Roberto J Ribadeneira

Roberto J Ribadeneira Poems

As if you can see the future… lost in what is gone forever.
These old hands, tired of holding a cigarette, tired of mixing a half-made glass of whiskey.
They shake and tremble in low light when I can’t bear it anymore.
The warm air blows in my face with tears burning my eyes, now that I remember her - I always remember her.
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Es ese viento que se ha ido enfriando, en ese instante en que todo lo que era deja de ser y las miradas se vuelven extrañas y todo cambia, es ese instante en que ya no es el anterior, la primara gota de lluvia en topar el piso, el primer aroma de ti, esa primera mirada, esa primera sensación, ese último instante de todo que no sé si se transforma o ya no es nada, o ahora lo es todo…
Miro la noche que deja de ser noche, con ese toque de sol que da paso a la mañana,
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The Best Poem Of Roberto J Ribadeneira

Would You Get To Write Anything? Anything At All?

As if you can see the future… lost in what is gone forever.
These old hands, tired of holding a cigarette, tired of mixing a half-made glass of whiskey. They shake and tremble in low light when I can’t bear it anymore.
The warm air blows in my face with tears burning my eyes, now that I remember her - I always remember her.
The soul is all rotten with a glimpse of fear surrounding me. It’s dark with the moon on the other side of the house lighting the yard just enough to make the grass more greenish than black.
The porch is neat, wood tables with red and green plants surrounding it. I like the sound of the glass when it touches the table. The ashtray is full, don’t know anymore if it is from today or not. I love this old chair, which is confortable, memorable and the only one on this table. I have a bottle with water and lots of ice that goes well with a double black Johnny Walker.
Time does not go back and as we face the end, it comes in handy as we won’t like to be here forever. I don’t see any grandchildren running in the back, no kids that call on Christmas, no sisters or brothers that come to visit, just an old body reaping the memories of everything that I miss right now.
Everything that you didn’t do won’t show in here, every memory that was faked won’t be remembered. The pleasures that were mimicked are not coming to stay.
But still no regrets, just sadness.
And I wish that a little hand will touch my gray hair and play with my glasses and asks me a stupid question of why I smell funny? And I wish I could see those round eyes resemble those of a little kid long gone and that look of admiration as grandpa tell a funny story of when I met her.
She will come with a little pink and white dress that my daughter picked up, she knows I like her in that dress, with those tiny white socks and green/brown shoes. Even when they don’t match at all.
She runs in the yard, with a blond curly hair and those little hands full with dirt. Her chubby cousin chases her with what appears to be a legless lizard. The baby is coming dad –she says, and brings this dark hair prince. Closed eyes and a little grumpy with a touch of his dad’s tough look. You can hold him dad. So I carry the baby like I have done before, mesmerized and humble, touched in disbelief, repulsed by the smell, full with gratitude. Better change the diaper princess. Everybody laughs because they all know I will do it.
The dog sits right next to me, we didn’t go for a walk today, my legs hurt a little and I decided to stay. I have been emptying bottles of bear the whole afternoon until I decided that going up to pee was a hassle. I still have some old Cuban cigars, but they make me dizzy and make it hard to breathe. I like the sound of the insects flying around, digging, jumping… screaming.
We got old my friend, I tell the dog. Which is slow to look up and give me a nod. Time is slow to pass, with holidays taking a toll on everything that I do. People think I hate them, maybe because I say I hate them, but I really don’t.
I don’t say much anymore, I go back and forth with memories of things that never happened. I’m confused about things that I can’t tell if they were real, maybe I choose not to tell. The only truth is this, what I can see and not what I tell myself that I can see.
My oldest grandson is making some grilled ribs, he knows grandpa likes a good BBQ. We can buy the best ribs in town from a friend of mine who’s expertise are ribs and lying to woman. My wife hates him, although she knows he is a charmer and can’t help but enjoy his company. But couple of friends and a sister who felt to his arms are not the best presentation.
I pause to see her talking, her hair is beautiful and got better every year, she has always been a pretty lady. Neat, gorgeous, pure and outspoken. Much too smart for me, with green eyes and tanned skin. To this day I watch her sleep and wonder how someone like her ended up with someone like me? Which really doesn’t matter, we are both happy and she is the one that I would have died for many times, though I am glad that I didn’t have to.
