Best Caro Poems
Verbum Caro, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Verbum Caro by T. Wignesan
Glory to the resuscitated Lord
Incarnate cry of the Flesh becoming Verb
The body is not the place of death
Where the soul feels alright despite revulsion
He who holds his nose
While passing his house full of droppings
Whatever be said : My flesh my pigsty
It is he the tomb requiring cleansing
A body all armed comes out of me
From the invincible nakedness
Fomenting peace in the midst of war
He’s of an innocent cast of mind
As virile as the sun
His worth illuminating the earth
The world is set on his head
The man straightens up It is midday
(from Les Jours de la Passion, first published by the Abbaye de la Pierre-qui-Vire by the Editions diu Zodiaque, 1962)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Oh my dear Mama
I am in love with her
I want to go to Port Rossa
To buy a wedding ring
Yes, yes, I want to go there
And if my love were in vain
I'd go to Ponte Vecchio
And fall to my destiny
I struggle with this tormenting
Oh God, I'd like to die
mama have pity on me
mama have pity on me
To be sung to "O mio babbino caro" by Puccini
You can find it on YouTube I suggest Maria Callas.
through pine tree shadows
winds monarch's path to home tree -
needles blown by wings
Brian Johnston
July 28, 2016
Inspired by Caro Cecile on Face Book's Japanese Poetry Garden Path
Poet's notes:
Hoards of monarch butterflies have an amazing migration which is more bird-like than that of any other insect. They migrate thousands of miles following the same path of their ancestors, even returning to the same trees that their parents inhabited to mate and lay eggs. I love the suggestion that their path might be traced by pine needles that have been disturbed and rearranged as they pass.
Once upon a time,
We wanted the same world Caro,
But now you found another world,
This quick and early,
I tell you what, I’m sorry,
I’m sorry, I didn't get to hold your hands before your last breathe,
I know you won't read this sonnet, but this is my eulogy for you.
You stole my star and I’m broken inside ‘Cause you’re gone,
You have disappeared but will always re-appear in my memoirs,
Your history won't be wiped for as long I animate & generations to come,
Your death has really hurt me! Too much sorrow! Torrential tears!
I know, I will see you right there in heaven, Amen!
The fear is only God and I recollect you for being a religious lady, Amen!
I will forever love you Caroline.
But this gap in my heart you have left is so big like I'm to move mountains,
However, your street signs and symbols still stand in my head.
C-Love, we will miss you, Oh me... Oh dear… Oooooooooooh…….Oh God... Oh My.. Amen
Till we reconnect again Caroline.
**In memory of #Caroline Nantege
**TmTs
Translation from Ivan Kotlyarevsky
Why is the water so much roily?-
Hasn’t it been shook up by the wave?
Why am I sad and not jolly,
Hasn’t my mother chastised me to save?
Yet, my mother didn’t trouce me-
From my eyes, there pour th’ tears of bad,
No matchmakers come from my sweetheart,
But are sent from the unloved lad .
Where’re you, dear? Take a look,
See my anguish stand;
Oh, fly over, my truelove,-
They’re taking, now, my hand.
Faster, darling, bring me off
From the fierce misfortune:
If I am to live with an unloved,
I’d rather perish in a torture.
Translator into English: Ivan Petryshyn
Traduzione dal Ivan Kotliarevskij
non e' l'onda che ha sbattuto
il fiume ch'era trasparente?
non e' la ragazza triste, infelice,
perche' la mamma ha svegliato la sua mente?
non mi ha battuto la mamma-
le lacrime cadono da soli:
non ci sono i sensali dal mio caro,
arrivono i mezzani dal uno che non voglio.
dove sei, mio tesoro? guarda-
come io soffro;
vieni, vieni, mio cuore,-
un odioso uomo mi offron.
sii veloce, caro, mi salva
dalla sfortuna piu' grave:
se dovessi vivere con un odioso,
meglio perire con uno che amavi.
Ivan Petryshyn, traduttore dall'ucraino
Translation from Ivan Kotlyarevskiy
???? ???? ?????? -
?? ????? ?? ??????
???? ?? ? ????????, ????????,
?? ??????? ?? ?????
???? ? ???? ?? ???? -
???? ????? ?????:
?? ?????? ????? ???,
?? ?????????? ?????? ????.
??? ??, ?????? ???????? -
????? ? ?????? ????;
??????? ??, ??? ??????, -
????? ??? ????.
??????, ?????, ????? ????-
??????? ????? ???????:
??? ? ????????? ??? ????,
?? ????? ????????.
Translation from Ukrainian into Russian by Ivan Petryshyn
*The Boy Who cried German*
Although Ikeh was as nervous as ever he still gathered a little guts to address those sluts. He always did walk around in a jumpsuit like that suitor who visits Bisi everyday. His Igbo accent flourished with pidgin diminishes his English when ever he spoke giving room for the linguist in our school to use as a case study when talking of mother tongue nonsense.
