Best Bolivian Poems
LAUGH IT OFF
BERNITA THE BOLIVIAN COUGER
BERNITA SHUFFLES OVER TO THE MAKEUP COUNTER, WITH GLASSES SLIDING OFF HER NOSE AND EYES PINNED TO THE SALES GIRL LIKE A TAIL ON A DONKEY. " I'D LIKE TO RETURN THIS CHEEK POWDER MISSY, IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A TART ! I GET CHASED AFTER BY YOUNG MEN AND AT MY AGE I'M LIABLE TO BREAK A HIP OR WORSE, DISLOCATE MY KNEE CAP!"
THE SOFT SPOKEN GIRL LIVES ON STRINGBEAN PATIENCE EACH TIME MRS.B. REAPPEARS TO IRK HER WITH HER OLD ANTICS. WITH A SIGH SHE CREDITS HER THE PRODUCT THEN WATCHES, AS SHE PICKS UP A QUAD CANE AND HEADS FOR THE INCONTINENCE DEPT. IN A BOLIVIAN ACCENT THAT REFUSES TO LOSE ITS PATRIOT TONGUAMALASH SHE SAYS, "I'M OFF TO FIND DEPENDS. NOT A WORD ABOUT THIS TO ANYONE MISSY. A LADY SHOULD NEVER SHOW SIGNS OF LOSING HER TINKLES OR SPILLING HER BOWELS !" (HER THIN PURSED LIPS TELL ANOTHER STORY STILL, THE SALESGIRL OBLIGES)
A WEEK PRIOR, MRS. B. RETURNED A 24 HOUR LIPSTICK. THE SALES GIRL TRIED A LITTLE HUMOR THAT DAY, "IT WILL RUB OFF AFTER A FEW KISSES MRS. B., DON'T FRET, JUST ENJOY THE LIPSTICK !" (HALAS IT FELL ON DEAF EARS) MRS. B. WAS ALREADY HEADING FOR THE SOAP ISLE MUMBLING IN SOLIDARITY... "A LITTLE LYE, CAN FIXES EVERYTHING "
NEVER MIND TELLING HER THAT LYE SOAP WAS ONLY SOLD ON AMAZON THESE DAYS. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AS USELESS AS TELLING HER THAT "EVENING IN PARIS PERFUME" HAD BEEN DISCONTINUED SINCE 1969. "HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY MRS. B." SHE SAYS, AS SHE HEADS FOR THE COFFEE SHOP AND ORDERS HERSELF A WELL DESERVED, DOUBLE DOUBLE.
WRITTEN BY: VIENNA BOMBARDIERI AKA MYSTIC ROSE
In A Deep Forest
In a deep forest I did find myself lost
Trying to cool temper with some frost
Then went to sleep off into oblivion
And now am a North Carolina Bolivian.
Is amazing how Bolivia got its name
On sacks was identical and the same
Being that all the people are so poor
Maybe we should be called Ecuador.
People on Carolina have became high
And sold souls to someone passing by
Republican campaigner happen to be
Wanted to change things dramatically.
What unbeknownst to me had been told
Go to Carolina when you want to grow old
And another thing may want to mention
In soup just threw last bone of contention.
So I started swallowing my Poetry Soup
Now just how low will I have to stoop
Before body aches and back does explode
Carried a heavy load down Tobacco road.
The way, in which I lived, so shall I die?
The sea salt washes up against rocks
and bleach the stones white
Like a genuine pearly stone. That when I knew
Someone was mourning a death.
The party was going strong
The doorbell rang. In that moment
Everything changes.
Speak low, lean low
Turn down the tempo
A sudden death; another wealthy mortal man
Took his last breathe.
Did he pass the test?
Bending over and sniffing the coke
By the mountain load;
Cocaine scattered all over the desk. Money burnt
How you lived, so shall you die?
Why cry. That was your life.
He became the cocaine and
His mind became retarded
The salty breeze massages my scalp
As they soul jump into to the sea
longing to be cleanses
Speaking low, leaning low their noses
Are on fire: another lost soul
Bolivian marching powder
Drip, drip drops of blood
Vanish out to sea.
a different kind of philosophy
The Devil philosophy
Would the new government continue from where CHAVEZ left,
and even do better where necessary?
