I recommend the blog that Alfonso Aguado Ortuno has in the community of the Pais.com, a blog that has no waste. It consists of three parts which are intermingled (from fuzzy edges). The first two are already completed. The third has yet to an end. When the blog began writing short stories and thoughts in which talks about their feelings about art. All this sprinkled with of one or another of his poems. Andrew Cuomo describes an additional similar source. It highlights the one dedicated to the death of Vicente Ferrer. The second part includes all a ragtag arsenal of poems, drawings, oils etc.
has in his different blogs, both physical and virtual magazines, portals of Internet etc. It emphasizes the poem with a cross, dedicated to Christ, of his poems wound on paper. Almost all the items of this second part have the footnote links or links (links) that lead to the place where they are located on the network. Finally, in the third part (which seems to have had more success) is rising every day poems of terror and fear with late unexpected and disturbing. These poems are narrative, rather than because the author overrides the poetic to the effect of producing a shiver always manages (highlights: the visit).
In this last part he accompanies these stories with the genre paintings. In conclusion: originality, variety. Good work of this versatile artist I follow that and every day I am surprised more. His last collection of poems titled poems from my garden, just published, is having much success. Link to his blog: reproduce this poem: the mirror was gruesome. Everytime I looked in the mirror in the room, he saw a monster dance with raised hands, cried like crazy, scruffy hair, eyes coming out of the orbits. I stopped looking at me for a while. I stopped going to my bedroom and started sleeping in the dining room. A dark entity had seized me and I felt a real stranger in my extravagant House. But one day, fed up with the situation, I irrumpi in the room, I started the stubborn mirror, I threw the balcony and I was dying on the sidewalk surrounded by people in the middle of a puddle of blood. Original author and source of the article