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Best Brazilian Poems

Below are the all-time best Brazilian poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Brazilian poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Brazilian Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Brazilian poems are below this new poems list.

Brazilian cut by Jetaime, Agatha
Brazilian Soccer by dailey, mike
Brazilian Wax by dailey, mike
Brazilian Boy by Quinney, Kenneth
Brazilian Woman by Restrepo, Luis

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The Best Brazilian Poems

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

HER SOFT CANAL



The powder of white sand holds her flesh close to his musk pelvis as she gasps with the murmured waves trembling on the coast of a fragrant mouth against a manly tongue, and they lay on hidden grass in an old Ipanema cove where rippling strokes fondle the east and north of her sylph-like curves: amidst the liquid Brazilian dusk, her flowing hair sinks from the lapping of crest in rhythmic grinds; tanned fingers exploring a soft canal of a nymph's heightened pleasure… by the sea- bend, he pulls her creamy thighs like a driftwood sailing afloat upon each quivered abandon while they melt under balmy trees… without the need to speak. Kelly Deschler's Women Only #2 11/23/2014 by nette onclaud

More great poems below...


Details | Brazilian Poem | |

A Piece Of The Pie

This was only our second date... A Black Tie Affair... ...Set against an incredible view, vineyards, waterfalls, a plentitude of flower beds, all just outside a charming postcard Town. This indeed was a serious event, anyone  who was anyone... and my date...were here. A live Jazz Band filled the air with a symphony of soothing sounds we all took our seats as  The Annual Fine Pie Tasting Festival began. My first nibble was an Orange  Blossom Grand Marnier Silk Pie. I cleansed my palate with a sixty seven French Beaujolais   took my tiny fork and partook of a slice of heaven. The pie had a fine bouquet with a peach raspberry scent. It was a nice blend, moist, with a fragrant overtone of fermented grapes... my date, well, my date just porked down her first slice... ...in one swallow. Her comment? ..."Yeah, yummy" and added "can I have some more wine, and fill the glass up this time, Mr. Stingy" Ah the wonderful charm of youth (...luckily no one heard her.) Now came the second offering a Vienna Chocolate Lace Kaluha Pie. My date grabbed three slices complaining about the size. Charming! (...Thank God no one saw. I enjoy my ranking in this exclusive social group) If she asks for more wine I'm going to hand her the bottle  tell her to swig that. The next offering is a Dulche De Leche Italian Rum Pie I dread the thought she might try to wring a slice in order to squeeze out the Rum. All is well, she has wolfed down her serving before the thought occurs to her. Imagine my surprise? I order a third bottle of wine. There is not a drop left in our second bottle, not a drop. Can you wring a glass bottle?  I doubt I have had a full ounce of wine yet. At eleven hundred dollars a bottle I start to question my taste... .....................................in.... .......women. My stunning date excuses herself. With all that wine I am surprised she has waited this long. She is wearing a gorgeous gown... "you can put lipstick on a pig..." "shit! did I just say that out loud" The  night continued... pie after pie more and more wine. The pie slices are small the bill will be HUGE! ...but ah the pies... Sweet Lime Tequila Mouse Pie Vanilla Bourbon Brazilian Pecan Pie Irish Cream Island Coconut Mouse Pie Lady Godiva Truffle Raspberry Liqueur Pie to name a few. Pie tasting? A refined activity  of the gourmet connoisseur. My disaster of a date has returned, (God she's beautiful!) "So Scrooge" she says "are you ready to leave" I am so embarrassed she is crass and rude in front of all these distinguished people. "Come on, I'm bored with this crowd of stiffs. Let's blow this Popsicle Stand," she says " They all have pickles up their asses" Well I never. ( Popsicle Stand? Just how young is she?) She continues "Honey, it is time to go back to your place for the best piece of pie you have ever had." At this point my twenty five year old goddess is more beautiful than any woman any marvel I have ever viewed... her words immaculate... ....You don't have to hit me over the head with a hammer.  ...Personally I was fed up of  all these stiffs with pickles up their ass. I think I gave some sort of dignitary the finger on the way out... ...I was excited. I have never driven so fast in my life. Finally I was going to get my piece of the pie.
16~10~2014 Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper Contest Name: Plentitude of Pies

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Tea Party

Lies glamour gossip and Earl Grey tea 
turbulent tales boiling in China cups 
elegant sacraments of blue-haired ladies 
pinkies stuck up in the air, hiding their 
anger or boredom or feeling their own 
despair.

