Best Portuguese Poems
A Portuguese princess there on the stairs
Knee high and smiling of wish filled cares
A grin of a sprite and a handful of pickings
A thought to feelings and a feel to thinkings
Till pointed announcement, "For you and for you."
A secret left caught in her spirited dart to
Another pressing matter of love and games
A month passed and pity's provocation aims
To knocking on my girl's hollow door
Sounding a nothing echo for the evermore
Wistful angel synced to clocks not mine
So disadvantageous did thine flowers consign
Why not to honouring when I had a lover
Who did not gloat to beauty put asunder
By modern wants and riverless walks
and treeless skies and dreamless talks
Give me back your moment of bestowing
That glinted charm that beckons love's sowing
With a woman I needed and wish as you
To see lover's love letting blue be blue
And fire warmth and winters just waitings
Till red ribbons make kites tailings
Under summer suns, above greenery breathing
Come back again to the stairs and stepping
up to shake my shirt and turn my head
With a handful of love and repeat what you said
"For you and for you" and spirit into my memory
as the omen that begun and beget a true love's story
PORTUGUESE WINE
Bar tending lady,
when you come around, would you please
bring me another glass of Portuguese wine
and have a little smile--just for me?
You drive me crazy, bar tending lady,
I think I love you.
Bar tening lady,
I don't know the games people play.
If I had another glass of Portuguese wine
I'd think of something better to say.
You drive me crazy, bar tending lady,
I think I love you.
If I had another glass of Portuguese wine,
my whole world would look just fine.
If I had another glass of Portuguese wine,
I'd try to make you mine!
Don't you think you know what I have on my mind?
Give an indication, when you bring me
my Portuguese wine!
Bar tending lady,
I don't know exactly what to do.
If I had another glass of Portuguese wine,
I'd try to make you dreams come true.
You drive me crazy, bar tending lady,
I think I love you.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
My language
of latin language powder,
fights between Hispanic
and Anglicism...
but lives curdled
of the many languages...
It harbors Arab subtleties
and Africans presents
and is studded with neologisms
of the inventors of words and concepts...
My Portuguese is a patchwork quilt
fruit of a base and several sources...
Fight for its universality
in the immense Babel
that is our world.. !
Sunrise and already the water
is being seared with a glow
as if under a grill.
You can feel the heat building
in the morning air, the sand
still warm from yesterday.
The tide has left the creature
stranded on the beach,
its frilled sail glistening
and rigged with blue tentacles
clumped menacingly beside
its motionless body.
The sun will soon cook it
to a dried out bladder.
This drifting marvel of murder
is now no more than sea phlegm
coughed up on the crest
of a wave. It looks so pitiful.
And yet it still
has the power to inflict
a painful sting. Venom
waits for one last desperate
chance to snare some poor
careless prey.
My fingers seem possessed
with a will to pick it up
to see how it feels without
being stung. I hover somewhere
between head and hand,
stranded by indecision.
Footnote
This is one of a series of poems
that have the shoreline as the
backdrop for the exploration
of meaning in things washed up
on the beach or in the experience
of being in the moment.
Paul
~ Portuguese Corpora-tease ~
If, in a manner of speaking
as it were
The thing is, to my mind
in all honesty
Transparency, at the end
of the day, is our #1 priority
at the heart of our mission
the foundation stone of our culture
And you have my word on that
so to speak
~ Copyright, all rights reserved, 'Doubletalk Jabberwock,' Anywhere, USA
The Head of Spanish Geese
couldn’t find a single Portu-geese
Even the prettiest of ‘Pretty Pleases’
Couldn’t persuade those geeses
~ to renew their visas
I'm looking for rare verse to cover my mouth, let my chest throb ... May it be flawless May It be absolute... Verse of chaste love ... It can be a smack it can be a kiss !
Busco um verso raro
desses que me faça
calar a boca...
Que faça palpitar
o péito...
Possa ele ser absoluto,
possa ele ser perfeito...
Verso de divinal amor,
pode ser só uma beijoca,
pode ser um grande beijo... !
A Portuguese Village
One has to deal with gossip
the trick is to be polite
but don't get involved
Be friendly but not overly so
They all have dogs
get them to like you
your neighbors will see you
as a friendly sort
The villagers drink wine
but you will not see them
drunk on the road
Follow these simple rules
and you can do as you like
and be free