Lenny Orlando Camacho
Biography of Lenny Orlando Camacho
yes I love pizza... of course I love coffee... and yes I'm into poetry, and poetry is into me...
Lenny Orlando Camacho Poems
This Is What Life Is...
There are so many things I do that I do not want to do There are so many things I want to do that I am not doing
A Backyard Friend
I guava tree, furnished gently by the sun, in summertime this tree had become my fun, my home, my hideaway, my brother, my all: The rippen fruit gave me strength, gave me love.
Eyes To The East
look look closely there's something something you hadn't seen before
Looking through my ersatz drapes beyond the world of flesh and bones beyond the world of love and hate beyond my dreams and hopes
At Night What Is That I Hear Outside?
at night what is that I hear outside? heavy eyelids
Clouds hovering over town just barely above the steeples and the rooftops and the treetops just barely above it all
My world is water two beads of water form my eyes an eye of water is my heart a constant wave of salty motion is my tongue
The Morning Wakes
The morning wakes with a sunny smile, with the giggly song of birds and wind it brings with it; with the smell of oceans and the taste of bread, with a mist of coffee,
A Sad Memory Of Happiness
I reached over for my watch, however, I don't have a watch; I had a watch before, I remember.
The Millstone [revisited]
FEAR is the millstone, and confidence is the grain, that we, willingly, place under the millstone's weight. What if we do? , what if we don't? , we'll never know
Freedom To Love
WHAT is happening with life? What with me? I'm free,
A Mad Knight
Poetry is a smile painted into words eyes described as magical doors lips turned into fountains of love
Most of my childhood memories are a lot of day-dreaming spiced up
Strive For The Sun
The pencil is always calling me;
the words are always forming like a storm;
they push me on to that blank safety
where I can always jump cry be happy and morn;
and all I need is ink paper words
to patch my broken wings
and strive again for the sun
with a little poetry
that, somehow, reforms my soul.