Best Franco Poems
It broke her heart
when Franco died
he’d been her soul mate
wed over fifty years
he’d been her life
For her Franco
she had a ritual
lit a candle every night
so he would know
how much she missed him
Today would be a special day
she felt it when she closed her eyes
wouldn’t be lighting any candle
she took her one last breath
set down the path to join her Franco
AP: 2nd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2021
A galaxy
lives within me
through sky’s marquee
my heart beholds
one earth’s design—
as moon, lake twine
in peace, I shine
from heaven's mold.
Desiderata Contest--nette onclaud
Franco Gonza 7 Dec 2014
The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life pummels us from side to side
randomly dictating its capricious ways
lacking logic the tossing grips us and seeks to take our lives
Death, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes and expresses a tale of coldness and desolation
under the guise of light the dues it extracts from the living
accumulate like wrinkles on our faces the years pile on
The uncertainty of pandemics sends people into despair
mental frenzy engulfs societies
people wring their hands with worry
what happens if I get sick and lose my income?
At night I hear the sound of eighteen wheeler trucks rumbling
On the blacktop toward companies that make copious profits
past the foothills where coyotes cry nature's lament
exacerbating my approach to a precarious and worrisome future
Sometimes, I feel like a watermelon cut in half
exposed to the desert heat slowly drying up
or a taco at Christmas time or a paraplegic in a footrace
exposed in those places where I don’t belong
Leisure time for the working stiff is so elusive
yet now all I’ve got is time and plenty of it,
but there’s no leisure in it only worry
and does not give me needed rest
The yaws of life
seldom deviate from its variant course
but like ships at sea rising and falling in a tempest
our minds proceed at an ambiguous yet dangerous speed
With our hearts frozen in a delirium of past disappointments
they vanish the happy times into the ether of regrets
still we cling to those cherished happy time memories
when Life was more accepting of our youthful indiscretions
Our Ship of Life moves predictably toward an unknown horizon
unsteadily shaking us from side to side, up and down
like loose apples bobbing in an ocean
with our paths uncertain unfolding as we hold on.
Copyright © norberto franco cisneros
(The scene from Movie Ulzhan, Drama/German screened at 2007 Festival de Cannes)
( English Style)
I met, Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
He travelled a lot and the words he sold.
I met, Shakuni, in a foreign land.
Sold words like “Moksha” an Indian word
Meaning a peaceful death without bad deeds
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words.
I met Shakuni,in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
In words“O.K., Ciao,” not interested
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land.
He liked “saudade”, the Portuguese word
Meaning melancholy, longing andlove
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words.
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
Sold “Dharma” duty and law combined
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
Sold“Tarof” an Iranian word,
Meaning to refuse something of wishes
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
==================================
Honorable Mention
Contest : The Troilet Movie scene of Andrea Dietrich
*Shakuni is a character in the Movie Ulzhan. Une Coproduction Franco-Germano-Kazakh.
*Shakuni is a villainous character in the Hindu Epic Mahabharata. Shakuni, a Sanskrit
word means a cheat, very skilled in playing dice.
Oh yes, the college girls
come and go
speaking of Ani De Franco.
And yes, I too
measure out my days
with coffee spoons,
a hundred years later
and nothing has changed,
only the numbers of the dead
and the deranged
have increased exponentially
with deadly technology.
Like the Caesars of old
the power brokers of now
stamp out the vestiges
of an older order.
And yes, i sit like an elderly sentry
on the cusp of two centuries
and views of the world expecting
nothing better
than what has come before.
And yes, oh yes, seeing the gullibility
and the tomfoolery
of a world where you can be convinced
with very little effort
that up is down and that
right is left holding the bag repeatedly
and speaking ever more deletedly
to fewer and fewer ears.
What has changed?
What has changed except the names
used to describe the same old games
of a gang of aggressive primates.
Some are cannon fodder
used to divert the lion
and parade and preen
when they are lucky to escape.
Some are keen
to produce more spawn
so that we can do the same
old con again.
Some are at the center
protected and gifted
by a willing populace,
unwilling to risk
their own neck
as long as some one else will.
And some, with rolled up trousers
sit on the edge knowing
what is right
but lacking the will
to say so
and creating for ourselves
the post of sentry
to ease the burden
of a nagging conscience.
