JIMENA RAMOS YENGLE

Author Feature - July 2021

My name is Jimena Sofia Ramos Yengle. I am Peruvian and I was born on December 14, 2001, so I am 19 years old.

Since I was little I have dedicated myself to art. I started painting at 4 years old and at 6 I exhibited my first work publicly. From the age of 12 I began to dedicate myself to music.

At the age of 14 I published my blog "Magical Manuscripts" in which I address different topics related to the human experience, part of my personal brand "Magical Maneuvers". At the age of 19 I published my first book, a romantic novel called "Roma Enamorada" which is available on Amazon.

I also have an active YouTube channel where I upload content related to cultural events, interviews, covers and original songs.

I am currently pursuing two professional careers "Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation" and "Psychology." In addition, I am in an Actoral Training school, studying Performing Arts.

It takes an old spasm 

To keep seeing the skies, 

That lack flaw, 

They hint at a favorite kiss 

His countenance clears 

In front of my only shelf 

Drag clouds in its path 

And I'm wishing for a pacemaker 

The inherence in his nature Is not enough in his head 

His balcony collapses 

Enerve pressure from the overhead 

Wants more angel books 

And the truth of those who sing A scarlet present 

Know that you need a postscript 

Time to time was coming 

What remains and is rewritten The passion for who I paint A better gift overwhelmed

DEAR MIRROR 

That gives proof of the liberated suffering 

Conscious aesthetic delight 

Stranger to the ascetic spirit 

Expression absent in misery 

Innate beauty that reflects my structure 

Figurative art worthy of being true 

My face wanders beyond the fateful becoming 

Make up the elemental soul 

The brevity of youth 

Worthy is my being to love 

And my creator, his wishes to liberate 

I met the Parisian who compromised the doubt That immoral sage I wish to see my impure conscience My susceptibility was found in raw meat 

I outline my naked soul with ink 

I succumbed to pleasure dress 

"As much as I want, I can do it" 

Holding on to all that would come 

I ignited the development of my ideology 

Due to pleasure 

So I don't have to fear my portrait 

Meanwhile be generous deed 

Only my smile will value

I thought I loved that personification But I don't understand love 

So material, so earthly 

Unless it comes from the local theater 

Waiting for hedonistic signs 

My science is the sustenance of pleasure If something I treasure is my smile That brings affability to shreds 

My veins are roads 

No meeting point , no finishing 

I am drowned by the elegant whirlwind I march between continuous delights 

My experience, foreign to the matrix I cry out for shame 

And seeing his absence in my soul I sensed the inconsistency 

One more time in front of the mirror I contemplate the elegant being 

Understood narcissism 

That I am unable to recognize 

Perhaps my voluntary seduction, 

Does it adorn simple and catastrophic faith? My hidden soul , share a room 

With my only need, maybe a little reason

The interference of my beauty 

I blur my humanity 

Can't I long for more? 

Existential paradox 

I question the existence of a creational mold That perfects each season as it passes I notice that this vile sculpture 

Occasion more than the original figure 

Accept the surrender of my soul 

And whoever wants to assimilate to courage Candid beats I can't find 

Self-awareness lost its power 

I wish spiritual surrender 

May my firmness reach noble ecstasy Live the just, ephemeral and outdated That the wicked years stole 

Now I know that I prefer love 

Lived and destroyed 

Before the immanence of death 

Aestheticism, it is my inert face

Your footprints are marking a story

That does not collapse before the wind

You are neither logical nor sane

Precipitated, and I lose myself 

Silent door, you don't knock 

Try to uncover the old glories 

Without poisoning the present 

You are already quite absent 

You tend to infinity 

Incredulous and suspicious written

They run claps of a song 

Crippling bandolier in my heart 

And if you feel that I am inspired by more

Your relic, it's lustral delirium 

Do not think to neglect mental alienation

You meditate rudely on the threshold

My alternative lyric 
It houses the song of sovereignty 

Armored letters on a carousel 
Letters waiting for you! reader of the month 

Talking about you is discussing oil 

Classic natural emporium 
You lighten artificial dexterity 

Immense soul, babel rosebush 

I place a blue cardboard bouquet

A pencil that I just made 

A notebook written in Spanish 

And that candle, I sure was your smell 

You lighten the scarlet 

You transform the bittersweet into cream 

You keep the May sun alive 

And I miss you, such a longed-for dream

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