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Best Spanish Poems

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Definition & Discussion of Spanish Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Pienso, quiero y desearia

A veces, quisiera gritar,

Quisiera correr,

Quisiera reir,

Quisiera llorar,

Quisiera morir,

Quisiera iluminación,

Quisiera vivir,

Quisiera escapar,

Quisiera revivir...


A veces, pienso en ustedes,

Pienso en espacio,

Pienso nublado,

Pienso oscurecido,

Pienso esclarecido,

Pienso en transparencia,

Pienso en huesos,

Pienso en naturaleza,

Pienso en actuar,

Pienso en todo...


Desearía volver a amar como antes,

Desearía saber más allá,

Desearía expresar más de lo normal,

Desearía unas manos agarrar,

Desearía en hombros impregnar,

Desearía contigo llorar,

Desearía contigo caminar,

Desearía tus abrazos recibir,

Desearía mi corazón de plata y titanio arreglar,

Desearía mi mente repasar...


Desearía que no me traicionaran,

Desearía con besos y amistad despertar,

Desearía en un paraíso soñar,

Desearía a todos concientizar,

Desearía a todos impresionar,

Desearía construir nuevos horizontes,

Desearía adversidades borrar,

Desearía romper leyes,

Desearía ser libre,

Desearía a todos ayudar,

Aunque me cueste la vida...


Pienso en querer el deseo infinito,

Quiero un amor eterno,

Deseo uno amistad inquebrantable,

Para no morir más...

Details | Spanish Poem | |

The Meaning of Bread and Tortillas

"Mi primo" means my cousin in Spanish.
He calls me his "primita"- little cousin.
This is the story of how mi primo
Taught me about the meaning of bread;
Of the meaning of tortillas...
He and I are exchanging languages 
Over Dairy Queen chicken strips;
I repeat the words he teaches me
Back to him in my all-american 
White girl accent,
Trying to learn how to Salsa 
With a tongue that only knows
How to stumble over the trills
And rapid-fire hot-sauce syllables-
He makes me say them again and
Again until I sound like a distorted 
Calle 13 track on repeat...
Mi primo offers me the bread
That came with his meal;
I ask him why he doesn't want it.
He says he doesn't eat bread;
He is Hispanic; he eats tortillas-
Do I know tortillas?-
He gestures, indicates the 
Flat, full moon-shaped
Circle of a torilla with his hands.
Si, I know tortillas.
What I want to know is-
What the heck do tortillas have to do
With whether you eat bread or not?
So mi primo tells me una historia
About a guy he knows,
20-something and something else...
All his family came from Guatemala;
He was brought up going to a church 
With a pastor that preached sermons
That trilled like heavenly trumpets;
He has skin that was colored warm 
As if he had grown up kissed by 
The sun of his family's homeland;
He knew how to speak English but
His mother tongue was always Spanish-
His cousins were his best friends
Because being "un Guate" means
Knowing the meaning of "la familia"...
He learned at age 21
That he was born in America.
Eagerly, he shed his Hispanicness like
A snake skin that had grown too tight,
Clutching at the revelation of his birthplace
Like a get-out-of-jail free card,
Hides the color of his face behind
The red, white, and blue of his
Irrevocable Americanness... 
He doesn't go to church anymore,
Because American guys don't 
Have time for God;
He buys big, fancy cars he doesn't have 
A prayer of paying off because
American girls are supposed to like
That kind of thing;
He tries not to remember 
The meaning of la familia...
And he always eats bread-
His tongue has suddenly turned
Too American to abide the taste,
The flatness, of las tortillas...
He is the reason that mi primo cannot 
Abide the taste of bread, too thick
With the flavor of betrayed heritage
To sit easy in his stomach...
Mi primo offers me,
His little blonde all-American cousin,
The bread he doesn't want.
I wonder if one day he'll
Mean the word "primita" enough
To offer me a tortilla.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

La Sociedad de Miradas

Camino en sociedad de ignorancia,
Donde palacios son corruptos por efectos de arrogancia;
Pasan por nuestros lados,
Echando el ojo, tratando de disimular;
Donde la conciencia es absentista,
Donde todos dicen ser abstencionistas,
Pero, todos son ambiciosos, consumidos y absorbidos por hipocresía...

