Best El Poems
My feet are on solid ground,
for to the earth I am bound.
Though I hear river flowing
and see the full moon glowing -
a pie in star-studded sky -
I do not dream I may fly.
My feet are on solid ground.
July 7, 2021 for charles messina's Elemental Poetry Contest
How proud they put them on display
Two thousand of the first of fortyk
There President Bukele did say
They’ll live in the jailhouse for decades
he went on boasting, in jail it’s judgement day,
as he held his glass of brandy toasting
inmates, suspected violent gang members
moved to a new mega-prison in El Salvador
Transferred to the Center of Confinement of Terrorism
Mixed up, unable to do any more harm
to the population, it was said
So why do I care about these souls,
tears flowed as I read the article
about thousands of prisoners, and Bukele in particular
Central American country’s notorious pandillas
And right then I understood why I cried
Hundreds never made it to round two, que pesadillas
There are the innocent ones who are denied
a fair trial, it's sad to think that nothing can be done
for a mother's innocent son
My melancholy turns to gold dust
in your soft and tender hands
upon your fingers I scatter my life
my love remains clasped in your hands
now I am a vial of cologne, emptied...
I yearn to see your lissome creeper
how it clings to cracks on the walk
well, just as it entwines the cement altar
Mi amor, that is how I yearn to embrace your heart
I used to stumble, now I am sustained in you...
This night I yearn and sigh for you
to see you sleep, hands on your chest
sinking into our bed like rosy fruit
from smooth pastures into the depths of our mattress
as the air enters your chest and raises it chastely...
Amante, steal away to me in the night
we will see how peacefully the moon rays
create quiet waves without unsettling the hush
just as it passes into the gulf is the way
I yearn to sink to the very bottom of your soul...
Fly to me from your snow white orchards
you love is ever so immaculate
my naked soul will tremble in your hands...
Encage us we are of collective souls
Display us in prisoned wallpaper as ghouls
Send us into these sepsis tanks, in tin cans
in torture dungeons, in faraway lands
Mistaken for us are the migrants
who don’t belong in our black hole,
ripped from their family’s arms,
and broken, it has a toll
Try to discern, unchain me,
give me the time of day
I’ve not done any of what you say
I’m here, do you not see me?
I’m tucked in all of your publicity
Before us you stand prestigious -n- tall,
your toughness shared inside our halls
Donning is the blood red Maga cap a telling of your gang
and Jackboots as they were worn by the Sturmabteilung
Wings reinforced by the sword’s blows, in your case
against the chains that contain, and any empathy inside
Keeping you safe an expressionless speech,
seal the deal it shall seal my unmerciful fate
Judged and sentenced without any assemblance
I see right through your imminent coarse leather, and
by the end of your reign, hard you’ll fall
And later the field forces in which you thrive
rotting torn in shreds, but still alive,
as shall be fathers ripped away from family
Have you not exhausted every remedy for me?
Infection is your reasoning,
concede for me and it shall be litigation of guilt
Rewards you’ve given, they’ve taken
and so, forsaken I be
Regardless of it, they have me in error,
as prison wallpaper
I work in the fields, a visa allows it
I wear pastel colors, a straw hat covers
possessing no tats, what of straw hats
What of straw hats?
Look how they fall like angels to the earth!
But no soft landing down amongst those rocks.
Those devils on the bridge with gleeful mirth
Terrorised the townsfolk as wolves do flocks
Of sheep at lambing time. For all their worth,
They searched shuttered houses and smashed the locks
Of any door, they could not open wide,
Dragged out the frightened men hiding inside
Battered them senseless to the dusty ground
In gutters, awash with their comrades’ blood
Each in their own vomit and bile half-drowned.
They lay gasping like fish stranded on mud.
The narrow streets echoing with the sound
Of their screaming and each rifle-butt’s thud.
My God, who are these beasts in human form
Whose hearts the desert sun could never warm?
They are Francisco Franco’s native troops,
Moroccan Regulares, so I’m told.
Free to rape and kill, they are the first groups
Into attack. Completely uncontrolled,
Each Regulare picks his prey and swoops
Raping, maiming, and killing young or old.
Just the threat of unleashing these fierce hawks
Compels Comrade Republicans to talks.
Big Sur,
oak and redwood
and open chapparel,
fragile groves of bay & laurel-
run wild
Como’ Si’ Yama’, Senor’
Como’ Si Yama’, Por Favor’…
… for Below That Embroidered Sombrero’
Shone Eyes Like El Dorado
He Was A Tall and Handsome Hombre’
Like The Range of Sierra Madre’
…Now, He Sat Center The Cantina
Surrounded by Bonita – Senhoritas
He Smiled, “Buenos-Dias Senora’”
Por Favor, Por Que’ El-Hora’ ?...