Is it possible that the new administration's governance is about
uplifting the standards of VENEZUALAN PEOPLE through fostering
sustainable development?
Can those to be elected into power,change the course of solving
the VENEZUALZNS problems and needs or shall be worse than
the former?
Or they shall be ushered into office with no purpose behind the
VENEZUALANS,only eager to shut off their eyes and ears
by imperiarism from outsiders?
Will they do better than CHAVEZ,for the poor or for the rich
elite __ bridging the gap between the rich and the poor?
chipepo lwele
05/03/2013
*Tribute to HUGO CHAVEZ [1955-2013]
Boring Pot of Boiling Water
by James Thomas Horn
(Bolivian, NC, USA)
Boring Pot of Boiling Water
What would be the most boring thing to write a poem about? How about a boring pot of boiling water?
For breakfast, what would be neat to eat?
How about oatmeal or maybe cream of wheat?
For a long time don't have to try and toil
Just bring a bunch of water to a bubbly boil.
Mix all your appropriate ingredients in
Then start to stir up again and again
But if out of pot all water was to bubble
That is when you know you are in trouble.
To a boil water recently, barely had come
Being good old me who has never been dumb
Desiring to get my certain sugar high fix
All together in pot now would merrily mix.
Ended up being a delight which was dreamy
All of it seemed so smooth and very creamy
Handle was hot and soon hands became sore;
Dropped pot and ended up all over the floor.
Hunger for peace is still present and must be fed
So had a big bowl of Increase Peace instead
And that I had to do was pour cool milk on
Eat it at the table until war was all gone.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Soldier
My entry for Create Peace by Writing
Poetry Contest
www.poetrysoup.com
www.story-telling-around-the-world.com
Tall Trees We Were Under
Wanted to go some place but not sure
So then we did decide to take a detour
Going on great ride through countryside
Where farmers with all their fields abide.
What we saw was such a pretty scene
Calm, peaceful, quiet and quite serene
Which we willingly would approve of
And with it we both fell deeply in love.
River ran through area bright and clear
Such a true blessing for us to be near
From God, all of this had been a gift
Each of our souls and spirits did uplift.
A small church in valley soon would see
Where each Sunday people wanted to be
In God's presence knowing He was there
To remove all our sins and deep despair.
Church was result of God's great wonder
All among tall trees that we were under
Prepared place in heart for Him to live.
Out to everyone His word we did give.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivian, NC
Opposed to an Oblivion
In Brunswick County, there lived a Bolivian
Who was opposed to having another oblivion
When both he and gorgeous wife here came
To find abundant amount of fortune and fame.
Their realtor who happened to be a loan shark
Tempted them with trying to live in a trailer park
And being there were only two mouths to feed
A tortuous trailer would be all that they need.
When like sheep they would creep off to sleep
Into debt, they never, ever had to go deep
And my husband who has been an old fart
Had dream about Wal-Mart and a shopping cart.
Both back wheels of cart had started to bang
In front was a fool with front tooth looking like a fang
Even though with much musical talent was gifted
He went to a smaller store and there shop-lifted.
Fish and chips and a pint of dark brew.
Malt vinegar and lashings of salt.
A fish dinner served up
by a truck in a newspaper cone.
That was then, that was before
taste buds got hard boiled,
before the bowtie culture wars.
Pickled onions are now too small
they should have stayed big and brown
something saucy and sour to munch on
while walking around London town.
Peas pudding, jellied eels,
pork pie to tempt our eyes.
Mostly all gone
or not the same.
Shame,
for now we are cosmopolitan
even here in the Midwest
we are upscale in the fine dining fare.
French, Italian, Bolivian, Mongolian,
Mexican and Estonian, it's all good
or can be, but
fish and chips wrapped in newspaper,
nothing better!
Running fast,
the most beautiful of
bullets.
Sarcastic
but always classy.
The lights are up now,
I bid you adieu'.
Thanks for the memories and the ever present inspiration,
seeing so much love
It is for you.
Nothing hurts now
but our hearts,
but like the brilliant,
flash of energy you were,
you never quit looking out for me ,
nor I for you.
As this was our dynamic-
I wanted to keep you in one place
for a long moment
and like so many others,
to harness a little of that spirit.
It was an amazing run babe.
For me you will never grow old.
XO