Best Aires Poems


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Throughout my life I've noticed,
That people like to talk;
But though they like to talk the talk,
Most don't walk the walk.

Most folks think highly of themselves.
Some more than they should.
They'll put on aires and talk about,
The ugly, bad and good;

Of all the people, places, things,
They're seeing, going, doing,
But be polite, be interested,
In what they say they're brewing.

Don't repeat a word you hear.
Don't take one word to heart,
For things change over night, you know,
Make you look like an upstart.

So if you're asked your take on things,
Say it's all news to you.
Just shut your mouth, let others talk,
Let them tell you what's new.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.

Moonlight Tango

Moonlight tango

It was a Saturday night, in Buenos Aires, 10:30pm, to be exact. It was a hot summers night, and you could see, and feel, the steam rising from the cobblestone street, here in La Boca barrio*. This is where it all began over a hundred years ago, and you can still see pictures of tangos faded heroes of yesteryear hanging on the walls.

The tango hall was packed with caballeros* in their suits and suspenders, and the damas* dressed in their red dresses, and stiletto heels. Still feels like the roaring 20's fedora hats and all! With a glance, and a flick of his baton, the orchestra leader motions to the bandoneon* player to begin, and so he starts dum dum dum, dum dum, dum dum dum. 

The men tilt their fedoras slightly to one side, and stride ever so elegantly across the hall to pick their partner, and together they glide over the black and white checkered marble tile dance floor. The moonlight filters through the skylights, illuminating the smokey haze, that permeates the Milonga* hall. 

The dancers have their gazes fixed on each other, and they move and glide to the incessant syncopated rhythm of the bandoneon. The violins and cellos join in with their plucking sound matching the tempo of 2-4 time. The dancers are dancing chest to chest, and then cheek to cheek, moving and gyrating, in time to the beat. As the tempo picks up the pace, arms and legs entwine, and then separate and entwine again. Spinning and twirling, strutting and whirling, they dance into a frenzy, at a frenetic speed, all the while staring with a look of love, (or at least of passionate desire) and what else would you expect to see dancing  the moonlight tango?

* La Boca barrio- downtown neighborhood where tango was born
*Caballero(s)-gentleman(men)
*Damas- Ladies
*Milonga- tango dance hall
*Bandoneon- Small accordion style instrument.

John Derek Hamilton
February 07,2017

Premium Member Abc's of Capital Cities

Athens, quite a place, so full of mythology
Buenos Aires, in Argentina, a place I'd love to see

Canberra, is just antipodean class
Dublin, a pint of Guinness in a glass

Edinburgh, the capital of the Scots
Freetown, a city, now violence is never sought

Georgetown, a place where Jim Jones left a scar
Helsinki, in its mountains, where reindeer herd so far

Islamabad, one of the greenest cities of the east
Jakarta, very close to where the Komodo's live and feast

Kuwait City, the start of Saddam's downfall
La Paz, is the capital, that looks down on them all

Monaco, where the rich and famous live
Nassau, with her golden beaches, where the breakers finally give

Oslo, in the land of skiing and fjords
Prague, with its architectural hoard

Quito, is the second highest in the world
Rome, to the lions, the Christians were hurled

Seoul, in the lands of the 38th parallel
Tripoli, where many an Anzac's fell

Ulaanbaatar, in a country full of steppes
Valletta, amidst the Mediterranean set

Warsaw, the ghetto's in World War II
Xi'an, its all i have to see this through

Yerevan, near the Biblical mountains, of Ararat
Zagreb, escaped being a Balkan War stat


Written 3/1/2010.





http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/the-world.php


The Night Is Young

In the night when I can not sleep,

when I dream about dreaming

when even God is sleeping

and the devil is out looking

for lost souls.

I think about silly things,

I think about the baker

who just woke up, his

poor wife, leaving a

warm bed for a warm

oven, the small old

security man counting

every minute regretting

ever being born.

The garbage man

desperately thinking

of how to find a woman.

All these poor men

who are not allowed to

sleep.

I slowly smoke my

cigarette illuminating

the city with every drag.

I dedicate every puff to

all these lost souls.

The night is young

the stars are out dancing

accompanied by the

moon, like an old

wedding orchestra

and their seasoned

company, they know each step,

each rhytm.

And I am alone with my pillow

thinking of all the beautiful women

somewhere, somewhere far away.

In Paris, Buenos Aires, Beijing

New york Addis Ababa and even Beirut.

