Best Famous Donated Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Donated poems. This is a select list of the best famous Donated poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Donated poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of donated poems.
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Written by
Emanuel Xavier |
It rained the day they buried Tito Puente
The eyes of drug dealers following me
as I walked through the streets
past shivering prostitutes
women of every sex
young boys full of piss
and lampposts like ghosts in the night
past Jimmy the hustler boy
with the really big dick
cracked out on the sidewalk
wrapped in a blanket donated by the trick
that also gave him genital herpes
and Fruit Loops for breakfast
past the hospital where Tio Cesar
got his intestines taken out
in exchange for a plastic bag
where he now shits and pisses
the 40’s he consumed for 50 years
past 3 of the thugs
who sexually assaulted those women
at Central Park
during the Puerto Rican Day parade
lost in their machismo,
marijuana and Mira mami’s
‘cause boricuas do it better
Tito’s rambunctious and unruly rhythms never touched them
never inspired them to rise above the ghetto
and, like La Bruja said, “Ghet Over It!”
his timbales never echoed
in the salsa of their souls
though they had probably danced
to his cha-cha-cha
they never listened to the message
between the beats
urging them to follow their hearts
On a train back to Brooklyn
feeling dispossessed and dreamless
I look up to read one of those
Poetry In Motion ads
sharing a car with somebody sleeping
realizing
that inspiration is everywhere these days
& though the Mambo King’s body
may be six-feet under
his laughter and legend will live forever
The next morning
I heard the crow crowing, “Oye Como Va”
his song was the sunlight in my universe
& I could feel Tito’s smile
shining down on me
|
Written by
Weldon Kees |
Between the visits to the shock ward
The doctors used to let you play
On the old upright Baldwin
Donated by a former patient
Who is said to be quite stable now.
And all day long you played Chopin,
Badly and hauntingly, when you weren't
Screaming on the porch that looked
Like an enormous birdcage. Or sat
In your room and stared out at the sky.
You never looked at me at all.
I used to walk down to where the bus stopped
Over the hill where the eucalyptus trees
Moved in the fog, and stared down
At the lights coming on, in the white rooms.
And always, when I came back to my sister's
I used to get out the records you made
The year before all your terrible trouble,
The records the critics praised and nobody bought
That are almost worn out now.
Now, sometimes I wake in the night
And hear the sound of dead leaves
against the shutters. And then a distant
Music starts, a music out of an abyss,
And it is dawn before I sleep again.
|