Poems

Y una florUna flor… desnuda, una niña

de ilusiones, desea solo amor…

un beso, una flor.
Ni un beso más

Bésame con el alma. Un solo beso corazón, me mataría. Mi alma se consume impaciente. ¡Pronto!… ¡dame tus labios!… tus divinos ojos. Mujer, en tu abrazo, siento vida. No me mates con tu beso.
Roto

Por qué una mirada… mi corazón siempre esclavo, me hace llorar.
La vida

Esta será noche fría. Será escarmiento de la vida. Las rosas, envejecieron y sepulcro hallaron. Los hombres, nacieron y expiraron. Solo… fueron.

Tu

Ésa seda baja tuya, han de devorar. Unos te visten, y otros te han de desnudar.
Regresa canción de vida

Ya vuelve esperanza. Sopla caliente y muestra poder. Trae tu fiesta, cubre la tierra. Sube y reverdece: el himno de amor, el himno de la esperanza… esperanza.

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Two Years ! ♕

It´s Marian´s Blog anniversary! Two years?! I can´t believe it! I´ve had such great experiences blogging and this is a huge step for me. It´s official now… and this isn´t over yet. There are just zillions of other adventures to happen next!

To commemorate this event, I decided to redesign my blog since now i have more experience at editing and personalizing sites. I´m still on the position of keeping it´s format simple and elegant.

Since it´s a personal blog, It doesn´t really need many categories nor sections in it.

Hope you enjoy the new image!

Have a Nice day, sincerely yours, Mariana ♡

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Es el aniversario de Marian’s Blog ! Dos años ?! No lo puedo creer! He tenido experiencias increíbles siendo blogger y esto es un gran paso para mí. Ahora, es oficial… y esto no ha terminado todavía. Aun hay trillones de otras aventuras por suceder!

Para conmemorar este evento, decidí rediseñar mi blog ya que ahora tengo más experiencia en la edición y personalización de sitios. Todavía estoy en la posición de mantener su formato simple y elegante. Al ser un blog personal, no necesita de  muchas categorías ni secciones.

Espero que disfrutes de la nueva imagen!

Que tengas un gran día, con cariño, Mariana ♡

Watercolors♡ Test #1

 He aqui mi primer doodle (que resulta bien :’D) con acuarela! Es un fanart de la unica e inigualable Isidora Morales! Ella es la creadora de “El Blog de Lupi“. Es runner, tiene una increible imaginacion, unos looks para morirse y el cabello rosado mas amistoso y guay que he visto! Oh! Y hace tatuajes e ilustra de manera subliminal! Isi, te deseo todo el éxito del mundo! 

PD: el dibujo luce mejor en vivo jaja :’D si tengo chance lo voy a escanear!

 

Lookbook #177 en “El Blog de Lupi”

What does the future hold for us?

Tiny crystals hanging from the ceiling, sunrays are striking through them.

Under the chandelier, there’s a messy writer’s desk; a magnificent light, falling

upon the pens and notebook.

My home.

For thirty years I have lived here, in this small town, just outside of

Schenectady, New York. My nieces and nephews used to run around the garden

here when they were young. But time has passed and it’s 1954 and they have

grown and they have their own gardens now. And I am sitting in the fading sun on

a Saturday afternoon, watching the hummingbirds hover above their flowers.

Today, dear cousin Anna, I read that Ellis Island is closing and I thought of

you. Like me you are old now, but you are older than me. It was 1892 when you

crossed the ocean to start a new life here in the United States. You were a small

child and one of the first to cross that border at Ellis Island (“Interactive Tour of Ellis

Island”).

I, too, was a child when I arrived, years later. Please excuse me while I

indulge and remember my own journey…

An old wooden railing, engraved in the ends. A little bed with purple covers,

and a teddy bear on the corner of the room. The place where it all began.

My house.

I remember my 12th birthday perfectly. I recall every word my mother said.

“Iris, he didn’t make it. We need to accept this is happening. It’s

the only way, we ́ll be able to keep living our lives.”

My house held so many memories of that day, of that war, of that life.

And so did Russia…

I knew that going to the United States would be the change and safety we

needed. Blank pages that we would fill with this experience, turning this new

beginning into an old written book; into memories…

My mother could hardly afford the trip. But tickets in hand, my mother, my

brother Kellin, just a little boy, and myself boarded the ship to New York, to a new

life (Canales, G & Hillman-Stolz, S). We traveled for more than week. A storm

caught us off guard, delaying the voyage.