Camino en sociedad abolicionista,
Donde abolicionan toda aventura,
Donde la única aventura es abolir la sociedad,
Siendo una sociedad abstraída y egoísta,
Poniendo todo lindo, pero con abusividad escondida,
Siendo una sociedad de imbéciles accionistas,
Mostrando intransigencia acérrima y decisiva,
Pero, todos son perezosos basados en negligencia anarquista...

Camino en sociedad de advertencia,
Donde los reprimidos quedan agrisados,
Donde los rechazados y solitarios quieren valentía,
Donde la paz social va desvaneciendo,
Donde la minoría quiere acracia y amnistía de la sociedad,
Para derrocar la corona trastornada y distorcionada...

Camino en sociedad amorfa,
Donde nos han forzado ansias a través de propaganda alarmista,
Donde existen muchos agiotistas fraudulentos,
Donde propias convicciones son raramente afianzadas y aseguradas,
Donde la autoridad permanece en mordacidad y acrimonia,
Donde los realistas son fastidiados y ajusticiados,
Donde las miradas autoritarias son falsamente alegatorias,
Donde muchos permanecen injustamente en incertidumbre ambigua...

Solo a través de sabios ojos,
Es que existen verdaderas experiencias;
Con mirada fiera,
Con mirada de ira,
Con mirada desamparada,
Con mirada sigilosa,
Con mirada misteriosa;
Con toda mirada real existe vida lúcida y estragos mortíferos...

Camino en sociedad de odio,
Donde toda mirada se vuelve rencorosa,
Camino en sociedad de miradas,
Donde las paredes escuchan y hablan,
Donde las divisiones son provocadas,
Apuñalando nuestras espaldas;
Piensan que es un simple juego de carcajadas,
Pero, todos son hipócritas a través de siniestras miradas,
Que me tratan de dejar en agrafia,
Con el juego de las miradas...

Details | Spanish Poem | |

If I Love You

"If she loves you," they tell you,
"This will be a problem."
I am una niña, a little girl-
And you are too old for me,
Too young to know
What you're doing,
Too careless to be cautious,
Too Hispanic to be safe
In a place so diverse that
Teenage boys
Are always classified by race-
You are too beautiful 
To be resistible.
But I promise not to love you.
I promise not to need you.
I won't kiss you where 
Anyone can see, and I
Won't cry when you leave me-
Yes, I know you will,
I'm not so young as idiocy-
I can be your secret,
As long as you are mine...
And if I write you love poems...
I'll write them in the dark.
I'll recite them to the shadows,
And no one has to know.
You never have to know
I ever lied.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Ode to Mi Corazon

As I pull weeds from cracks in sidewalks
Yout sit on top of thrones made of solid gold
And I pay no mind to the women around me,
Only to your beauty do I hold an Ode.

I see my fair Spanish lady
my daring, sweet rose with thorns,
That run up and down her spine.
As she stops in the daily parade
Waving at the peasants,
She looks at me and summons her guards
Too take me away.

Her beauty is unbearable.
I cannot take not being with her
For a single moment in my life.
Her hair,
Black like coal,
Her smile is bright, as the first rays of the Red Sun
In the dawn.
Her lips painted with ruby lipstick,
her silk laced dress and shawl wrap around her,
Like a beautiful butterfly in her cocoon.
Her skin of olive, dark color and her green eyes.
My God, those sweet and piercing green eyes
Oh, how they hit my soul and make me shiver with excitment.
She is intoxicating and I am intoxicated in her beauty.