She turns and looks at me, smiles and goes back to her conversation. I make her another drink, soft with green things at the bottom. She is done with the other one already, just hands it to me and takes the new one. She won’t even know that I gave her a new drink, careless and egregious, I wouldn’t her change her for the world.
I feel a touch on my leg, the little princess is crying and looking for grandpa. She fell and wondered if I could take her in my arms. Of course I can. Grandpa! - yes dear, I don’t like the smoke. I put the cigarette away and take her inside.
We don’t have second chances and we are what we are. I can feel the anxiety taking over me, but I then recover knowing that there is nothing that I can do. I escaped from everyone, run from the world and hide inside of me.
The taste still flavors on my tongue, I put just a little bit of water and ice, take a small sip and savor it. My eyes close from time to time, I can’t help it, they take me somewhere else, to a happy place, far from here, when its not dark, when days last forever, where I can scape, not from anyone, where I can run to everything that eluded me, when I can reverse life.
I sit and greet everyone for coming this day. We have grown, got closer, warmer, more beautiful together, even when I don’t like you marrying my daughter… my son says - come on dad don’t be that way – I don’t like that one you marry either, I say – and they all laugh.
I look at my perfect wife and tell her that I have enjoyed every second of my life with her, that the downs - which were many - wouldn’t compare to seeing her every morning by my side.
I see everyone that I love here, the sun bright in the sky, the clouds gone for the day, the warm of the wind carrying the smell of bear and grilled meat, the birthday cards with funny little draws on my lap. I wonder if God made a mistake with so much blessing, but won’t consider doubting his choice.
She still smokes, but no so much. She is still talking, even when I am making this speech about how wonderful everyone is. I look at her and she looks at me. I handled you my heart – I say. I would do it a thousands times. I saved this double black for this occasion. Thanks dad- my youngest son says, why didn’t you save it for my wedding? Because I don’t like that one that you marry. We all laugh.
They bring the cake, which was handpicked by my lovely wife. I go to the kitchen and she follows me. Is everything OK? - She asks.
You don’t know what day it is do you? I put my hand on his head and he moves his tale. We both know that every day is the same. I made ribs my friend. He hears about ribs and gets right up. I slowly go to the kitchen and heat six ribs. Four for me and two for him, but may end up being half and half.
I put a glass of coke with lots of ice, take the BBQ sauce and head outside. There is just you and me buddy – I say. I put three ribs on his plate and take three for me. We both eat slowly.
Half the bottle is long gone and so the whole pack of cigarettes. I take a Cuban and light it up. I usually call this girl - which is expensive – but she sits here for a couple of hours to hear my stories, serves my drink and cleans the ashtray. After she is gone to do some real work, I get the satisfaction that after all, I am able to pay for company.
We are both at the kitchen, I put my hand on her hair and tell her that I love her. She looks at me rolling her eyes up, really? After all these years? She has always been uncomfortable dealing with affection. We hold hands and look outside the window. I kiss her in the lips and say – I don’t think they will last – she punch me in the stomach and shake her head.
We go out and I see the number 65 on top of the cake. I can’t blow the candles if you lie about my age – I say. That little angel runs to me screaming, mommy said that you always lie about how old you are. I know that princess, but shouldn’t buy candles saying that I am that old! ! ! Your older grandpa, mommy say… her mom interrupts just in time… and you come to hold me and whisper in my ear…
I sit back in the chair hoping I could get some sleep, but I rather go down to the floor and give you a hug. You lick my hand and put your head on my leg. You move your head because you hate the smoke. I reach to the table to have another sip, the glass is almost empty, I don’t want it to be empty.
We both fall sleep and I hope this day is over –as we wished for so many years now. It’s the middle of the summer and I can finally scape for a while and imagine what if…
I open my eyes to realize that nothing could ever change and if we could change things this world just won’t be worth it. I may be just happy that we both ended in separate paths, in different worlds, apart from each other. I realize that she deserves better, which in turn comes as a relief… why on earth would she be with me?
I close my eyes and breathe. I know that she is happy, we are all happy. The day is almost over and I get to scape to the sunny day.
… you are really 67 my love, and I don’t like her either.

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