Crimson glass roses feathers and jewels 
crowned with wide-brim hats, trimmed
gloves, lace fans and perhaps some pearls 
are appealing to these extravagant, fast
and proper old girls

The guild does not approve of
          cola,
             tortilla chips or
                piercings of the tongue.

Invitation is by Tea Bag only. merely 
a device to project the status of a 
proper and affluent wife.
Shaved legs polished nails and GiGi’s 
Brazilian waxing will enliven you as a 
part of the crowd, but may be a little 
bit taxing.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

THE RIVER OF DOUBT

Bold is the heart of the adventure, seekers of the undiscovered
Frontiers beyond the realm of mankind’s knowledge.  Hardy, bulling
Figures the unafraid, the uninitiated these spirited wilderness men.
Of epic proportions whom challenge fate, and defy death itself.
Railing against its white rapids of the unknown. 
Hailing their indifference by yelling at the top of their lungs,
We will not surrender until the ending of our final journey,
Has come and consumes us utterly, leaving nothing left
But footnotes at the bottom of historical records dusty pages
Behind as our only existing legacy.
The great serpent snake of the Amazon, crawls through the open
Belly wound of the Brazilian rainforest, splitting the devils dark
Jungle in half, a beckoning demon calling unto the heart
 Of the adventurer come explore me if you so dare.
Adversities freedom stalkers, heeded this challenge,
Grappling at the serpents tributaries rattling tail, biting
And spitting at them, with sufferage's malice, the reptile
Of aquatic distain, cost many lives of the innocent in its
Vengeance aftermath.
In this river of doubt called the Rio da Duvida, 
This vipers poison travels fast through the veins of mortal
Men, starvation, Malaria and the mistrust of others destroys
The flesh from within and from without.
 Leaving spiritual wounds that will never heal no matter the
Strength of one’s faith, or the endurance of the individual 
Whom survives the attack of this snake called
The mighty Amazon River.
Three adventures made it through this black jungle of death,
Theodore Roosevelt’s, his son Kermit, and the leader
Of this historical group Mr. Rodon.
After reading about their story of bravery, I the author
Of this tail have one thing to say in their memory, bully
Gentlemen, and on wards unto your next journey’s adventure,
And may its endings final current find you well at the end.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN








Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Brazilian Soccer

A former goalie in prison for life
For feeding his dogs parts of his dead wife
Was granted a work-release to play soccer again
For the Brazilian pro soccer team needing a win

More great poems below...


Details | Brazilian Poem | |

I Remember Standing in the Emerald Green Jungle

I remember standing in the emerald green jungle with screeching monkeys swinging and dancing on tree limbs. Colorful parrots of reds, blues, greens and yellows watched me silently, suspiciously, as if a gold toothed conquistador. Beautiful flowers grew wild and free, like the ones in the hair of young girls on Sunday mornings down there, with red dusty bare feet and honest smiles. The roar of the gigantic falls reverberating across the gorge, thundered as a cranky old lion bothered by flies. The chilly Brazilian night left us shivering under llama wool blankets, warmed by dry red wine, sustained by thick bread and rich cheese. On my strolls through the bush I must have been like Fawcett in search of some place or something like Z. Whatever that may have been?


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Details | Brazilian Poem | |

A Very Early Memory .