If So, Have A Seat, Mi- Amiga’
And Mercedes, Bring Over More Cerveza
He Was… Rodrigo Reyes-Pacheco’
Best - of The West, of Vaqueros’
He Came to Compete in The Rodeos
And Win Fame and Fortune in Pesos’
He Came Thru El Paso De’ Tejas
Thru Dusty Rancheros and Mesas
To Ride on El Toro Rojo
Who Has Never Been Ridden Befo’…
La Viva’… Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’ !... Rodrigo
Now, El Toro Rojo, Was Dangerous
For Killing Men, El Rojo, Was Infamous
His Horns Had Pierced Many A Corazon
Ripped Flesh, Like It Was Piñata’ Hung
I Informed All of This To Rodrigo
The Hombre, Was Bent on Being Macho’…
… He Would Ride Toro Rojo, Manyana’
Said “Gracias”… But My Cares Were Por Nada’ !
La Viva’… Arriva’… Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’!... Rodrigo
… Now, He Wasn’t Loco in La Cabeza’
I Just Didn’t Comprehende’ … “Que’ Pasa”
But I Saw Rodrigo Atop… El Rojo
… ! He Rode Like A Latino – Tornado ! …
He Rode El Rojo, To The End…
Then, Turned ‘Round and Rode Him Again…
Rodrigo had Won… Just Like He Planned…
Because El Toro – Rojo … … Was Mexican !
La’ Viva’ … Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero
Champion Bull Rider from Old Mexico
Vaya’ … Con Dios ! … Rodrigo….
Vaya’ … Con Dios !... Rodrigo o o o o o
for Ruben Ortellao...
I Don't Really Know
What Your Branch of Humanity is...
(Spanish, French or Other)
But I thought You Might Like
This Whimsical Poem...
Oh... And Thank You For Your
Most Generous Comments...
(Cause I Know You Are A Fantastic Poet...
I've Read Several of Yours
and I Love Them Too...)
(P.S. Excuse the Spelling...
I'm Spanish Illiterate (Smile)
MoonBee
hold still, eventide ...
I am a capricious cad among wraiths,
waltzing with a mop in
a Marrakesh courtyard - catching stars
as they drip with waxy and
wild wonder, into the braids of my maudlin
noose, tightening
jangling, dangling ...
rose gold anklets, (wrapped 'round leggy perfection),
shimmer their hammered facets,
kicking smoke into toroidal hoops with
raw regard
while they spin, table-top, to a
Chaabi chant
candles waving their
flames to beckon the darkness close ...
notes from a punji weave
mystery thru the heavy heat, Henna-striped hands
cradling a bottle, jade green, as the
white flowers gush their cold, gold bounty
down a curvy thigh
wetly wrapping an unblemished
capuccino calf, Perrier-Jouët trickles off tender
toes to plop, warm, on my
tantalized tongue
I kiss the fuchsia-daubed nails to
show proper veneration, then spin back to
the murky music, mop-handle
lover in tow
down to the spinning
tie-dyed rugs and pillows, I surrender all to the
callow flesh there, wanting ... willing
her hair and hide and ebon eyes
dark as delirium, while the brass-headed
snake-of-a-hookah waits
for a kiss
long draws bring dizzy
dreams and hypnotic swirls from the lamp,
aromas and an opiate nirvana coiling
around my cares
lost as a lamb, to soft skin ...
and sweet smoke.
( Jemaa el-Fnaa Square in Marrakesh is one of the most active and exciting places on earth, with exotic foods, snake-charmers, clothes and antique vendors, magicians, dancers, haqle or street theater, storytellers, acrobats, musicians, comedians, water sellers, tattoo artists, carnival acts, even organ-grinders with monkeys, and yes, opium and hashish traders. It has remained largely the same for over a thousand years, and is indeed an important part of history, declared by UNESCO as a "Masterpiece of World Heritage" - if you're ever in Morocco, it is a MUST-see! )
Ein letztes Leuchten
Abendsonne über der Stadt
Wie goldenes Laub
---------------------------------
A last gleam
Evening sun over the town
Like golden foliage
----------------------------------
Un último destello
Sol de la tarde sobre la ciudad
Como follaje de oro
the day awakes, beautiful morn,
the sun risen, a unique dawn
it's yellow rays, in earthly space
does cast on me, it's newest grace,
it reflects, shines, from east to west,
it's hands feel all, eyes see the rest,
what beauty seen by my two eyes?
that helps me more, to be alive.
always ignored and neglected-
by mindless men and those unfed.
yet it still shines, and all the more,
kindles the earth, at every dawn,
so beautifully, too beautifully!
daily miracle, so heavenly.
earth's source of life, celestial light,
the pauper's hope, the bourgeois' guide.
all things solaced, in it's mild rays,
thus waits the night, and crave for day.
beacon of hope! sweet light above!
what thing would be without your love?