We could hardly breathe in the steerage quarters. I couldn ́t stand it

(Canales, G & Hillman-Stolz, S). Sometimes, when I remember that tiny space, I

picture myself underwater, just the way I did then. I said to myself that I was

holding my breath swimming, but one day, I would resurface again. This way,

instead of thinking about that place, I looked around and pictured fish. Each of

them was of a different color. They created a rainbow, mirrored in my deep eyes,

as if the ocean was inside of me. As if the storm that raged outside, could be found

my heart as well.

“Iris, please promise me that you are going to take care of

your mother and Kellin. The Kharitonov family needs to stick

together today, tomorrow and forever.” (“Ivan Kharitonov”)

The voice of my father, telling me not to give up, giving me strength, giving

me hope. When the tsar, Nicholas II and the whole Romanov family were killed, in

Yekaterinburg on 17 July 1918, two days before my birthday; that’s when my father

was killed. He was a cook for the Romanov family. (“Shooting of the Romanov

family”).

I missed my father.

Every night I hugged my mother and Kellin. It was burning hot with so many

people around us, but I didn ́t care, I didn ́t want to lose any more of my loved

One night, Kellin’s his eyes began itching but we thought nothing of it.

Seasickness, we thought. (“Interactive tour of Ellis Island”)

We finally arrived at Ellis Island. But we still had a long way to go. We got

into a straight line, were told to take off our clothes, and our naked bodies were

examined. We waited. Fearing the worst. After sometime, we were given our

clothes; cleaned and perfectly folded. The lice from the bunks on the boat had

been killed and I was grateful for fresh smelling clothes (Canales, G & Hillman-
Stolz, S.).

Then we went for medical testing, but as we were about to leave, a tall,

white man took Kellin by the hand and marked an “X” in his back with a white chalk

(“Interactive tour of Ellis Island”). My mother burst into tears. I didn ́t know what

was happening. My mother told me that Kellin might have had trachoma, a blinding

infectious eye disease caused by a bacteria (“what is trachoma”). And he might be

sent back to Russia.

It was way too much for me to process. Another line. A short man in uniform

started to ask me questions: Name? Nationality? Age?… then, “Why did you come

to the United states?” I couldn’t answer. I ́d lost all hope, all faith. My father was

gone, I had no home, and Kellin might be returned to Russia.

“Iris.” It was the short officer.

Iris… I love my name. Iris is a tall plant with a purple, white or yellow flowers

(“Iris”). My name means hope, faith, and wisdom. Now, I needed to honor it.

I took my mother ́s hand and held it close to my heart and thought of the

words of my mother and my father. A spark ignited in my eyes, coming directly

from my soul.

Hope.

“Iris!”

“To start again” I answered him. “to hold my destiny close, to embrace my

past, to live my present, to enjoy it and to see what the future holds for me.” The

officer nodded and stamped my documents.

“The only thing I could do, was to let my memory rest, sleep, but never

forget what I had lost” (Armstrong, Billie Joe).

That’s when I saw this handsome little kid with a smile on his face, running

towards us. Kellin. His sleep deprived eyes, still itchy and red.

I held my mother and Kellin tightly. I tried to freeze that moment, to frame it.

It didn ́t matter that we ́d left our house or our country because I knew, that home

was wherever I was with them.

My story reminds me of the old legend about hummingbirds. Did you know,

Ana, that they are the only birds that can fly backwards? I realised then, that I

could too. I could “visit” my past, I could hover and live in this present moment, but

soon I would fly toward my future, in this land where dreams come true…

Un trabajo escrito por Mariana González De Los Ríos

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1) Armstrong, Billie Joe. “Wake me up when September Ends” song lyrics. release

date: 2004

2) Canales, Gaby and Hillman-Stolz, Sarah “Arriving to Ellis Island”, In class

powerpoint presentation: Colegio Monteverde, Mexico City, 2014

3) “Interactive Tour of Ellis Island”. Scholastic Inc, 2014. Web. 10 Dec 2014

4)“Iris” Cambridge Dictionary. Web. Dec, 2014

5) “Ivan Kharitonov”. Famousfix. Web. Dec 2014

6) “Shooting of the Romanov family” wikipedia. Web. Dec 2014

7)!“What is Tracoma” medicinenet. Web. Dec 2014

Strong Deer

I am trying to have a rest, but I feel a big pain i my chest.I can barely close my eyes,this thoughts circle around my head. I just see Honovi,running by the river in her little maroon dress.Everything started last summer; My family and I were in bankrupt,because the parliament taxed our house. My younger twin brothers, Richard and Alexander,joined the army having 7 years old. Alexander as drummer and Richard as message carrier. My dad started to work as a shoemaker and I helped my mother to sew the soldier’s uniforms. My life is not easy.