My earliest memory was the Mid-Wife
 And her strong , safe forceful grip .
 And Dad's big frown
 In his surgical gown
 Saying "don't let my baby slip .
 Lord ! , he's pink and bald and ugly
 Hey Mom ! , here's your nine month dream
 He's the perfect mix 
 For politics
 'Cause he sure knows how to scream " .
 They all ooh'd and aah'd and choochy cooed
 Saying yeah, he's one in a million
 As I looked in bother
 And asked , hey mother
 So tell me ! , what's a brazilian ? .


Inspired by Danielle White's early memory contest ..

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

UFC

Where modern Gladiators go to collide
Like solders in prison these warriors ride

Mono el mono this is how they believe
No smoking mirrors or tricks up their sleeve

Guillotine, arm bars and rear naked chokes
Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu certainly isn’t no joke

Royce Gracie changed Mixed Martial Arts
“The Natural” Randy Couture, man what a heart!

Many men have risen and many have fell
To the powerful striking of Chuck Liddell

Ken Shamrock is a warrior who deserves his fame
At UFC 100 Mark Coleman proved he still has game

Big time wrestler Brock Lesnar proved he is no joke
As Anderson Silva continues making fools out of folk

Lyoto Machida is now a champion again
Along with the true Prodigy B.J. Penn

Who is my favorite fighter in the UFC
Without any doubt that would be GSP  


Written for Matt's Contest
Started within 30 seconds
written in about 30 minutes
(I had to look up how to
spell a lot of the words)
Actual writing time was about
5 minutes
In Honor Of Georges St.Pierre 
Excellent fighting skills

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

No Arachnophobia Here

I have always loved spiders
The basement in our house
was loaded with spider webs
They became our pet spiders
We captured insects to feed them;
bees, dragonflies, you name it
Throw them in the web,
two legs appear, then a quick rush
A frightening yet thrilling sight to behold
Once we put a bumblebee in a web
The battle lasted over half an hour
The enormous spider eventually won

You can ‘trick’ a spider
by tugging and gently jiggling its web

Most spiders help our environment
and are beneficial creatures
Ever see a garden spider?
A beautiful sight to behold…

The largest spider in the world
Is the Goliath Tarantula,
which makes its home
in the jungles of South America
Over a foot in diameter
It dines on mice and small birds

The most venomous spider in the world
Is the Brazilian Wandering Spider

The southern Brown Recluse
causes unique damage to those bitten
If left untreated, it eats away flesh
VERY painful, often requiring major surgery…
 



Details | Brazilian Poem | |

When Only the Best Will Do

A former goalie in prison for life
For feeding his dogs parts of his dead wife
Was granted a work-release to play soccer again
For the Brazilian pro soccer team needing a win

another news brief from your Uncle Mike

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

On Silly Childish Stickers

I scribbled quickly
As they wrote their final exam
Little notes of appreciation
A special individualized message
Thanking each student
For having been in my class
And for bringing me joy
Reminding each one
Of the potential that lies within
For each is a remarkable individual
A personalized message
Of encouragement
And a shared Bible verse
Psalm 37: 4

This was a special class
Made up of pastors
A journalist 
An architect
Adults from different walks of life
Some married
Others single
Some shy
Others bold
All wanting to become
Better writers 
What an amazing group
My French came in handy
With my students from Algeria
How I loved their French accent
As they tried to pronounce
The bothersome words in English
Leaving a never ending smile on my lips

After they spent an hour writing
I made them pause
To have home baked brownies
I’d made from scratch
Along with a soft drink
A time to relax…

Refreshed
They continued on their essays
And I decorated each note
With stickers
“Great Work”
“Way to Go”
“Excellent”
“You are a Star”
And for the women
Lots of hearts!
I love hearts
They decorate my office
Pillows
Key rings
Earrings
And now
My little notes
Which came straight from my heart

Each one got to exchange the finished essay
For a handwritten note from the teacher
I said with a sheepish grin
“These stickers are not because you are a child….
But…because I am!
I am a child at heart!"