Just sitting here
watching the college girls
come and go
speaking of Ani DeFranco.
Nunca fue mi intención decepcionarte
perdoname porque a tiempo no pude contestarte
ahnelaba el poder verte y estar contigo
abrazarte y besarte y ser tu abrigo
Se que eres algo impaciente y no quiero causarte estres
y quizas pienses que todo regrese a la normalidad si ya no me vez
pues segun tu estoy contribuyendo a tus problemas
tu vida estaba en orden y yo quebré ese esquema
Baby yo no estoy pa' esto pues a pesar de todo aun te amo
pongo mis cartas sobre la mesa siendo contigo franco
quieres definir nuestra relacion con claridad
entonces saquemos a la luz lo que hemos hecho en la oscuridad
Si mi presencia no es lo que tu corazón desea
mejor me alejo sin que nadien me vea
y asi dejo de ser un estorbo mas en tu vida
ahora tienes tu tranquilidad a costillas de una despedida
Que feo seria que todo terminara de esta manera
y todo porque me enamoré de una mujer que no era soltera
si tiempo es lo que quieres para poner en orden tus pensamientos
haslo para que luego no andes con arrepentimiento
Lo hecho ya hecho está y no hay manera de cambiar el pasado
mientras tu lo amas a él yo sigo aun esperanzado
pero no quiero ser la razon por la cual dividas tu corazon y mente
y aunque llegara a volver a tener tu cuerpo eso nunca va hacer suficiente
Amor, considera este poema como una carta de amor
sacrificando mi felicidad me hago a un lado y me llevo mi dolor
me aparto de la senda de tu vida para que puedas tener paz
recordando aquellos bellos momentos que vivimos tiempo atras
Con el corazon en la mano te dijo todo esto
pues ahora todo mi amor se resume en un solo verso
gracias por haberme permitido amarte con tanta intensidad
en mi corazon siempre te llevaré por si algun dia decides regresar.
mind still on his work
he picks up the ringing phone
on instinct---
the way he reaches for his lover
before opening his eyes
Tanka 3: Return to TOP TEN - Poetry Contest - Shared 4th Place with Franco Gonza
Sponsor : Andrea Dietrich
25 March 2015
Flatulent Franco from France frequently farts
Fetid foul fetor fumes fill French foyers
Francophile females feign fainting
Fanning flatus from frowning faces!
Alliteration Contest
Sponsored by Barry Stebbings
11-27-17
A truant blizzard's hurl allowed shadows hide
when the night was pale. And all the dark ravens yelled
as I buried my cat, last year, frozen and dead. That all
the lilies of in between, wailed of my Christmas eulogy.
For the contest, A Christmas Memory,
Sponsor, Broken Wings
Nov 21, 2015
From Franco Gonza
Housework
Big jerk
Contest of Judy Konos
One Footle Only
From Franco Gonza/ 8.Jul.15
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXVI
IF you pull that long-besieged face
Back and forth to Brussels in Brexit bob-sleigh
Deal or No-Deal backstop Customs excise nor phase
EU patience and make jingle-bells rein deer neigh
If you pull that plucky long face
You risk boxing the Left's adamant Brexit-Deal ear
" EYES " to the Right " NOSE " to the Left " have it " put Westminster grace out-of-place
No argument on amendments " PROSIT " with Franco-German beer
Then if you pull that long disfigured face
The Celts will with Scots not in English parley
To invite reigning Norman to fly in the face into Brexit space
Not mind you on skis past Omaha Beach and Isle Guernsey
Yet if you continue to pull that long-merited face
Even Roman legions will over-run the Charlemagne Gaul face rightaway
To watch Nero blitz-krieg London while May souffle sur les braises
Won't even a Nobel Peace Prize entice a ditch-Brexit May
If you must then pull a long-stymied face
Carve Britain out add a STAR to the Star-Spangled pot-pourrée
Let the Scots the Irish and the Welsh in gaelic discourse
While gentlemanly Six Nations Cup supplant Super Bowl rough play
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 29, 2019
for Jean Franco ?(March 15, 1907- April 15, 1992)
I
They opened his abdomen
found what they were not looking for though half-expected to see ?polyps enormous cancerous mush in lieu of and the rest that had given out on him
They said: if we had known we wouldn't have torn into his tripes?to see even the sample test told us as much but we did it for him he so wanted it done now we merely have to wait and see just how long it would take him to conk out without solid food to pass from his newly-grafted conduit
He was completely in their hands and hung on to their lips their every nod their plans for him and the use he had for their apprentis chirugiens sorciers
He kept his anger for his friends family telephone operators the aide-soignantes those he could intimidate with his age for he didn't know what they knew they wouldn't feel the hurt the slight for long the rankling umbrage sans riposte
He didn't mind all the inconvenience the constant waking to pass water the secluded room without tv without his wife to take it out on without the means to exude his usual referee's contempt of rules
In their hands he was the meek inept thing pleading with his eyes his entire body bent to their gaze of wonder of why he would so question going now then or even a little later
(Continued in Part Two)
Mary was the poetess
who loved handsome Franco,
the tall Neapolitan orchestra leader;
and in Naples they met:
at The Galleria Umberto,
under the surveillance of my father...
