ACA SE HABLA ESPANIOLACA SE HABLA ESPANIOL8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Saborea una Ñ
saboreo una Ñ,
junto mis dientes,
lee mis labios,
una maraÑa de voces en mis eÑes,
reseÑas, contraseÑas, patraÑas maÑaneras,
configurando en sueÑos algo más que un trabalenguas…
(…escudriÑo el maÑana,
te tengo en mi lengua, bola de caÑón
sin pólvora disparas…)
la araÑa debería araÑar por norma libertina,
como engaÑa el engaÑador
y niÑea la niÑa.
con la Ñata contra el vidrio,
pestaÑean mis pestaÑas,
en búsqueda de una aÑadidura
en la historia de mis palabras…
mi letriÑa de copetín,
tan pequeÑa, tan castaÑa,
y tú, extraÑo,
tacaÑas son tus kas;
y esos dos parpados caídos,
¿a quién quieren reformar?
¿cómo aprendo sin enseÑar?
¿cómo voy a extraÑar?
necesito mis eÑes para soÑar;
¿qué será de mis quijotes sin hazaÑas
o mi cuerpo sin entraÑas?
aliÑo mis versos con remembranzas,
excitando su caótica disposición,
aÑadiéndola con empeÑo y pasión,
la decimoséptima taconea,
manifestando a viva voz:
¡acá se habla es
Angel Down -- JDAAngel Down -- JDA11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Dust filled skies coat an October's dusk
A hazy orange moon rises to scare and fright
Withering cobs lay within forgotten husks
Harvest-time abandoned with the coming night
Withering trees outcast a taste of a world grown chill
The tumbled leaves of amber decay on the ground
Oppressive scents of the past on the wind not still
And upon it there begins a loud, keening sound
Darkness emerges fearlessly as the sun finally falls
And the shapes of a black force begins to take wing
Noble and pauper, together. clutching within their walls
As a many-voiced chorus can now be heard to sing
"The evil in your hearts lets us hold sway
We'll take you by night and feed in the day
Poor as a mouse, or wear a kings crown
For we are the lice within angel down"
Black wings beat lazily in the heights far above
The hell-spawn creatures come single or by two
Teeth, growing stained, bring an era without love
And with each new sunfall it is begun anew
Time may pass and the torment come to an end
Peace may come
The PhoenixSeek the phoenix from the pyreThe Phoenix9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of gold plumage and wings of fire
Kneel before her, tell no lies
Heed the omen in her eyes
The crimson tiara upon her head
Her pride and glory to her deathbed
Scarlet, silk tail feathers of jeweled chain
Eyes of ruby and amber, holding no disdain
Her song of joy and grief
Seeps through night's bitter wind
Followed by the surreal cabaret
A tune of melancholy is set
She sympathizes those at mercy
The sick, souls who are needy
Tears shed will mend the pain
Diminish suffering, hope remains
She stages her own funeral
Entombed in her own element
Yet her soul will experience rebirth and renewal
Immortalized in Nature's passing current.
Can I call you my angelCan I call you my angel5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
There are some magical moments in one's life which can't be explained to anyone. They are just felt or experienced.
The magic of someone's hazel eyes when they are looking at you full of desire and love..
The magic of someone's soft lips locking your lips with a passion of unfolding secrets..
The magic of someone's beating heart telling that you rule that place so silently
And the magic of someone's soft voice while hiding in the velvet folds of the blanket in winter nights ..
But none is compared to the magic of snow falling so softly on your dark hair, making you smile so sweetly, pausing every other thing in my whole universe, just to ask you
"Can I call you my angel?"
-Orison--Orison-11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Let there be everlasting light
and as the breath left
her body she was bathed
in warm sunlight
filtering through the
golden canopy above.
Let there be eternal music
and was met with the
fluttering of the butterflies,
the gentle whispering
of the summer breeze and
the melody of a hummingbird.
Let there be enduring peace
and before her very eyes
vines grew up over the trees
without competition, then
a ladybug sat beside her
without fear of being crushed.
Let there be unearthly beauty
and beside her bare feet sat
an exquisite and precious gift –
a pretty child with laughing
eyes and long golden hair…
as the dusty pink gown
swirled around slender legs
and her bare toes danced
through the trickling stream,
she finally understood.
Wings spread, eyes open,
looking upwards as the
flowers fell she knew
she was truly blessed in
the simple joys of life…
WishesWishes12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I don't pray no more. I wish. Daddy says I'm a sinner but I don't care.
Maybe I don't have to care about nothing no more. Even if I did, I don't have the energy.
I'm tired all the time now. And I have to be strong enough to make my wishes.
I throw pennies in the fountain in front of the children's hospital. Not the regular pennies though. Ones I find on the floor. Heads up. Cause that means all day long ill have good luck. That means my wishes might come true.
I say wishes, but I only wish for one thing, really.
I don't pray no more. Momma cries about that sometimes. she thinks I'm a heathen I suppose. Some people say it. Maybe I embarrass her. That's why she cries. When I asked her "If god was real why would he do what he's doin' to me? I always went to church. I was a good boy. What'd I ever do to god?" she cried more. I think it was cause I'm right. But I didn't smile or nothing I just went on over to her and hugged her around the shoulders.