That brought smiles
And a hug from 
The journalist from Brazil
“I’m going to cry,” she said.
As she gave me a bear hug
My heart sang
They had learned to love writing
What greater joy could be mine?

The Brazilian journalist
Met me in church last Sabbath,
Gave me another warm hug and said,
“Teacher, thank you for the note
You inspired me to do my best.”
And what she couldn’t articulate well
Sparkled in her eyes
And danced in her hand motions

Silly little stickers
Simple little words
A whole lot of love
Love for my students
EVERYONE needs some encouragement
Everyone needs to know 
That inside the heart resides
A wealth of beauty longing to be expressed
A piece of the soul that longs to live forever
In the written word

I thank God I’m a teacher
After all, 
I’m in good company
For, the GREATEST Teacher of all time
Jesus Christ
Is my mentor!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Tea Party

Lies, glamour, gossip and Earl Grey tea,
Turbulent tales boiling in china cups.
Elegant sacraments of blue-haired ladies,
pinkies stuck in the air, hiding their anger
or boredom or feeling their own
despair.

Crimson glass roses, feathers and jewels
crowned with wide-brim hats… trims of
gloves, lace fans and perhaps some pearls
are appealing to these extravagant, fast
and proper old girls…

The guild does not approve of:
cola,
   tortilla chips or
      piercings of the tongue.

Invitation is by Tea Bag Only merely 
a device to project the status of a
stunning, affluent wife. Shaved legs,
polished nails and GiGi’s Brazilian
waxing, will enliven you as a part
of the crowd but may seem 
a little bit taxing.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

The Sweetest Compliment- My Blog on FB Musings

	The day before I posted a picture on my Facebook page that I thought would bring criticism my way. It was the picture fuller sized woman, sitting on a wicker chair. The controversial bit? She was stark naked. The beautiful bit? She was gorgeous….rolls and curves and everything! She was sitting sideways with one of her legs over the arm of the chair. Her long auburn hair cascaded down to cover those bits of her that needed covering. All you could see were curves and rolls. The article that went with it was about acceptance of fuller bodied women. It was a humorous write which compared whales to mermaids in response to a sign posted on the door of a gym, “Would you rather be a mermaid or a whale?” Anyway, it resonated with me because I used to be called a dolphin. I’m VERY free and graceful in the water. I LOVE to swim. Now….I resemble another aquatic mammal which, though large,….is still graceful and beautiful. You GUESSED IT…the WHALE! ;) Anyway…the article was AMAZING. I loved it and I posted it, knowing as I did so that the conservative Christians in my church group would find it…..disconcerting, to say the least.
	The next day, I posted a picture of myself, which happens to be my current avatar. I love snapping pics and this pic was one that I particularly liked. My hair is flaring out all around my face. You can’t see it here. The caption? BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT. A little while later I got a message in my inbox by a really good Brazilian friend of mine who was part of the staff at the university where I teach. His comment? 
“The latest pic you posted: hot!! but I could not post this comment there, hehehehehe so im messaging it.” I messaged back that I thought so too, and it really helped that the woman had such a pretty face. In my mind I was going to tease him and say, “Oh, you mean the pic of me?” but I never got the chance because this was his next message: “btw i was talking about your pic!!! hehehe but that other one is pretty hot too!!!!” 
	I was beside myself. How can I explain the joy that it gave me to read that? Now you all must be thinking one of two things: 1) shame on her for sharing his personal message (HE KNOWS. I TOLD HIM I WOULD) 2) what does that have to do with us?
	I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that I’m aging…with the fact that I’m not the woman I used to be…with the fact that the world sees only skinny as beautiful. A compliment like that gave such a boost to a woman who is struggling with body image issues. You never know what words can do for someone’s self-esteem….especially words for a dear friend. Marcelo has been and continues to be a very dear friend. He made my day yesterday. I’m here to say….don’t hold back on words of affirmation. Of course, think of the context…and appropriateness.  I’m still flying high on his words. I will for a while…it will give me the impetus I need to be that woman I was….that I still am on the inside!
Eileen Manassian Ghali