-Rose! The table is ready!- My mother’s voice pounds in my head, and I just answer in a soft voice -I am going mom!-. I run as quickly as possible to get to the “Big meal” on time. We eat meat and some vegetables,as usual,we used to drink tea but since the parliament taxed it,we do not drink tea anymore. Today I am not in a good mood to eat with my family,so i just have the meal very quickly,I swallow a big chunk of meat and hardly pronounce -Thanks for the meal mother,love you all!- and I go back to my room.
Now I am by the window sitting on the floor,I close my eyes and without noticing I fall asleep. I am seeing things again,what happened last summer,my dad came home and I decided to take a walk. I got to a little prairie and sat there by the river, throwing little rocks and watching them jump, then I observed the flowers that where in the prairie. Pink,yellow red, or even purple. I let my body fell in the soft flowers and rested without sleeping.
Suddenly I heard a branch cracked and without thinking anything else,I opened my eyes and got up,I saw her and we both screamed but after that I just stayed calmed and stretched my hand toward her’s,Without saying anything.But the little girl with feathers in her hair and a maroon leather dress full of little colorful rocks,just stared at me,with those beautiful light brown eyes.
-Who are you?- She told me. -Wow! You speak my language! I am Roseanna Williams,but you can call me Rose- She finally stretched my hand and told me
-Honovi- I kept thinkinhg until I said
-What?- -Honovi,my name is Honovi- she told me a little bit shy -Wow! You have a beautiful name! But, just Honovi? Don’t you have a last name?- Honovi just smiled and told me -Well, I think I do but,I don’t know it,I didn’t know my parents, they left me by this river with a note that had written “Honovi” and a gentle family,who knew your language adopted me and taught me some. I come here everyday since they told me where I came from. Even though my family isn’t Native American,they accepted me! I am sure that we aren’t as different as we think,I have the hope that one day we could stop fighting and start to join together as a big family,and we could keep our traditions, languages,costumes and more! Like me! I live with a different family,but they let me keep lots of things from my own culture.I know that my real family loved me, and if they left me, it was because they couldn’t raise me up” My brain could hardly process what she told me, so I just answered with a
-wow- Ready to article more words, I told her – I will came here tomorrow,I hope to see you here again- And I waved her.But she just waved me back while I left.
After that day, we became best friends. One day we were at the paririe, I just saw Honovi, running by the river in her little Maroon dress,when I heard a gunshot.I screamed to Honovi -Honovi! There are gunshots lets Get away from Here!- But I just saw, Honovi carefully felling to the ground. i started to cry and to shout her name in the air,when a tall white man approached to me,telling me with a cold smile -She Will not bother You anymore- And he left, leaving us behind without carrying about anything.
Aaaahh! I scream,just another nightmare bothering me.When I Remember that I am at my Window, I see the blue sky through it; I Get up And see Rose in the mirror wearing a black dress, In honor of Honovi’s death which was yesterday. Just after the white man shot Honovi, I carried Honovi’s body to her house.Her parents saw me crying,and they started to cry too.Honovi’s father carried her And Honovi’s mother hugged me. Now I am telling my parents about Honovi, but I continue to think: How could we complain for ridiculous And simple things, when there are lots of People who Live worse than us? We are not fighting just against the British, we are Also fighting against Native Americans! We practically spit them in the face And treat them like animals! And if it wasn’t enough, We invaded their home! Yes, the British own us and they taxed almost all,even our properties. But have we thought about the Native Americans? Well, it’s time. We also need to protect them, starting with me. Being Honovi’s friend,made me realize that everything is possible, when you work very hard for it to happen. I have a flashback,I just see Honovi, running by the river in her little maroon dress. But she’s not Honovi anymore, It’s a deer. Moments later I remember what Honovi told me once:
-Honovi has a very special meaning, It means strong deer-. Honovi, I will spread our story all across the big planet earth,I will never forget you, my little strong deer.
Un trabajo escrito por Mariana González De Los Ríos.