What are they doing what

are they thinking??'

God is asleep the devil

is out working, my question

is blowing in the wind..

I dream a little dream of them

and hope they dream a little

dream of me.

Because in lala land

everything is possible.
© Adam Sliwa  Create an image from this poem.

Cactus Flower

A darker song reaches skin and bone, 
On panel streets fading steely gray,
Long and far, I fear you are gone. 
Dark clouds are melting in time, 
Touching the days of humid spring, 
A heat-wave dancing too far within.
The mirror speaks, “You are now alone!”
While asleep you cast a fated twin. 

Careless to say this is not forever,
Under the night, eyes stretch like leather.
Missing you now, my breath goes astray, 
You beckon me here to capture the fray, 
Only to see you gone from my view,
With less than hope, I go my own way.

Lizette Woodworth Reese
Spicewood
The spicewood burns along the gray, spent sky
In moist unchimneyed places, in a wind,
That whips it all before, and behind,
Into one thick, rude flame, now low, now high,
It is the first, homeliest thing of all--
At the sight of it, that lad that by it fares,
Whistles afresh his foolish town-caught aires--
A thing so honey-colored, and so tall!

It is as though the young-Year ere he pass,
To the white riot of the cherry tree,
Would fain accustom us, or here, or there,
To his new sudden ways with bough and grass.
So starts with what is humble, plain to see,
And all familiar as a cup, a chair.

First Date

First Date Poets Dozen
                                      
                                         Saw her beside me
                                    Eyes yearning desperately
                                              I fell instantly

                     Perfume in hand I approached her ever so slowly
                     Not moving too fast proceeding oh, so cautiously.
            
                 After asado, and cinzano, then gelato, we took a stroll
              Parliamo piano, piano, love's flames started then ci vediamo

                 Past heartbreaks revealed, nothing at all was concealed
                    Talking quietly entranced, long, long, into the night
                  Walking hand in hand hearts aglow with what we feel
             Our hearts had found their home, we just knew it was right
          My perception of her love's reflection, was to my heart's delight.


*Asado= Argentine barbeque
*Parliamo piano piano= we spoke slowly (Italian)
*Ci vediamo= see you later, goodbye (Italian)

First date was in Buenos Aires hence Spanish Italian references
Most Portenos residents of Buenos Aires are of Italian/Spanish descent.


December 24,2015

For Silent One contest
First Date Poets dozen


Fifty Some Years Ago

(Taking headlines from October 1964,
the poem revisits our shared experience ...)

Monday 5: Fifty-Four East Germans Tunnel to Freedom

Back then, it was not in doubt,
(Richard Burton Tony Quinn):
the Wall was there to keep us out?
No – built, in fact, to keep them in.

Thursday 8: Beatles Release “She’s a Woman”

My love don’t give me presents.
East is east and west is west –
Ringo passed his driving test –
Blofeld looks like Donald Pleasence.

Monday 12: The Moog Synthesizer Makes Its Debut

It’s fantastic!  It’s so new!
Music made in outer space!
Now we’ll win the missile race!
How we love you, Doctor … Who?

Wednesday 14: Martin Luther King Awarded Nobel Peace Prize

Hypatia, Gandhi, Jesus Christ
and Socrates … he was that good:
and just like them, he knew he would
so very soon be sacrificed.

Wednesday 14: Khrushchev Deposed

Now, here’s a man who really tried.
It’s thanks to him, that Cuba fright
didn’t end in Nuclear Night.
Reward?  His thugs brush him aside.

Wednesday 21: My Fair Lady Film Premiere

Can a statue have a heart?
Can what’s vulgar morph to art?
Entertainment as idea?
Tin Pan Alley’s Galatea.

Monday 26: Eric Edgar Cooke Executed, Western Australia

Cleft palate, hare lip.
Bullied here, bullied there.
Mumbling moron, bloody crip.
Then they hang him.  Life ain’t fair.

Thursday 29: Audacious Diamond Robbery in New York

Banner headlines in the papers.
Daring crimes, coolest capers.
They’re classy crooks, they’ll fence their loot
in Buenos Aires, or Beirut. 
(In the real world, how'd it go?
Look at 31 below.)

Saturday 31: Lyndon Johnson Proclaims the Great Society

Nothing novel, or unique:
his vision was for Uncle Sam
to help the luckless, tend the weak.
One word destroyed him.  Vietnam.

