Crops of Madrid: Emiliano Heredia Jurado

Poet in the field of the world

Hola, qué tal.
My name is Emiliano, but my friend, the editor, insists on calling me: Cropper Poet. What is that? if I studied architecture.

The seeds of love

by the author and of his narrative harvest, in which I decide to insert considered definitions of character, to show that the superpower of my guest is to cultivate love in the fields of the world.

From original: Superpower , de 21 de Marzo 2018 ©H.H.J.


WHAT SUPER POWER DO I HAVE? MMM …… NONE. Really, can you say that I have any overlap? I only have, like everyone else, qualities, some more developed than others, and with the consequent defects. What would stand out more in the qualities that I have? Patience.

“In an oversight, this afternoon,

the bush of loneliness, in me,

he has gone to engage, silent, cowardly.

The fallen, lying leaves,

they were pages of past stories,

of words never spoken,

of innocent wishes and illusions.

(extract-13 de Enero 2020)


Over time, due to various vicissitudes and experiences, I have become a good spectator of the life that surrounds me. Of course, when I lose my temper, I shout to the four winds and I shit in San Pito Pato, like everyone else; yes, to take me to that extreme, they have to touch my feelings sooo much because I am immutable as an English soldier at Buckingham Palace.

Time breathes me exhale dreams,

my life, now calm, steps, sure.

This atmosphere embraces heaven,

all the all, peace, that caresses.

(extract- 20 octubre 2019)


People often tell me that I have a special power when I smile, especially when I am going through or facing a bad situation or moment. Really, if something is wrong, I try not to get worse, regretting it. I am not one of those who stay lying on the ground lamenting that they have fallen.

“The lies, they do not hurt,

your fire does not burn me,

and the embers of your bonfire is already asleep.

“Enough of hateful hatred

I just want to breathe in this lonely atmosphere,

live only the obvious. “

( extract- 7 de Mayo 2019)


I wake up with the best smile, for two reasons: One, to show the one who has thrown me, that I can get up. Two, to prove to myself that I can get up.

“It will be yesterday from now,

Or the after before, laughed what cries today,

it will silence waning words.

Gambadoes on one leg, one, two, three,

somersault, wind vane slave turn,

Let whoever understands it say it.

( extract- 06/02/2019)


Come on, after all the times that they have thrown me and I have fallen, and they will be able to with me… .. HA !. Honestly: I like to be humble, or to flaunt anything material.

“The hours fall withered of this lonely tree that is my soul,

abandoned in this, nothing that slumbers,

and, more and more, the flame goes out.

if i could i would make a rope with my sighs to escape

through the window that will give hope,

and leave this loneliness to its own devices “

(extract- 11/01/2019)


I wear a half-scrapped five-euro watch, from the Chinese Store, which gives me the same time as the most expensive of the most expensive jewelry.

I have found in the storage room of my soul,

my illusions in a secluded corner, like old armchairs,

protecting yourself from dust that causes oblivion,

with souvenir sheet of a yesterday already lived.

Cold embers at the stake that the fireplace lit up any given day …

… In which I found heat. I’ve opened the windows

if you move before, now, sonorous, singing

and telling, smell of the sea, smell of waves. “

( extract- 23 Abril 2019)


I ride my bike everywhere, not because I don’t know how to drive, but because I like to enjoy life on the street, enjoy its smells, its people, its streets, its countryside, its everything.

This rain, so gentle,

that glides in the air like a slide,

laugh in the flooded land.

This rain, which carries me

away of his wet hand,

for a opalescent sunset of ash-colored hair.

( extract- 20 octubre 2019)


What if I have an overlap? Not. No. Never.

“From so much that you waited,

disarmed the arrows of his old watch,

motionless, still.

Shrank the hope and,

spun on a spinning wheel of forgetfulness

a thread fine of patience. “

( extracto- 22 de noviembre 2019)


Absolutely not. I am what I am.

“Long way woven with the yarn of the skein

of a go without return towards something unsuspecting.

I wrap it for you on colored paper if you want,

but love I, I…. I’m not coming back. “

( extract- 3 de Enero 2020)

Rating: 1 out of 5.

A Website.