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Riding on the Coattails of a Pebble

The universe revolves around patterns and numbers.
Like an insomniac knowing not the meaning of the word slumber.
To say it's a big place would be a gross understatement.
If it were a face we'd be living on a farthing of a freckle,
a speck within a speck, in a weak attempt at communicating
with other fellow specks.
So where does that leave us,
being little more than dust riding on the coattails of pebble?
In the grander scheme of things
are we just the byproduct that some entity imagined one day
from a place both incredibly near and far, far away?
One who is a whiz at math no doubt...
Just look at the population,
how in it's in a constant state of progressive multiplication,
born into a world yet only to be divided into petty categories:
White, black, brown, yellow,
short, tall, slim, fat,
Asian, Caucasian,
European, Indian,
Yugoslavian, Brazilian.
It's a wonder we are recognized at all
living on this ball within a greater ball.
You wonder who holds the strings
or if we're all just windup toys;
alive and exciting for a time
only to run into the last gear,
the last programmed function.
Just what in the world are we doing here?
The universe may practice it's progressive multiplication
and subsequent division. That doesn't bother me.
What I personally like to do is find the GCD (greatest common denominator)...

... the fact we live and breathe. Ears to hear and eyes to see. So pick up the pieces... we have a long way to go if we can ever hope to solve this puzzle.

Though we may be a speck within a speck
riding on the coattails of a pebble, rejoice
with me. That you ARE, that you BE.

Take a good long look
at what surrounds you. It is much more than
it appears.
I don't know all the answers, but I do believe
we have a purpose here.



For the Nationality Contest.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

For Him

When in April 2013
Her soul fled... ignited
Like a car engine...
Still, he steered hard on her timid face

Oh passion mixed with tension
Even at a Praying Ground?
On her, he kissed with words
Making her dance and say 'cheese'

Into her soul like showers of waters
Penetrating her resilient heart
With words, rhymes and signs
As such..she scattered her Brazilian hair

At every little chance,
she, of his name, chant
Even in the belly of struggle
she lept in bubbles with jumping smiles

Wow! the - vocally endowed!
Little wonder,that feeling of 'Somehow'
Caress the walls of her pointed nipples
As she murmurs ...With a loud silence.

Painstakingly combing a breath of fresh air
In and out of her very unique nostrils
Like a helpless lamb in the altar
..Curling the angered joy of distance.

Words, rhymes, massaging rhythms
To the veins in her flowing blood
Back, front, left and right
Signalling at her swelling "Kinni"

"I will never let you go..."
The song she sang with a resounding bang
Ko-La 'wole' come in to stay, stalk me today
Into the bottomless deep of my sweating "Kinni"

Cos from 'Maba, she, in irony surrender,'
Her head, her shoulders, her feelings, her soul
Like they've long belong
To Bankole Kolawole, her funky, naughty Lover.

(NB: Maba is a place along Lagos-Ibadan Expressway, Nigeria)
"Kinni" literally means "something".

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL

   MERRY CHRISTMAS
           AND
A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR
TO ALL MY FELLOW POETS
ALL OVER THE WORLD!!

FARSI - Christmas-e-shoma Mobarak Bashad
FRENCH - Joyeux Noel
GREEK - Kala Christouyenna
GERMAN - Froehliche Weihnachten
ITALIAN - Buone Feste Natalizie 
LATIN - Natale hilare et Annum Faustumi
NAVAJO - Merry Keshmish
BRAZILIAN - Boas Festes e Feliz Ano Novo
SPANISH - Feliz Navidad
URDU - Naya Saal Mubarak Ho
HINDI - Shub Naya Baras
           AND
HAPPY HANUKKAH
HAPPY KWANZA

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

PEOPLE DOT COM

PEOPLE DOT COM

The nightingale sings
With full-throated ease.
The tree swings
In its majestic way.
The lion gets its prey
For a good meal story.
But whatever I do,
I pause to think about
What people will say.