Mary was barely eigtheen,
and writing was her only passion;
even her big, hazel eyes were
as light as the Tyrannean Sea in summer,
somehow too melanchonic as a fading moon,
which longed more for a friend than a lover!
Her first song was recorded in Milan, with a brilliant
production of composer Angelo Camis;
that song became quite popular in Capo D'Istria,
and in all the booth-shaped Italian Peninsula!
Ermanna Melli from the city of Forli was the artist
with that mellow, sensual and expressive voice!
" What's this desire? " a delicate and spontaneous love song,
captured a large audience, both young and old...
it was a song telling of the emotions of a young heart too naive,
falling in love with someone much older that she was, indeed;
and it made many people cry, perhaps recalling the time
they fell for someone as special and gorgeous as Mary's dream guy!
Mary, your song still plays on the airwaves of that radio station and although
you no longer sing it in the manner of a famous virtuoso: the visions
of your past life become too real as you performed it by surprise;
it is the jewel you left on earth for us to remember you by,
and it immesely dazzles like every rainbow in the Capri's sky...
when an unknown tenor improvises his impassioned aria with an absolute sorrow!
Mary was the poetess who dedicted her time
writing about love, but never found it in reality;
she was my oldest sister inspiring me with her creativity!
Mary had the potential of becoming great and shine,
but the tides turned abruptly and fate wasn't kind:
even today, her fearless voice comes alive through her poetry!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Gravitational waves
some have put down to Kimbrel, his multiple saves
but Oso el Blanco
achieved much the same when he took out John Franco.
(Dedicated to the memory of my mother Catherine who died June 3, 2011 and was
buried June 24, 2011)
Sleep. Wake. Sleep
Sleep on empty stomach
Food and liquor make the journey
Eat, make Epicurus laugh double for once
Holiness! Is it not about angels and fruits
Eden has grapes and bitters
The tempters line the trees
And chirpy birds blow the flutes
The tempers with long tales and the dragon
There is a golden chair and a golden crown
And a bsket of flowers waiting to waive you in
There the master's table you'll see in the morning
Ulcer and glaucoma have no role to play
So you must eat, launch
And lunch to roost
There Grace waits for his owns
If indeed in the father's house there are many mansions
Why could Richman not easily find a room
Sone, from the master's table think
Analyze, princilpize, study and report
Stone, think as you walk around the dais
Analyze as you sleep. Principlize
Sleep and Sleep
Then look back, look to the corners
Look at the dome and compare with heavensgate
Take note the colors of the priests here and compare
See the dark waters, you did not see there before
See your scions on the front seats
See me, Franco, with the cross of attrition
Flung on me by brothers and sister
See the masquerades, musketeers
See my men dressed in raffia for this Elizbethan epic
See the men of the nights and those of the days
Filed on the right and on the left with Infant Terrible
See the near monks minus opportunity
Hiding their faces and long ghoulish tales
Rolling out muted laughter or pardon
Singing accustomed sonorous tunes for the great
See our uncles sibblings whose finest tears I never saw until now
See the candor and the incenses that have prevailed
Are these not enough comets that the Lord rewards
Yes. So then, the sound of the trumpets
The trumpeters are your seeded three clans
Charging the heavens in swaggers
Blazing forth, in pomps celebrating life
Dancing this same song of homecoming
For Stone, the cornerstone of many parts
Cargo of our latest argosy
Berthed at the Terminal. Farewell mum.