Saturday 31: New York Diamond Robbers Caught

Tiffany studs?  More Studs L. Terkel.
One rock alone, a hundred grams,
Murph the Surf’s men on the lam:
they didn’t make Columbus Circle.

Saturday 31: Goose Kills Astronaut

Theo Freeman was his name,
test-pilot/astronaut his game.
Ejector seats are not much use
against a full-grown Galveston goose.

Premium Member Nuff Said

A blue whale's tongue weighs more than an elephant
Now aren't you really glad you tuned in?

There are two hundred million insects for every human
Wouldn't have gone camping if I knowed that!

We weigh slightly less when the moon is directly overhead
Due to the gravitational effect
Too bad the moon isn't shining all day long

100 lightning strikes occur worldwide every second
Stay indoors!!!

Humans grow about 8mm every night while asleep
But revert back to their normal height the next day
Oh so glad, otherwise we'd spend a fortune on new clothes

250 people have fallen off the Leaning Tower of Pisa
Guess they leaned a little bit too much

1 in 28 American school-aged children
Have a parent in either state or federal prison
Holy crap! A really great example to follow

A single healthy human male produces enough sperm
In two weeks to impregnate every fertile woman on the planet
Uh! I volunteer my services... no charge!

Although gold is a heavy dense metal
It is generally considered non-toxic
Gold flakes may even be ingested in foods or drinks
No wonder restaurant meals are so high

Pope Francis once worked as a bouncer in a Buenos Aires bar
“Doing God's work?”

Mozart wrote a canon entitled “Leck mich im Arsch”
Which literally translated means “Lick me in the ****”
Nuff said!!!


© Jack Ellison 2014

Premium Member Kind of Blue- Ooh Bee Ooh Bee Doo

Mississippi 1954 

"Don’t you bring that no good 
      So and so 'round here. 
If you bring him to ma door 
   Bobby Roy and Billie Joe 
Will make him disappear." 

But Mother, I love him.

 
"She’s a spool of trouble, son. 
  A stitch in time may save nine 
But ain't gon save you from the vine." 

But Papa, I need her. 
(And ooh ain’t love a thrill) 

"Son, inteegration works in Paris 
Even better in Buenos Aires 
But in Mississippi- 
Oh, that can get you killed." 

"Son, a White girl ain’t what you missin’." 
"Girl, get a White boy to give you kissin’." 
But neither one of them would listen 

They walked hand in hand 
Down love's long highway 
Singing, 
Gonna have it my way 
Gonna get married 
Two children down the hallway 

Oooh Bee Oooh Bee Dooo 

Six cars pulled beside them 
When that Southern sky grew dim 
Billy Joe said, Boy, 
We gonna put you on a limb. 

But they kept right on singin’
(Ooh love is such a thrill) 

We’re four-thousand miles from Paris 
We were searchin' for Buenos Aires 

But we got each other still.
 
Oooh Bee Ooo Bee Dooo

Premium Member La Tombe D'Arbre - Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal's Tree Grave By T Wignesan

La Tombe d’arbre – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s « Tree Grave » by T. Wignesan

Quand-t-il s’était parti, notre défunt,
Au-delà pour le Monde des Ombres,
Pendant que nous poussions des gémissements,
Nous lui avons enrobé dans d’écorce d’arbres,
Et nous lui avons porté, en récitant
Notre chante de mort lugubre,
Vers sa tombe dans un arbre isolé
Au bord de la Longue Lagune.

Même quand nous sommes bien éloignés
De nos feux de campements éparpillés
Nous ne l’oublions jamais
Ni de jour ni de nuit
En faisant face à l’endroit où il sommeil
Sous la lumière d’une lune blanche,
Au bord des eaux scintillantes
De la lagune silencieuse.

Sont déjà oublié ses exploits de chasse
Et les chansons qu’il avait composées ;
Le pauvre gars tout seul,
Il aura surement de la peur
Quand les vents de la nuit chuchotaient
Leurs aires d’épouvantes
Parmi les chênes marécageux hantés
Au bord de la Longue Lagune.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Les Paroles De Mon Ame

LES PAROLES DE MON
AME!


Il faut que je reste
fidèl à mon âme
Meme si que tu pense
autre chose à l’âme

J’aime
chanter,jouer,danser
avec ta voix !
J’ai besoin de ton
souffle pour
éclairer ma joie !

C’est simple pour
toi,pense à moi ;
Ici,c’est mon âme
qui parle avec toi :

“Il dit que j’adore
cette oiseau blanche
J’arrete a
palpiter,si son
front se pench

Je trouve le monde
sombre et béni
J’avais qu’un
souci,ta perdre et
fini !