I am a Jew
In love with 
A gentile
But what will they say?

I am a Prince
Feeling agape 
For my virtuous maid
But what will they say?

I am a Protestant
With deep affection
For a Cath-Princess
But what will they say?

I am a coloured knight
Panther of my fair liege lady
Still, what will they say?

Even love for piety
In a stony society
Calls for what they will say…

Lovers cannot pursue
Their heartthrob 
For the fear of what they will say

I am a car owner
I feel like ambling the street;
I am a damsel with 
A fixed Brazilian hair,
To unfix it and plait didi
What will they say?

When you make a great feat
They will say you have suspicious feet
They will say 
Dem go sey
Wetin dem go say?
Kilode! 

Before my thoughts to action become,
Must they first be reviewed on people.com?

Man’s quest for happiness
Is bound to that sorrowful cord
Called “dem-go-sey”

Is it until my breath is gone?
When my eyes can no longer behold Nature’s boundless beauty,
When my nostrils can no longer inhale its fresh fragrance,
When my ears can no longer hear its melodious music,
When my bud can no longer taste of its delicious delicacy,
When my hands can no longer clasp its sea sand,
When my feet can no longer amble on its graceful grounds,
Is it then that I will ask;
What will God say?

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Brave New World

It's the nature of the experiment
To be peeling off my autumn skin
In a gasoline waterlogged romance.
You can stay
If you want to.
We're pulling figures out of the way.
A fire in the hills 
Is luring a crowd in
And the admission fee starts
Somewhere in the infinite.
The new years Tokyo Alliance
Has brought a bouquet 
Of pharmaceutical pleasures
And I'm handing out 
Needles and narcotics
In the opium den.
This brave new world
Sells sex for a dollar and
A penniless teenager 
For even less.
And fast from the ground
Stands a Brazilian girl,
Fastening her garter belt
And smoothing her skirt
As she casts a virgin's suicide stone
Into the sounds of the sunrise.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Your Querencia And Why Your Not Quitting

Could you imagine,
A face like that?
Created by the face of an angel
And modeled like fashion
For the damned and deceased.
A respected locksmith,
Drunk on insomnia and aging,
Kissing the pavement
With bare and busied feet.
The Brazilian beauty
Who prides herself as
The representative of blushing.
The one who catches the bouquet
By chance and
Throws it away before anyone notices.
But on a theory in a slip of time,
Before the extinct proposition
And an oddly proportioned new born,
Curls a quivering life form
In the belly of this woman so sweet.
Born from innocence and named Mary,
For the sake of Jesus.
She is not 36 nor is she 16
Yet she is at the fruitful age of 57.
And at 57,
This symbol of love and innocence
Is fumbling with the curiosity
Of breast feeding her unborn child
That wiggles and withers with frailty
Inside of her.

Dark wood,
Unimaginable line,
Where could you have gone
When the pages were as blank as the faces
And for the life of you,
You couldn't tell the difference.
Just say it.
Rip it from the tip of your tongue.
Show your taste buds no mercy and speak.
Grow.
Expand.
Consider the possibilities when
It appears there are none.
Enjoy the pain
And embrace all oppressions and oppositions.
Slumber in the smutty bluntness
Of a marital masquerade.
Quit it
Then keep it going.
Move the stones
And bend their broken subtractions.
Crack the indescribable aptitude
Of times motive for murder.
Explicate reason,
Smoke your lungs away,
Cry your eyes out,
And suck at the wastelands.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

TV, romance

TV, Romance 

So I´m guilty, a temporary crack in 
my tough exterior, a moment of 
sentimental- too mush watching of
soap opera- weakness.
Her coat, hang in the wardrobe, in  
the restaurant, and I pressed it to 
my my face, closed my eyes and 
inhaled her fragrance, only woke up 
when two women looked at me and
giggled. I must be careful not show 
a chink in my armour of coolness and 
never again watch Brazilian soaps. 

