Articles written by Alvaro Ramos

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About me - Alvaro Ramos

I am above all a teacher. I currently teach AP Spanish Literature and AP Spanish Language at a magnet high school in Dallas, Texas. I am an avid reader and although my area of expertise is Latin American literature, I enjoy a wide variety of authors and genres.

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Creative Writing > Songs Songs: Morning coffee: 4 of 67
It's dark outside,it's quiet and it's cold.The brand new dayis just a few hours old.Might be another bad one.Lord knowsI've had a few of those. I'm quiet too,and I move around softly.I sort my thoughtsand shake the tough ones off me.I wash out a cupand pour inmy morning coffee. It steadies my hand, to raise up the cup,It ease... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Dark stories: 54 of 662
A story inspired by the late Juan Rulfo's Pedro Pramoand a bad dream.1At a rundown shopping center, tucked between the Queen of Sheba Restaurant and Videos en Espanol is a well-ordered, busy little newsstand. Outside the newsstand and high above its dirty, cracked sidewalk is a sign with the unimaginative "News" in big, green... More..
Arts & Humanities > Spanish Language Understanding the Hispanic Culture involves more than learning Spanish: 1 of 10
A good way to gain insight or better understand a particular cultural group, is to learn the language the group uses. Language is intrinsically embedded with the customs, traditions, and mores of the group that uses it. There is no denying the value of learning a target language to better understand a target culture. However,... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Love expressed: 96 of 722
Is it in my eyesthat you see reflectedthe sweet and tender sparkof life's content and quiet moments?Is it in my handsthat you feel the warm pulse,of a beating, countingmachine that measures your happiness?Is it in my soulthat searching as you canin the barest corners,you find objects familiar and worn?For many times my lipsha... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The jungle: 6 of 40
The day my little boy was killed, when his precious, youthful blood was spilled, lost, I retreated into the jungle. I heard voices cry, beg and plea and ask God why? However for me, there could truly, only be the jungle. Reason and logic, there decreased; no longer did restraint or peace exist, in my heart or in the jungle. W... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: When it rains: 28 of 184
When it rainsI feel closer to youbecause the color graysurrounding me, forms small dropletsby the millions, colors my emotion , andreminds me of your eyes.When it rainsa chair by my windowsomehow asks about you,not understanding anyonecan occupy the place that foolishly, Ichoose to reserve for you.When it rainsa special kind ... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Far away: 30 of 187
Far from here, a child smiles. A warm dog stretches at his master's feet. An exhausted man breathes in the vision of a task complete. Far from here, a flower blooms, home at last, a lost soldier finds his way, slowly, a burning sun sets to end a glistening summer's day. Far from here, warm bread cools; a restless mind now com... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Mistaken identity: 18 of 82
I thought I saw you the other day,you were looking at a window display.You twisted a curly, black lock 'round your finger,carefully I walked closer and watched you linger.I thought I saw you, for that raven mane,in its glorious messiness seemed so much the same: as the mane I once bathed my face in; as the mane whose smell ma... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Another new year: 2 of 6
Tone is "the" regular customer at the Fiesta Bar. Much like the slow retreat of the day's dusty heat, a person in Murphy, Texas, can count on the fact that between the hours of 6:00 and midnight, Tone will be at the Fiesta, five stools from the register and one from the wall. In front of him, will no doubt be a mug of beer, a... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Urban scenes: 13 of 37
Houston,you once took a boy inwho knew nothing;and drawing himin you showed himthat many would know youby different names,but hewould forever,know youas Houston.You showed himthat in your asphalt armsthe world's workerscould come and dream,but eventually must waketo grind out a grueling compromisein your salty, rustedshopping... More..