Mi Viaje

Si bien, cada “triunfo” me ha llevado un poco más alto, también lo han hecho mis “fracasos”. Estoy convencida, de que hasta lo que podría parecer “el peor de mis errores” tiene en el aquello positivo. Mis logros, me han motivado, a dar un paso más, a escalar más alto. Me han demostrado que sí se puede alcanzar la cumbre. Y mis pasos, en falso, me han ayudado a seguir tratando, con más fuerza cada vez. A levantarme, y por supuesto, nunca darme por vencida. Pronto se cumplirán 15 años. 15 años en los que llevo recorriendo esta aventura. En esta aventura, he logrado dar muchos pasos. Subiendo, y bajando cerritos. De mi ha dependido, el dar los primeros y últimos pasos. El subir por mi propio pie, logrando retos, y proponiéndome nuevos. “Cuando llegas a la cima, la perspectiva cambia”. He logrado mirar hacia atrás y pensar ” Wow, ¿Todo eso?” Sí. Todo eso he recorrido. Lo que ayer parecía un futuro imposible, hoy es solo un pasado que recordar. Son mis deseos puros, y ambiciones directamente de mi corazón, y mente, lo que me han ayudado a alcanzar las cumbres de mis propios cerros. He soñado grande, y logrado cosas grandes. Y estoy segura de que completaré cosas aún mayores. Dando lo mejor de mí, entregándome a mis deseos.

En este viaje he aprendido, que las cosas se tienen que hacer bien y con gusto. He aprendido, que lo que es conforme a nuestra esencia, nos nutre, nos alimenta. Que nunca hay que quedarse con las ganas de nada. Que sin reconocer la existencia del otro, nada es suficiente. Que la victoria más dulce, se vive junto a aquellos quienes te quieren, y a quienes quieres. He aprendido, a tolerar y respetar, y de igual modo a exigir tolerancia y repeto.Soy un pequeño ser en este gran mundo. Los humanos somos seres sociales. Creamos relaciones y vínculos afectivos. Hay que darle lugar a los otros seres a nuestro alrededor. Como lo son los animales, los arboles e incluso, las montañas. Sin esperar hacer conquistas “por fuera sino “por dentro”. He aprendido, que un buen líder es aquel que está dispuesto a escuchar a los demás. Que no exige más a otros que a sí mismo.

En esta aventura, todos necesitamos de todos. Es trabajo en equipo, unidos. Llegar alto, no sirve de nada si no tenemos alguien con quien compartirlo. Me siento bendecida por tener a aquellas personas. Aquellas personas, quienes han confiado en mí, quienes me han ayudado a levantarme de mis caídas, quienes me han dado la fuerza para avanzar un paso más, un paso más cada vez. Mis amigos, mi familia, mi escuela. Son los que me han visto subir. Han conocido, desde mis primeros pasos por mis cerritos, hasta los que llevo hoy. Han visto un crecimiento en mí. Me han apoyado. Esto es lo que llevo en mi gran aventura. Y se, que llegará el día en que brillaré. El día, en el que sentiré maripositas en el estómago, el día  en que mis ojos brillarán más que el sol. El día en el que encontraré mi montaña. Y sabré, cual es el siguiente reto, mi nuevo paso. El día en el que mis pies habrán tocado la cumbre. Pero hasta que ese día llegue, hasta que encuentre mi montaña, seguiré escalando cerritos. Esperare, hasta que llegue el momento. Hasta que esté lista.  “Cuando el alumno está listo, el maestro aparece”. Hay que darle tiempo al tiempo, solo este dará la respuesta. Seguiré buscando mi montaña, y disfrutando el camino hacia ella. Pues, desde ahora, desde antes, mi aventura ha comenzado. No es un destino, o un fin, sino un medio, un viaje. Mi gran viaje.

Un trabajo escrito por Mariana González De Los Ríos.

Inspirado en la conferencia de Karla Wheelock “Cada quien puede conquistar su propia montaña”

Carrying Away ❈

She was there. Darkness filled the stage.The crowd stood silent, watching her careful movements. A magnificent light, fell upon her turquoise costume, soft and smooth as feathers. Her feet were as light as air, creating graceful patterns along with her wings, the perfect synchrony. Gravity was useless, she’d left the ground behind. She felt weightless. The crowd vanished as well as the background melody, now I was alone dancing to my own. Just me and my feet, carrying away…