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Baby I don't know you

Baby, I don't know you, but....... Your enchanting, lithe Brazilian figure, Your melodious laughter I feel a warm pleasure. Baby, I don't know you, but....... Your magnificent eyes & silky bronzed hair, An intoxicating aura, a fragrance in the air. Baby, I don't know you, but you are...... Like a flower that blossomed, out in the sun, Rare like a diamond, you are the one. Baby, I don't know you, but....... Your hair flows softly, your smile lures me in. I want to hold you tight, to connect us chin to chin. Baby, I don't know you, but.......please....... Stay with me a while, I only wanna talk to you, I think, I really fall in love, I really love you. Baby, I don't know you, but I promise.......... This promise means I sacrifice all of me for you, Understand this and make our lives anew.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Endangered Species

Endangered Species

This one is true
No tongue-in-cheek wink
The poor Hoo-ha crab
Is becoming extinct
They say that the women
Trimmin’ today
Have left the poor Hoo-ha crab
No place to stay
They need warmth and protection
From a natural forest
Or they’ll soon go the way
Of the late Brontosaurus
The poor Hoo-ha crabs
Will never do well
Till women revert
And go au-nat-chur-el
Crabs want to go back
To when women were lax
No pruning of landscapes
No Brazilian wax
A time when the Hoo-ha crab
Multiplied fast
A time for the Hoo-ha crab
Now in the past
And before you jump on me
I know that it’s true
A guy can get Hoo-ha crabs
Just as easy as you
For men now have taken to
Manscapes and trimmin’
At the whim and the pleasure
Of Hoo-ha trimmed women

Note:
Doctors now say
Hoo-ha crab incident
Has drastically dropped
About 80 percent


Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Tea Party

Lies, glamour, gossip and Earl Grey tea,
turbulent tales boiling in china cups,
elegant sacraments of blue-haired ladies
pinkies stuck up in the air,
hiding their pain or boredom
or unleashing their
hidden affairs.

Crimson glass roses, feathers and jewels
crowned with wide-brim hats and trim,
gloves, lace fans and perhaps some
pearls, are appealing to these
extravagant young
and proper
old girls.

The girls do not approve of:
	Cola
	   Tortilla chips or
      Piercings of the tongue…

Invitation is by “Tea Bag Only,” which is
merely a device, to project the status of
a seriously affluent wife. Shaved legs, 
polished nails and Gi Gi’s Brazilian
waxing, will enliven you as one of
the crowd but may
seem a little 
taxing.

Details | Brazilian Poem | |

the pope statues and me

The Pope, Statues and Me 

 Confounded old age, I keep looking at a blank screen a plateau of nothingness, 

except for this ridicules idea that I must travel to Rome and see the statues I once 

wrote about; and perhaps have little chat with pope about this and that. I must 

talk to him now before the Vatican machine brainwashes him into conforming

 to a glorious robed pope, a person of empty rituals. If I get to meet him, he could 

dress up in a smart Italian suit, a false moustache and a nonchalant way of walking,

 we could look at the statues; then over a few beers, Brazilian sausages, with Italian 

flavour; tell him a secret so deep he might reject it as fantasy by a deluded person.



Dear Brother Frances, your name is Erik, we are twins, shared the same womb, 

but I was kidnapped by Gypsies, grew up in a camp of filth as an underdog in our

democratic society and know how demeaning poverty is and can help you with

your austerity program.  You are, the bishop of Rome.

There will be a stunned silence, either he accepts my story and embraces me or call 

the guards; whichever way he will not forget me and the statues of Rome. 

 






Details | Brazilian Poem | |

Green and Gold

Everybody behold
They wearing green and gold
An underdog team
With only one dream 

In a group of death
They hold their breath
They show no fear
The world cup is near

They fighting an up hill
To show their skill
Behind a Brazilian coach
No one will approach 

Fans screaming there name
Winning every single game.
A rainbow nation standing tall
Nothing’s going to make us fall