She is like an angel, a Latina beauty who walks the streets paved gold,
As I walk the cracked, cobblestone walkways.
She shines in the Spanish sun, like a dimoand in the ruff
As you blow the dust off her sweet brow,
she glows and sparkles with extordinary excellence.

She is beautiful and sweet and kind.
She loves me, but her father minds.
I am only a peasant, and she royalty.
Can our love ever be together in one holy matrimony?
I pray to the Lord, of all that is good,
Please give me a sign that she loves me.

Soon a storm came over,
blowing me down to the ground
And a cloud of dust swallowed me whole.
A great Conquistador on a great white stallion
pulled me up and told me that she wanted to see me.
I shacked with nervous of joy as I followed the warrior.

She was there, under a palm tree
Near a beautiful beach in Barcelona.
She smiled and a glow covered me with passion.
I hugged her and kissed her upon her sweet lips.
I tasted virginity and she tasted loyalty.
We both tasted beauty and harmony.
As the warrior left us,
We made love upon a vigin white sheet,
Soon covered with a flowing river of red.
She moaned with exticy and love was in the air.
The Ode to my sweet Spaniad, Mi Corazon!

We lay there in each others arms
Looking up at a clear night sky
The twilight glimmered ever so softly
And a shooting star blazed across the sky
I kissed her and she kissed me.
I whispered in her, "My love forever"
And she pushed me back upon the sheets
and we made sweet and ever lasting love again.
As we looked in each other's almond colored eyes.
I said to her, in a soft voice, Mi Corazon.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

May the Love of Jesus Touch You


May the Love of Jesus Touch You!

May the love of Jesus bless and touch you!
May his presence be with
 and uplift you!

May the joys of the love make
 you complete!
And touch you, from your
 head to your feet!

May the glory of the lord
 be with and keep you!
His majestic power can really touch you!

May the words that he’s spoken,
touch your spirit!
His mercy and salvation… 
 He freely give it!

May the sweetness of Jesus,
 into your life bring!
His righteousness and beauty!  
Your everything!

May you take some time
 with Jesus in prayer?
How much he loves you! 
 How much he cares!

By Jim Pemberton    07.28.13





Details | Spanish Poem | |

Para Mi Familia Y Amistades

Para Mi Familia Y Amistades Si ustedes estan aqui sentados, escuchando estas Palabras es porque yo ya no soy de este mundo. Yo todavia estoy aqui pero ustedes no me pueden ver. A ustedes mis hijos - quiero decirles que siempre los ame mucho con todo mi corazon. Yo nunca tuve riquesas en este mundo. Mi mas grande Tesoro fue haber los tenido a ustedes, fueron el Tesoro que Dios me mando. Yo los cuide lo major que pude. Dejen que Dios conforte sus almas y limpie sus lagrimas. Despuez sigan sus vidas y el tiempo curara su dolor. Ahora yo tengo que emprender una jornada, pero tengo que hacerla sola/solo. Por favor no lloren por mi. No he muerto, estoy empezando una vida nueva. Traten de vivir una vida recta y buena. Mantenganse siempre cerca de Jesus y asi estaran cerca de Dios. Pronto nos volveremos a ver. Cuando ustedes suban las escaleras de oro - sere yo quien los encuentre alli. A mi familia y amistades les quiero decir - gracias por los anos y tiempos que pasamos juntos. Por los tiempos que reimos y los tiempos que lloramos. Como ustedes saben - todo llega a su fin. Ahora yo les dejo aqui mi ultimo adios. Desde Arriba yo le pedire a Jesus nuestro Senor que los bendiga a todos y cada uno de ustede. Adios...
08/19/2014 By Lucilla M. Carrillo

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Taco Shells

Taco shells are made of yellow corn meal. They are tasty and crunchy, and usually a good deal. You can stuff them with ground beef, chicken, or even fish. Fill them up with plenty of whatever you wish. Tacos are something folks north of the Rio Grande adore. However, they break too easily and spill their contents on the floor.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Sociedad Aquebrantada

Esta sociedad ciega esta en crisis,

Es la causante de la corrució caótica,

Solo viven de la intención inseguros,

Sin saber qué es la determinación,

Dejándose llevar por una doctrina quebrantada...