His fanta face and coca-cola leg mama Nkechi describes as a factory error of the producers of caro white. That bow leg of his Malam Audu mai shayi laughs at privately but still hails him as the next Ahmad Musa. Even the father of raggae Bob Marley would have given him an award if still breathing, he always allowed the brown village dust to cover it giving room for lace n dandruff. What of his lips? Forget about its tattered looks, the village girls gossip saying his girlfriend must be crazy to kiss those, its huge structure like the camels in the movie "The Mummy"
Yes! His girlfriend Franklin
Only God knows where she got that name from. By birth her mama n papa called her Omoshewa Ajoke Babatunde but ever since she visited the city on her arrival changing everything concerning her heritage but that fool forgot to remove her Yoruba tongue always putting a "H" in place of an "A" she loudly calls "Abigail" "Habigail" or "Again" as " Hegain"
A perfect with him.
Alas!
He dressed in an America suit trying to adjust the tie he never wore, his huge feet in a rubber sandals trying to have mutual understanding with the rough village sands using his handkerchief to wipe the excess dust the white men vehicles left behind. His nose like the back of papa Michael 190 showcasing his mighty nostrils like the twins well beside Adaobi's house. He waved at the passersby to show he just brushed his brown dirty teeth.
Now in the podium I sighted Ikeh talking with Albert the German. The microphone was now handed to him
"Oh Lord" I said closing my eyes because I know he will make a mess of the presentation bringing room to the downgrading of our village. Then in seconds my heart sank on hearing his German English. The crowd in amusement
*So Ikeh can speak English fluently?*
Caro-LYN,
is an old friend,
extremely dear.
She renews our
contract
every year.
IF YOU DREAM
[words written as spelt by emotions]
If you should ever dream
yourself in a realm
you do not know
Where flowers spread
beauty on mirrored streets
And bright stars ride
On a rainbow in a twilight pink
And.....
If you ride in pride
on a stallion's back
And the roses and tulips
Bow down at your passing by
And your image in
The mirror is an angel
And the stars unmount
The rainbow to stand
and dim an applaud at you
And the rainbow rolls down
To spread on the ground
For you to pass on
And the air covers you
with logoligi sweetness
And if the scene engraves
A permanent smile on
Your dazzling face
Then Obaa Caro
You've found yourself
in my thoughts
bread makes life interesting
more interesting than the evil thoughts
as interesting as the wine and the trees
and the dusty shades of the sunset
brasserie, sweet shops, smell of the baked wheat
a cool breeze over the alps, smell of freshly baked thoughts
over a hot cup of tea
this is what a dear life should be
in the moment, right now
over a loaf of bread,
any way you want, any way you like
pão torna a vida interessante
mais interessante do que os maus pensamentos
tão interessante quanto o vinho e as árvores
e os tons empoeirados do pôr do sol
brasserie, lojas de doces, cheiro do trigo cozido
uma brisa fresca sobre os alpes, cheiro de pensamentos fresquinhos
mais de uma xícara de chá quente
isso é o que a vida deve ser caro
no momento, agora
sobre um pedaço de pão,
do jeito que quiser, como quiser
Criticism slips so easily
From unempathetic tongue
That we even blame ourselves.
Still are we not to appraise ourselves
And others, all the time...
Praying for Grace's wisdom?
Shame and blame
Are often all we hear
But surely are not love?
There is no God but God,
Jesus but a shadow of His Love,
Can we claim the same?
Though we are His children,
Let our pride be in Christ's blood,
Not in our own deeds.
Such grace, such beauty, such love,
Loved by God before creation...
Teach me Your ways, oh Lord!
Long Tooth
August 9, 2016
Poet’s Notes:
Inspired by a poem by Caro Cecile, a FB friend and poet!
My love left me a letter,
"Dear one, I hate to make you frown,
But there seems to be a part
That's missing from my heart.
I need to find it
Before I can settle down."
Then she sent me a postcard,
It read, "Caro, ciao from Rome."
She loved the music, food, and wine,
And the Vatican was fine,
And she didn't know
When she'd be coming home.
She caught a cold in London,
Thought she'd glimpsed the King at tea.
The Thames was far less than sublime,
But Big Ben keeps perfect time,
And the galleries
Reminded her of me.
She got a tan in Rio,
The beach there is divine.
Confessed she'd had a little fling,
And leaned a most peculiar thing,
That Brazilian kisses
Don't compare to mine.
Then in a card one morning,
"Dear one, I'm coming home.
The world's too big and much too wide
Without you by my side,
And I've realized
I didn't need to roam."
