Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Witness

The witness

 Everyday, at seven in the morning Mr. Brown takes a plastic chair

that one day was white and plunk it in front of his house. 

He watches the neighbors going to work, to school, to shop, to drink.

They go singing, fighting, running, spiting, smoking, swearing, dreaming.

Mr. Brown says hello to everybody. Now and then he gets into his house

to get a soda, he comes back quickly to see a wife  who is running in distress

a man who returns drunk to his house a dog that gets stoned by a horde of children.

Mr. Brown never says more than “hello,” he may disapprove, he may support

nobody knows, he just watches. If somebody looks at him he barely smiles and says nothing.

Mr. Brown is fifty three years old, he has been disabled for the past twelve years

and he became a witness of humanity ever since. Mr. Brown knows all the secrets of the

people but nobody knows his.

At noon, Mr. Brown disappears inside his house eats crackers with honey and returns to his

post. As a witness he never misses the action around his eyes.

He knows all the faces, voices and mysteries of the neighborhood.

After a short recess for dinner Mr. Brown vigil the street until twelve o’clock,

then, he takes his plastic chair inside the room he calls his house where he

keeps his chair, a bed and his thoughts.

When there is a crime in Mr. Brown’s block the police and the journalists

don’t bother to ask him anything, he never sees a fly, he hears nothing.

Everybody knows he is a witness but people say he is a witness of God.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

My list of things to do.

Thing to do today

- Find happiness
- Search for an immaculate sweetheart
- Wash my cloths
- Write a remarkable novel
- Appointment with the dentist
- Stop watching TV
- Organize my closet

So many things to do so little time, but
at least I prioritized my list as the experts recommend.
However I must begin with the cloths,
all of them are dirty and I need a clean shirt for the dentist.
The happiness can wait. I have put it off for
43 years, it can wait one more day.

The same is for the sweetheart
but the appointment with the dentist is easy
I just need to go and I’ll get that off my list.
For the novel I need to buy paper first,
I’ll write it in my list for tomorrow.

I would organize my closet but I want
to watch what happen to the stupid Lucy.
As soon as the series finish I’ll have time
to organize not just the closet but my life.

I’m doing two things of seven.
Not bad! Yesterday I only finish one of six.
The experts recommend not trying to accomplish
everything in one day. It may be frustrating.
I think I’m in the right path to fix my life.

Friday, September 30, 2011

#11 Joy for Our Grandparents, Stories for the Grandchildren

 Joy for Our Grandparents, Stories for the Grandchildren

Level: All
Instructor: Carlos Ponce
As our parents, grandparents, and other family members age, their stories disappear forever with them. Alzheimer’s disease, depression and other cognitive impairments can affect our loved one’s mind. For elderly people, it’s rewarding when younger people show interest in their life. Besides, the new generations benefit from a wealth of experiences: heroic events, humorous situations, ethnic knowledge and interesting anecdotes. Many times older adults don’t tell their stories, or they only tell a few, and their relatives think they have heard them all. This is a big mistake. We’ll explore how to develop a plan of conversation with our elderly relatives in a way that is stimulating for them and will produce valuable family information for us. We’ll conduct interviews among the class participants to practice how to carry out sessions with our loved ones, and talk about how to make a family history document for future generations. (Spanish-friendly class).
Date: Saturday, October 15, 10am-3pm
(1-hour lunch break)
Limit: 15 Participants
Registration Deadline: Wednesday, October 12
Teachers CPE Credits: 4 Language Arts
Fee: $70 Discounted Fee: $60

(If you’re paying online via PayPal, the $10 Shipping & Handling fee is our standard registration fee.)
About the instructors:

Carlos Ponce worked for 11 years for the Health Science Center at San Antonio as a social researcher. He became interested in the stories of elders while conducting interviews for the UTHSC and used several of these conversations as the base of his collection of short stories Platicas de Mi Barrio. He’s published two children’s books, several short stories and poems in English and Spanish. He has taught creative writing to elders in community centers and to adolescents. He became interested in people with Alzheimer’s and dementia because some of his family members developed these conditions.


Thursday, September 01, 2011


Las suculentas palabras salían de su intensa boca el día en que decidí dejarla por empalagosa.

Friday, August 12, 2011


Attention Deficit with Hyperactivity Disorder

                                                  I’m going to clean my desk
                                                                          and buy groceries for the week,              and              but a letter appears and
                                                                                          I got to answer it. Then, a bill that I should have paid last month.
         Looking for a pen, what about the check book?  it
                        sends me                                                             to the other room
 I realize                                                 that I should put
                                                                                                 my cloths away,
           I’ll make a turkey sandwich to ease my hunger                                                       then I notice 
              that some of my cloths
                                                                          have to be washed.                    As I walk to the
                             laundry room
         I remember that I had planned
                                                                       to clean my desk today
                                           so I can begin to write my novel
                  I have a lot of things    , oh my! I forgot to close the refrigerator
                                                        to do…  but I don’t know
                          where to begin
                                              I lost my list.
                                                                    I read
                        a book about prioritizing and took two
                                                                                 classes about time        management.
      I feel exhausted and
                                             I have not done, no anything that
                                                                          I wanted to do for today, for                      yesterday, for my life
                  I want to cry
                                   I don’t know why I can’t do the things
                                                                            that I want to do
     How other people         do ten things while I do half of one?
    Where should I start?                               This is crazy. Ok! No panic,                                          I’m going to star all over again.
                                                First I need a piece of paper,
or should I begin with
                                     my cloths?