That's what daddy does when she cries.
Hommage a Jacques BrelHommage a Jacques Brel5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Hommage à Jacques Brel.
Ce soir il neige à plein ciel dans mon loin pays
Et j'entends encore de toi ce chant qui dit :
¨Il neige il neige sur Liège
Et tant tourne la neige entre le ciel et Liège
Qu'on ne sait plus s'il neige s'il neige sur Liège
Ou si c'est Liège qui neige vers le ciel
Ce soir ce soir il neige sur mes rêves et sur Liège
Que le fleuve transperce sans bruit ¨
C'était hier encore, c'était un 33 tours,
Un grand vinyle noir et lisse tout autour
Et la hâte de le doucement déballer,
Descendre l'aiguille sur le disque placé.
Et puis laisser ta voix rauque nous emporter
Dans ta poésie de la vie toute étalée.
Remonter avec toi Jacques au pays d'hier,
Ce pays de l'enfance, de terre et d
In Water WritShock and awe word flash hit like a train.In Water Writ11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Text in a shower, on a car
in a collided color-stream,
I don't want to write
the gut-wrench twist
or add a punch into my life: the story.
There is no need to shock and awe,
to scream ladybugs eat babies to girls. Or spew the damaged
remnants of my thought on them. A former love
sits down across from me at dinner, her paper is Entertainment
and I have Business plus the News, same writers, a different twist, the scream
twists at my lip.
I wanted to scream last night
to get the fuck out at those drunks who had invaded my space.
I didn't. I invited them in, I invited my old love to sit down --
I invite everyone. Everyone is involved.
I wish to howl person removing obscenities,
the way I hurled the door open
shouting 'Who is there?'
I wanted to scream: fuck.
I put pen to paper and write
like a sack of wheat on the doorstep of tomorrow.
I continue the
There is a whisper in my brain that I
Waiting for the rainHere,Waiting for the rain10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the earth cracks like unpolished leather.
A woman sits nursing,
(her life drying up like an ancient waterhole)
and dreams of verdant green.
Spring, she reads in an old school book,
is found in lands that have time to blossom,
while she waits for the rain.
TormentedTormented11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In my mind I am suffering
work this place and wait forever
I stab my head and twist it over
My life is squirming
throw a wrench in the works
rending the fabric of my reality
Maximise the nothingness
gap in the existence
I feel everything is gone
Exacting its revenge
the reaper swoops in
slashing through my memory
Killing my thoughts in the dark
I lose my mind to nothing
Ribbons of sinew, all that left in the wake
Lacerate all the devious images
rape; it comes to this mush
all my creative juices plundered
Demoralised and defeated inside
I have nothing left to me
take another piece and leave me
Now the demon comes to its finale
a crescendo rings in its scream
my brain all helter-skelter
It never ends though
always coming for more
end this now, free me
The Laughter of DucksThe Laughter of Ducks9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
fisherman and son
catching nothing but minnows
and the laughter of ducks
Summer's GirlSummer's Girl11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am gathering flowers for my girl.
She waits beneath the cherry tree,
couched among the leaves upon the grass.
Her beauty is no small thing,
and through the shady boughs
Summer's breath turns the twist of her braid.
The sun is sweeping clear the morning,
turning over slowly into midday
before expiring into unseeing darkness.
These garnered blooms still hardy though,
despite the shortened moments of their existence,
they will colour the chestnut hair I love.
In truth, I cannot stem this smile,
this attitude of quiet pleasure;
she has distilled it like music.
I am gathering flowers for my girl.
She waits beneath the cherry tree,
couched among the leaves upon the grass.
ScarsScars6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every scar has a tale
Just waiting to be told
A story of some sort behind it all
That scar on your hand?
Well that was the day we got the cat
But really all I want to know is about the one
Yes that one the one you keep hidden
The one that cannot be seen but is felt
One you say its not as bad as it seems
Give yourself a chance to open up
It'll get brighter if you do
So take that chance to break free
Let everyone know who you are
And what you want to be
a chronicle of early failuresa chronicle of early failures9 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
A normal day, like every other
of waking down and up to nothing
A repeat of images
of puppet strings attached to
of breakfast tables filled with people
chewing but not
"It's better to burn out that to fade away"
that's why a set of matches can be found in my pocket
In case I am tempted...
but I probabily wont
I hope my pen will fail and fall midway through these scribbles
these chickenshit scriptures. Catch phrases that arent so very catchy
the most unsincere expressions of inspiration
The ink tastes far too mundane to hold any
I shouldn't blame the ink
It's probabily just me.
Seven Poems1. I am walking a tightropeSeven Poems9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
between here and forever
to watch you tend roses.
2. I should have slept
before the hurricane.
I was twisting wrought iron
You are so very loved.
3. He made a monument
to sorrow and relief
in the creaking timbers.
With my bare fingers
I felt songs in the elegiac blue.
4. Oh, little savior of Tlaxcala,
I remember your sad eyes.