Now my love's done with traveling,
And she knows in her heart and mind
That the thing she went to find
Was the love she left behind
And wasn't missing,
It was right here all the time.
Author's note: To paraphrase Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz", sometimes if you go looking for your heart's desire, you don't have to look further than your own backyard.
In the days of agony,
The axe was stronger than the gun,
At that era, men worked with the axe than any other tool,
Days when liturgy was the way of life,
Edge was the name of the drum,
When it sounds,
The message is sent to all men,
And their spirits are awakened,
Egunmu was the name of the dance,
The dance only for the strong,
Caro was the name of the bride,
The unique bride, only for the wise,
Dororima was the spirit of encouragement,
Saying thank you,
And as such, making you want to do more,
Ju was the messenger,
Going all the domestic errands for men.
Those were the days when men were really men.
Woman in Chains
Inner child blinks back tears through the cheval glass
At a bruised reflection staring back,
Battered by the hand of perfection,
Wearing chains in glimmering pearls deception,
Beauty and the beast - beauty now turned beast -
Though in the grip of vogue,
Restrained designs fettering creativity,
Beneath the veneer of outlandish style,
Wears hand-me-downs;
Wounded dove, kissed with a rose from the mist
Gasping on the runway of perfection
Beneath the blazing sun of cutting tongues
Behind made up faces,
Disappears into a chalice -fiery crucible -
Of coveted, borrowed, chains –
A dark kaleidoscope of shifting shapes and sizes -
Of stolen sublime – esteem devoured – ravished -
In runway parades of opaque flawless delusion
Skin hanging from a bony dress frame
Of starving wings scarred by black veils of distortion
With the salt of conformity heaped onto tender wounds
Searing tender flesh reaching out
In manacles for models of the meticulous
Bound up in chains of unforgiven imperfection
Forged in expectation’s subtle abusing links
With parables of precise precision
Handmaid designed by faultless perfection unseen the in the reflection
Till, clothed in a sheath of a new creation,
Slips out of leg shackles, greased by grace,
The inner child in somersaults soars on wings re-stored.
About 30 million people suffer from Anorexia Nervosa – both women and men. It can be a fatal disease effecting heart, kidney and liver functions. It is most prevalent in teenagers and young women. Anorexia took the life of singer Karen Carpenter, ballerina Heidi Guenther and model Isabella Caro. Princess Diana suffered from Anorexia. The recovery rate is very low – about 20%. This is definitely the story of Beauty and the Beast.
8-26-20
Contest: Woman in chains
30 lines
Go forth to the Sea, Sis
In fulfillment of thy request
To flow with divers, seagulls, your Sea dreams
Envy shall sailors see, Sis,
You and this dancing sea, Sis,
Your poems, now in war of man and flowing Sea
In joy of your arrival with its waves
Secrets of the past now shared with mermaids
But this Soup now sour, your absence
In envy of Sea that took your last essence
When fiends you have none to share our Soup
This PoetrySoup, poets in pains
Of your melody, the missing lines
O, Carolyn, why hath thou chose new friends
of the water world?!
Go forth to the Sea, Sis
Good night, Caro, dive safely, your water world
Our hot girl summer rolls on - like lava downhill or male models doing - anything.
We’re in Athens, Georgia, yes, it’s hotter elsewhere - but you can die in the sun - is this really a competition?
Fashionistas and trendsetters are adorning themselves in fluorescent lime green this summer. Making it the must-have statement color for the cool kid's club. The whole aesthetic was inspired by Charli XCX’s lime-green album cover for ‘Brat.’
Now, before you roll your eyes at the state of America, where silly people are bilked by influencers - isn't that what happened in the 60s with ‘flower-power?’ Wasn’t that ‘counterculture’ flagging, where everything from school buses to bikinis were flower adorned, driven by bands like the Beatles and umm.. [fill in the blank]?
So, we tripped (sounded psychedelic) to the mall of Georgia, to shop for unnecessary, lime-green things. Nail polish (which I think eats), beach bags, coverups, Crocs, friendship bracelets (cause we’re 13-year-olds), Cinnabon's - which aren’t technically green but are delicious and the Apple store - because it makes us happy.
I’ve read, or heard it said that “malls are dying.” Not this one, on a weekday mid-morning it was packed. The line for the eighteen-movie-plex looked like Spring Festival (Chinese New Years) at the Beijing airport.
Sadly, it’s time to admit that as 20-year-olds we’ve aged out of the “Clare’s” esthetic. A 12-year-old in line to get her ears pierced, looked at me, while I was looking at friendship bracelets, like I was her grandmother and I felt it - it was real.
.
.
Two songs to go with this:
This Girl's In Love (Live At HMH) by Trijntje Oosterhuis
Riviera Life by Caro Emerald