 

La sociedad solo vive por vivir,

No dejando legados,

Sino dejando marcas.

Por eso, la sociedad aclama saber,

Pero en realidad no saben nada,

En comparación a los reales sabios...

 

Pero, la sociedad rechaza,

La sociedad reprime,

Y la sociedad restringew a los sabios,

A veces por envidia,

Ya que están cegados por ambición y pendejadas...

 

La sociedad rechaza el ideal de los sabios,

Pero dejan a tontos e imbéciles libres al mundo;

A éstos les encanta vidajenear,

Por solo romper privacidad...

 

Solo pocos aprecian la amistad y el amor;

Otros se limitan a sí mismos y se ciegan;

Luego, se transmutan a incrédulos ambiciosos,

Sin propia convicción...

 

Por eso, muchos ambiciosos y mentirosos,

Recurren a la religión, en últimos instantes;

Pero, en últimos instantes es que éstos,

Mueren en propia cobardía e hipócrita sanidad...

 

No existe tal cosa como perfección,

Solo existe la compleja simpleza o la simple complejidad;

Pero, nada es imposible,

Ya que no hay límites en la posibilidad...

 

Por eso, no todos los que aventuran se pierden;

No todos los que exigen, aplican lo exigido;

No todos los que miran, observan;

No todos los que oyen, escuchan;

No todo el que hiere, merece;

No todas las heridas, sanan;

No todos los que inhalan, respiran;

No toda sonrisa es feliz;

No toda boca, habla;

No toda sangre y lágrima es en vano;

No toda mente y corazón son puros e inocentes;

No todos los que actuan, piensan;

No todos los que piensan, analizan;

No todo el que analiza, siente;

No toda alma es neutral y digna;

No todo el que existe, vive;

Y no todo el que vive, sobrevive...

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Notes on Dating a Latino: What You Don't Learn in High School Spanish Class

One. Latino boys like Buffalo Wild Wings. It isn't clear why, but it's definitely emerging as a pattern.

Two. Latino boys are persistent. When he asks to kiss you for the first time, say no. Why? Because you've known him for a matter of weeks and he is not your boyfriend yet. Don't worry... he will continue to ask every week until you say yes.

Three. Latino boys are really good kissers.

Four. Latino boys love their family. His cousins are best friends, so you probably already know several of them. If any of his cousins also like you, you might think this is problematic. Your boyfriend will tell you that it's normal, and it's just because they're jealous, and not to worry about it. You will probably worry about it anyway. Sometimes it's better to let things go.

Five. Latino boys are romantic. He will tell you how he loves you in two languages and struggle to find an apt metaphor which he can pronounce in the English language. Since his English isn't perfect, he uses his hands to compensate when he speaks,  uses a tilt of his head, a shift in his voice; he says most with his eyes, when he isn't speaking at all.

Six. Notice how he lights up when he smiles at you, like the sunrise... remember that the word for smile in Spanish is sonrisa.

Seven. When he offers to teach you the meringue, say yes. When you trip over each other's feet, laugh. When his face moves close to yours... kiss him.

Eight. When your racist father starts talking about socioeconomic classes, remind him that unlike your brother's American friends, your friends are sober. (Well, more sober. Do not bring up tequila. They're not potheads, at least.) Besides, your Spanish teacher is thrilled with your miraculous improvement in spoken Spanish.

Nine. When you go bowling with him and his cousins and he whispers in your ear that people are staring at us, tell him it's just because they're jealous that I have a boyfriend that will dance with me in public.