/here comes the sun contest/
8/2/2014
Der Sommer wie er einst war,
bleibt unvergessen
und zwischen Rosenranken
ruht ein Hauch vergang'ner Tage,
wie leichter Tau
auf stillem Morgengras
Der Sommer wie er einst war,
ich ungezwungen,
wir Kinder,
zwischen Häuserecken
und dem fernen Wald,
spielten dort Nachlauf
und Verstecken
Ich seh' den Sommer wie er war,
mit neuen Augen.
Und wieder steh' ich dort,
wo ich einst stand
und sehe uns
im Licht vergang'ner Tage
und laufen noch ein Stückchen
Hand in Hand
----------------------------------------
Summer like it once was,
still remains unforgotten
and between rose tendrils
rests a breath of bygone days,
like those light dew
on quiet morning grass.
Summer like it once was,
I myself free,
we children,
between house corners
and the distant woods,
chased each other
and played hide-and-seek
I see that summer as it once was
with new eyes.
And there again I stand,
where I once stood
and see us
in the light of bygone days
and walk a short time
hand in hand
------------------------------------------
El verano como era una vez,
todavía permanece inolvidado
y entre zarcillos de rosas
reposa un soplo de días pasados,
como ligero rocío
sobre silenciosa hierba de la mañana
El verano como era una vez,
Yo mismo libero,
nosotros niños,
entre esquinas de las casas
y bosques distantes,
perseguiendo uno al otro
y jugamos escondite
Yo veo ese verano cuando era una vez
con nuevos ojos.
Y de nuevo estoy allí,
donde una vez estuve,
y yo ver nos
en la luz de días pasados
y caminamos poco tiempo
con la mano en la mano
El dominio del alma
Una noche cualquiera sin ningún motivo he visto la luna y me ha nacido escribir pero no se que hacer la verdad dejare que mi subconsciente me domine y escriba lo que quiera……..mi miedo al futuro……chico tranquilo que se podría describir de un poco inquieto se apacienta su cuarto pensando mirando al techo de su cuarto perdiéndose en su mente y piensa solo en que será de él el día de mañana y casi siempre terminan llorando por el hecho de no saber por dónde empezar…..el párrafo nos relata una escena muy corta pero con el significado más profundo posible, la palabra INQUIETO con la cual comenzamos es de dar ha entender no en la parte física no en la parte mental por el hecho que la mente siempre tiene que estar en movimiento para el en su subconsciente, CUARTO es el punto esencial de la escena por que hay es donde los jóvenes más en soledad se encuentran normalmente es el había esencia para el pensamiento profundo en pocas palabras la escena real TECHO jajaja como parte esencial el hecho de que el mirar y dejar que la mente tome control del cuerpo y todo se sitúe en la mente para dejarla dejarla florecer DIA DE MAÑANA sin inventar sin saber sin conocer sin poder hacer nada LLORANDO cada gota tiene un significado que comienza desde bloques más adentro y siempre termina en el suelo sin importar Que y te preguntaras? De qué servirá todo esto pues la percepción va deriva por el hecho de las palabras son comunes entre los jóvenes por el hecho que estar mejor en su habita que es lo único que lo hace sentir seguro y el alma actúa cuando la mente le da ese permiso absoluto por eso siempre nos dicen que las lágrimas caen cuando están solas y se dicen que no son lágrimas normales si no lagrimas atrapadas por el hecho de no poder ser una solo persona en su cuarto, el había, la soledad, el dolor y las lágrimas son esa entra al alma que todos quisiéramos que nos controlara
Frase del día
Si la verdad no te hace sentir en paz será mejor que te olvides de tu alma por el hecho que el alma es la forma espiritual más real y verdadera que puedes alcanzar o estar preparado para el dolor de la verdad o estas en la tranquilidad de la mentira esperando ha que llegue a su fin
5/04/2023 7:51 ??
Pedro, a slick, suave and smooth matador
The pride of his native-state, Ecuador
He'd flash his red cape
The bull would go ape
After each pass, the fans shouted, 'Encore!'
One time Pedro let the bull come too close
The crowd sat in stunned silence, comatose
Pedro may have been gored badly
Yet he still smiled most gladly
'Time for a new gig,' he said ~ 'Adios!'
I am of the land's green root
From branches of fragrant fruit
I am hills of daffodils
The grain to sustain old mills
I am the farmer's treasure
A line of corn to measure
I am of the land's green root
7/07/21
Elemental poetry contest
Sponsor: charles messina
Whispy fanstrokes
Magenta, sand
Blue adorns sky
Painted by God's hand
In few seconds
It changes to
Magenta dulled
By charcoal hue
Life also changes
From bright sand joy
To times of gray
'cause Satan annoys
God lifts one high
Clouds like angel
Wings adorn sky
Radiate El Shaddai