir…El Poeta del Amor
Traducida Por Marivel Guzman

Que seria del amado
Si tu inspiracion no lo escribiera
Que seria del Amor
Si tu pluma no lo inspirara

Munir El Poeta ha escrito
Las palabras de amor en papel
El Amor por la palabra…con la pluma
El Amor, por Amor a la Palabra

Munir..El Poeta, ha encontrado
El significado de la inspiratcion
El significado de la Palabra
El significado del Amor

Muy simple para el Poeta
Exteriorizar su mente afuera
Y expressar con melancolia
El lenguaje del Amor

Munir, El Poeta del Amor
Inspira la palabra
Para Inspirar la poesia
Para Inspirar la pluma
Para que mas escriba
Munir … il poeta dell’amore

Traducción:Mario Rigli

Cosa sarà dell’amata
Se non ne scrive la tua ispirazione?
Cosa ne sarà dell’Amore!
Se non lo ispira la tua penna?
Munir il poeta ..ha scritto
Parole d’amore, su carta
Con la penna… amore per le parole
Amore per l’amore della parola
Munir il poeta … ha trovato
Il senso dell’ispirazione
Il significato della Parola
Ciò che significa Amore
Semplice per il poeta
Da scrivere per la sua mente aperta
Con malinconia da esprimere
Il linguaggio dell’amore
Munir il poeta dell’amore
Ispira la parola
Nell’ispirare la poesia
Nell’ispirare la penna
A scrivere ancora.

Support our Palestinian Brother, the Poet Munir Mezyed

Join the Cause to Support Munir Mezyet

OR sign this petition

Invisible Revolution – Welcome To Our World

Posted by Marivel Guzman


This sensation of fullness

It is taking over your mind

It is guiding you to fight

On the surface of our world right now

There is war, violence, and craziness

And things may seem dark.

But calmly and quietly

At the same time

Something is happening underground.

Something Invisible is crawling

Dispersing and taking over, It’s

Growing like a Vine

An inner revolution is taking place

And certain individuals

Are being called to a higher light.

It is a silent revolution

From the inside out

From the ground up.

This is a global co-operation

That has sleeper cells in every nation.

It is a planetary Spiritual Conspiracy.

You won’t likely see us on T.V.

You won’t read about us in the newspaper.

You won’t hear from us on the radio.

We don’t seek glory.

We don’t wear any uniform.

We come in all shapes and sizes, colors and styles.

We are in every country and culture of the world

In cities big and small, mountains and valleys

In farms and villages, tribes and remote islands.

Most of us work anonymously

Seeking not recognition of name

But profound transformation of life.

Working quietly behind the scenes

You could pass by one of us on the street

And not even notice.

We go undercover

Not concerned for who takes the final credit

But simply that the work gets done.

Many of us may seem to have normal jobs.

But behind the external storefront

Is where the deeper work takes a place.

With the individual and collective power

Of our minds and hearts

We spread passion, knowledge, and joy to all.

Some call us the Conscious Army

As together

We co-create a new world.

Our orders come from the Spiritual Intelligence Agency

Instructing us to drop soft, secret love bombs

when no one is looking.

Poems ~ Hugs ~ Music ~ Photography ~ Smiles ~ Kind words

Movies ~ Meditation and prayer ~ Dance ~ Websites

Social activism ~ Blogs ~ Random acts of kindness…

We each express ourselves

In our own unique ways

With our own unique gifts and talents.

“Be the change you want to see in the world”

That is the motto that fills our hearts.

We know this is the path to profound transformation.

We know that quietly and humbly

Individually and collectively

We have the power of all the oceans combined.

At first glance our work is not even visible.

It is slow and meticulous

Like the formation of mountains.

And yet with our combined efforts

Entire tectonic plates

Are being shaped and moved for centuries to come.

Love is the religion we come to share

And you don’t need to be highly educated

Or have exceptional knowledge to understand it.

Love arises from the intelligence of the heart

Embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse

Of all living beings.

Be the change you want to see in the world.

Nobody else can do it for you.

Yet don’t forget, we are all here supporting you.

We are now recruiting.

Perhaps you will join us

Or already have.

We are the legion of the willing

Saving Our World

It is a Primer Task

For in this spiritual conspiracy

All are welcome, and all are loved.

The door is always open.

~ A poem by Brian Piergrossi from his book, The Big Glow! with soft variable …

~ Army of Light Workers, moving strings in every sphere of our Uni Verse – Unite in LOVE and COMPASSION


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