Spend yourself forward, into the desert:
tomorrow has seen you first.
5. Do you remember the last night?
Streetlights painted slatted stripes
on four naked shoulders
and an endtable.
6. I am afraid of losing you.
that you should go running
gazelle-like, across savannah.
You would write to an empty letterbox.
I would read from far away,
tragedy through a telescope.
7. There is nothing beyond you.
Tongues trill empty air into
sounds thicker than ligaments and bone.
I lie under, watching life float around me.
I traveled without a s
kinetic lustkinetic lust11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Honest drops of Tuesday night
(what few there were)
drained into electric puddles
of coffee and midnight.
Mournful whistles of
. (and coffee pots)
rang teasingly between the walls,
dancing in their own
of lust and touch.
All that humming in the thick
warmth of 12 o'something
was less than love
but more than just the coffee.
. (Black with one sugar. No milk. No exceptions.)
He was only 1.2 feet away from her
but in the barren wasteland of human wanting
he was a canyon and five full city streets
from touching her
Her polite laugh seemed to resound for centuries
through his high towers
of almost-did's and wanted-to's.
This man was
[sad to be losing the only thing he ever wanted more than his next breath. He lived with every mistake he ever made resting in a black shoebox under his empty bed filled with memories of 'her'. Lost in a constant kinesis of longing, hope, need, desire, regret and desperation. This kinetic sad can not go on for
VertigoBrain fills with dizziness,Vertigo12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Come to my senses,
It is impossible.
Drawn to this horrible blurred vision.
I've poured out everything to be straight,
Unsure if it's safe to stop the spinning in my head,
Cracks sliver up and down.
Pain begins to draw in;
Air around me is fading into desperate seizure.
I'm about to fall,
fall into this dark abyss.
Hands seem to be far away,
as I drift into forever silence.
Forgotten by my friends,
without a lending hand to guide me out of this fate.
Still I sit on the top of the Ferris wheel,
going in the same direction.
In this unbalanced world,
I'd never did get anything out of it.
It confuses me with its twisted way,
how I envy people who enjoy the divine life,
Able to feel the perfect balance in their paths.
Dreaming about the suicide that will befall me soon,
Guide this shining arrow to my heart,
End this in one swift blow.
Unless someone pulls me out,
out into the pasture,
Open fields to breathe freely once again,
to feel the sun that shines.
Why I Don't Write HaikuThe thing with haiku -Why I Don't Write Haiku9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
you start with this deep message
and then run out of
Forever Raining Dead PainForever Raining Dead Pain12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
[BAD ENGLISH VERSION]
like black ink
it falls into our souls
and every tear
mark as more
and draw again
our Night inside
a black dawn
where the Hopes fall
falling like snow
falling like tears
and we pray everyday
for our dreams
and we pray everyday
for our hopes
I scream again against the wind
I scream again all my pain
I scream again all my Winter inside
and nobody hears
or nobody wants to hear
And my hopes are dying
into the black river of my tears
inside of me
in the river of my deep pain
And my hopes are crying
my wings will burn into the night
only to bring to you the light
or maybe...only for bring to me the light
because i can't see more into thedarkness
illusions are all around and wait for me
i don't want to fall in this pain
i sing the silence
everyday a new wound
And my wounds are bleeding
blood like diamonds, so intense
light from inside
Empty tears...maybe full...
...full of my pain...
And my death's dying
And my life's burning
I pray everyday for
A driftwood Essayforever and flawlessA driftwood Essay9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
those un-plucked flowers
pressed in poetry volumes
and the ocean.
oddities of memories
as river stones, well rounded
in their patient education;
as punctuated coffee stains,
those discarded sutras
by accidental monks,
who learned calligraphy from
what clever lines
the cipruss roots, embroidered
with lichen 'nd worm trails.
how fertile those monks are now,
as love is recorded
diligently, in chronicles
of a child stomping in
wishful thinkingwishful thinking11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
last time i
was at your house?
you were packing;
we made tea
and didn't talk
you went upstairs
to get a book.
i was idly looking
at our shoes,
on the floor.
i leaned down
and pushed them
so the toes
10 moments of silence10 moments of silence9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
[Ten moments of silence.]
I fell in love with the full,
fluffy heaps of white on sidewalks,
the icicles that clung
to gutters and railings.
My mountains changed;
They're blue and ridged now.
The summers bleed the pavement
like steaming gray socks.
Shade does not offer solace
from moist, viscous air. In the afternoons,
if luck chances by, the humidity lofts
into thick purple clouds
and rain slaps hot pavement.
I can breathe.
The carrot leaves
fell from gold foliage
like drops of sunset.
I closed my eyes and saw twelve wild turkeys
gaggle cross the yard, a doe freeze,
framed by the window, ineffable
bright-lined spiders in the bathtub.
Is it the hoar-frost winters that bring to mind
poetry? There is no Parnassus in Virginia,
only weed-filled fields and roads
that twine like filaments through mountains.
White-blossom dogwood and poison ivy
have me of two minds; Could I have one
without the other, please?
No, no thank-you. I'll come back
some other time.