La grâce emplit tes
yeux comme bijou ;
Comme l’éffet de ton
sourire ingénu !

Je lis ton regard
qui s’égaye au
mienne
J’écoute quelqu’un
dit :c’est trés
bienne !

En tournent j’ai vu
quelqu’un imvisible
C’était Don
Juan,murmure
impossible !

En ce moment j’écout
une autre personne
Il parle dans mon
âme comme dans sa
maison :

« Ami !pourquoi
contemplez vous sans
cesse ?
Le jour qui fuit,ou
l’ombre qui
s’abaisse ;
Quitte le
ciel,regard dans ton
âme ! »

Quand j’ai vu la
haute,precissement ;
J’ai connu cet
homme,c’était
Victor.H directement
!

En disparent dans la
nuit,il ajouta :
«Aime,à fin de
charmer tes heurs !
A fin que tu voit
dans ses beux yeux ;
Des voluptés
intérieurs
Le sourire
mistérieaux ! »

J’ai jetté des
bruits étranges dans
les aires
Personne ne repond
;j’étais dans désert
!

Maintenent mon âme
cri et pleur ;
Je pense que c’est
assez d’écouter de
mon coeur !

Il suffrit du fils
des grands douleurs
C’était ton
amour,souriant dans
mes pleurs !


Moein -DU  LUNDI  16
 AU  MERCREDI  18 
NOVEMBRE  2009
© Moein Jr  Create an image from this poem.

A List of Things Less Needed

1.) An amoeba on the cellular level
2.) A flashlight on the sun
3.) The Colorado River at 2:15 am
4.) Thursdays on the moon
5.) Oxygen....Strike that....We need that
6.) Blank checks when full checks are needed
7.) Cucumbers that begin with Q
8.) Copper
9.) The numbers 25 and 43
10.) The capital of Argentina
11.) Virginity and all her cousins
12.) Empty bottles of fluids including whiskey
13.) The number thirteen
14.) The number fourteen but less frequently and less numerically
15.) The capital "I" in Indonesia
16.) Yellow marbles, (the square ones are fine.)
17.) Root canals and guns, (the kind with bullets)
18.) A shorter list of things not needed
19.) Islands in the Pacific surrounded by salt water
20.) Size 12 army boots
21.) Purple colored foods and oranges of a different color
22.) People with a list of things less needed
23.) People with strings attached


Authors note: The author apologies in advance if anyone did not make the list. He is particularly apologetic to the people of Buenos Aires Argentina, especially those who speak Spanish and visit nearby Montevideo Uruguay on weekends. Though they are less needed they are still greatly appreciated.

Easter Reading

Easter Reading 

In Lima – Peru- a hippo was pulling the tram car with 
its best friend a water buffalo. They had ended up
here, far from Africa, after the great flood ebbed and 
had been blessed with eternal life, only being mere 
animals they didn´t know this. In Lima no one made 
a big issue of this, but when the wider world knew 
and some adventurers set about trying to kill the pair,
in vain, the Lima people took another look, especially 
since the church thought they were the devil´s own
handiwork and god would never had allowed beasts
besting man. Angry people took to hurling mud and
stones at the animals, also calling them rude names.
From the mountain came a man dressed in white 
burnoose, and spoke to the people:
“For years you respected my creation, the hippo and
the water buffalo, with respect and care I thought  
well of you and decided that the archbishop of Lima, 
when time was right, would be the new pope, but you 
have disappointed me greatly; hence the new pope 
will be the archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina”.
The man, in white burnoose paused… and said: “It is
also time you electrified the tram system.”

Disappeared

No note,
the bed unmade,
the milk, imprisoned in plastic,
left to grow solid on the kitchen table.
Winter’s gray made me insane, and
so I flew on steel wings to Buenos Aires,
where the air is humid and smells of unwashed
sins, and the angry sun beats down 
on oceans of grass,
and the red wine flows, 
numbing my Yankee brain.
© Don Munro  Create an image from this poem.

I Hear

I hear the dull moans of a malignant class

 as classes clash and drones drone on

 Electronic wizards wrack, whack, whack

 merrily on their way to a zombie-like state.

  
 Loathing lies and jumbo surprises belie

 aires, stares and convenient alignments

 welding together a mangled mass of fluff

 certain to shift us toward a boorish fall

                            of great proportions

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