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Helping God


People who plant a seed or a tree

assist nature to reproduce the mystery of life

for no other purpose than to slightly

expand the beauty of the earth.

Gardens are spirit-inspired creations,

as ancient and disseminated as humankind. 

Gardens are manifestations of souls

that yearn for the sensual love of nature.

A garden is a parcel that reproduces the joy of life

It doesn’t matter if it’s a plant in a can

on the window of a dilapidated apartment


a pristine yard of a castle, both are

landscapes borne by the desire to breed beauty.

Gardens are the goods of humans and nature

working with magical colors, forms and fragrances. 

Gardens flourish when people play at being creators

and, while playing, become part of god.  

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Coffee anybody?

Her coffee.

Here she is

With her bright, broad smile

All the time.

What a treat

Just like her coffee

If she smiles I don’t need sugar.

I read,

She brings the aromatic caffeine

I like the smell, I like her fragrance.

I like coffee

I like coffee with sugar

I like coffee with her.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

A cactus with thorns.

I like coffee, I like friends, I like coffee with friends; hold the sugar.
Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m too afraid.
I like forests, beaches and walking. I like drinking wine and chatting about god and paella. What I don’t like is writing about things that I don’t like.

Friday, May 13, 2011

About God

How does God feel?
He lives in perpetual happiness; he doesn’t know limits, worries. He knows the future and the past, in other words he doesn’t know what is time. He also is ignorant of fear and frustration, he lacks curiosity because he knows everything but he lacks friends because there is nobody like him. 

Sunday, March 13, 2011


If you spend an hour a day traveling by car in a metropolitan area you probably spend an average of twenty minutes in front of a red light. It means that you consume 7300 minutes a year or 121 hours, or 5 days of the year waiting for a green light. That’s a lot, especially for people who live the busy existence of a big city. Image what could you do with 5 extra days in your year; catch up sleep, read great books, play golf, tennis, take a nice vacation to the beach.

Anyway, this is the reason of my poem Red Lights.

Red lights

In front of a red light – for the thousandth time –
I’m sensing that life is a chain of waitings.

Waiting to grow up, waiting to graduate, waiting for a good job
Waiting for her, waiting to retire, waiting for god.

I’m permanently waiting in a loop of waitings until I don’t remember
What am I waiting for.

Always waiting for something or someone
I ignore stars, overlook smiles and devour time dreaming of rainbows.

Living in virtual stupor I suppose I’m waiting to die
And then the light turns green…

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Short story


The most important thing in my life is grammar and I hate it. I wasn’t good at grammar at school but I had to learn it. It was twenty-two years ago that I learned the rules of syntaxes, morphology, periods, structure and other tedious stuff. Since then my life has been a hell. Spelling, adjectives, vowels, prepositions, commas and many other grammar subjects don't let me rest. I try to enjoy a movie and grammar rules keep coming to my head telling me that the detective is using poor syntaxes. When I'm talking to a friend grammar appears again and indicates me that my friend is misusing words. The same happens when I'm reading a novel, the newspaper, watching television or hearing the radio.

The worst part is when I'm making love. Like yesterday when my girlfriend told me: “Love me forever, love me to much times.” I know that she was in the middle of a passionate moment but ‘much times’? Give me a break. But the most terrible part was when I stopped kissing her and I told her the grave grammatical mistake she had made. Instead of thanking me for the correction she become furious and threw me out of the bedroom! But what can I do? If Karen makes a grammar blunder I'm turned off immediately. Last month she told me: “Your eyes make me crazy.” I became incensed and yelled a few incorrect sentences to her. She didn’t care that I made so many mistakes, and that made me even more upset. Then I called her illiterate, plain, grammatical blooper and other strong adjectives. She got my point and we had a terrible fight. My girlfriend gave me an ultimatum: “get professional help or I don’t want to see you again.” I went to see a psychiatrist. Unfortunately the poor doctor speaks English as a horse; I just couldn't take him seriously. “You may be suffering grammatical stress” – he told me, he wanted to put me on Prozac. Yeah right, I’ll take Prozac if he goes back to remedial English in a community college. Now I want my Karen to see a grammar coach but she refuses, I think we are at a breaking point.

I don't blame my girlfriend. I know I have to change, I know grammar is not the most important thing in this life but I can't help, my brain is a grammar program. Maybe I should go to live in a desert island where I don't have anything to read or voices to hear. The problem is that I'm not a rich person, I don't have a way to support myself without working, and I’m just a poor editor.