Ten. "Te amo" is a phrase that sounds prettiest when whispered.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Talvez

Bonita.
		Que?
Es bonita. La agua...
		Ho, si. Es muy bonita. Como tu.
Eres loco... Quieres nadar?
		Ahorita? Hace frio!
No hace frio... no mucho...
		Si, hace frio. En el verano,
		Entonces podemos nadar.
Ho... ok. Que piensas?
		Nada. En ti. Y tu? Que piensas?
Mm... que eres un buen amigo.
Y... que amor es malo.
		Por que dices eso?
Que?
		Por que dices que 
		Amor es malo?
Es la verdad.
		Amor es bueno.
Mentiroso.
		Por que?
Amor es malo. Ya lo se.
		No, es bueno. Es perfecto.
Como puedes decir eso?
		Dios. Porque Dios es bueno,
		Y Dios es amor...
		La problema es con las personas.
		A veces las personas son malos...
		Pero amor es bueno.
Pienso que eres bueno.
		Enserio? 
Si. Claro que si.
		Y amor? Amor es bueno?
Ahorita, no se...
Pero... talvez.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Mamita

He turns me into
A wide-eyed little child
And he is my favorite game-
It goes like; he holds me close,
His fingers in my hair...
His breath is steady, matches mine,
His heart beats in my ear...
Now if I stroke his skin
With my fingertips, will the 
Beat of his heart quicken?
If I press myself more closely
To him, will the warmth
Of his skin rise?
If I trace the outline
Of his lips, will he murmer
"Mamita..."
Softly?

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Warm Romantic Spanish Summers Night

A white walled Spanish villa
over looking a blue Mediterranean rolling sea
the fragrance of pink cherry blossom
and olive groves fill the warm night air
as waves of calm and tranquillity sweep over me.

Red roses and bottle of wine upon a table 
by the pool candle flames flicker and dance
in a calm caressing breeze
Soft gentle guitar music
charge the air with romance.

With a dark haired señorita in a red elegant dress
and hair styled to impress
we talk and laugh exchanging flirting glances through the night
then dance under the stars slowly holding each other tight
Kisses lead to caresses 
as we hold each others heart within our welcoming hands
For the night is made for love
She is my woman
and I her man.




Peter Dome.copyright.2013.Dec.



Details | Spanish Poem | |

Miami and Mi

Miami and Mi
In Miami he sat outside a patio
on the floor against the wall
and felt the Miami breeze in December
and tried to remember
the times spent in another world
when the milieu was different
and each puff  from his Cohiba
as he sipped a glass of wine
created a euphoric essence
of time alone with his thoughts
and better things to come
and now he lived in a foreign land
for the first time in his life
and he now knew strife
away from his time and space
he had no home or money
but his wife knew her time
in Miami
he puffed again and examined his ash
he still had a car to drive  but no cash and
he always passed  the hot colored houses 
of  pink, peach `and plum, 
It's never cold or drab in Miami
 and Jesus wears a guaybera
and no one can hear ya
because se habla español
in Miami
Miami- written in July, 2003
(c) Ralph Sergi

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Feeling Tijuana

When I sleep, dream of this Paradise
tequila sunrise, cheap brewskis
ocean breeze, palm trees
beautiful brown ladies
South-of-the-Border
feeling the Tijuana blues
then a disturbed ringtone in my ear
time to wake-up, work is near
just another day, looking in the mirror
like what I see
half-empty Jose Cuervo Gold bottle I crave
cannot be saved

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Limerick croises: Once our 'Rita jumped into Sea Anne-Anne - 14

Limerick croises : Once our ‘Rita jumped into Sea Anne-Anne – 14

Once our ‘Rita jumped into Sea Anne-Anne
Sirens howled « panic stations » refrain
One Valhalla Rani
Offered her much money
For a shot sans mantilla – in vain

Our ‘Rita – you bet – a stunning beauty
Not given to falling for flattery
Was all of prime six feet
Which she tucked under meat
For Sevillan beds stood (on) two feet plus three ! 

So they put her up that night till Morgan 
Classified her as subterfuge weapon
NSA roped her in
To put one o’er Putin
Now Chinese wish her to test rat poison !

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013