Best Los Poems
polishing pieces
fragments of a broken brain
spinning poetry
MagiCicada17
Die Scherben des Lebens lassen sich nicht kitten. (German)
The shards of the life cannot be cemented. (English)
Los fragmentos de la vida no se puede enmasillar. (Spanish)
Les éclats de vie ne peu pas être à nouveau ensemble. (French)
I frammenti di vita non può essere di nuovo insieme . (Italian)
Die skerwe van die lewe kan nie weer saam wees. (Afrikaans)
Ang mga tipak ng buhay ay hindi maaaring simentuhin. (Tagalog)
Cioburile vietii nu pot fi cimentat. (Romanian)
After we met
I thought we really had something,
Really hit it off.
It wasn’t the words we spoke,
The easy fluorescent trail they made.
Maybe it was the Japanese lantern
Glowing over your bare shoulder
Or the smile you threw
To the side-
To someone.
Or maybe it was the cool damp air,
Slight seduction of rain
But no rain.
Perfect, cool molecules,
Layer on layer,
Air sitting on air.
But after, I couldn’t find you.
I couldn’t find you
In the heavy-sitting valleys,
Behind the cool barriered hedges
With stone guard dogs,
In the palm shadowed boulevards
Or the canyon mazes.
I couldn’t find you
In the final exhalations of space,
On sun baked, cracked cement plaza drives.
I couldn’t find you
In the starkly lined avenues
Amongst the serious-expressioned manikins.
It really is a desert here, huh?
Had said the pale cheeked waiter from Wisconsin
While we waited for you to come back.
Yes, I thought, touching the sweating water glass.
A stage set in a desert
Filled with mirages and promises
And doors that no one answers
And roads that curve toward the sun.
We both knew you weren’t coming back.
I won’t find you again
But I will keep looking
And looking
And looking.
There is always that chance.
Yes, to find someone like you.
That chance.
I leave alone,
Tip under plate.
A dog barks at my steps,
Waits, barks again.
We are both close,
Yet impossibly,
Far from home.
SONNET FOR LOS CAMPITOS TEAM
Orinoco flow to Andean peaks, the nation
Protests the chaos suffering and pain
Yet once more you young pilgrims made migration
To this distant shore from 'cross the Spanish Main
Not for refuge nor self-centred better life
But to represent beloved land with pride
Led with wisdom toward victory over strife
By a princess of the Nile who was your guide *
So let striving for success that's in your essence
Be revitalised once more for your return
Taking back with you your drive and luminescence
To a country seeking light for which it yearns
Your inspiring dedication may avail a
New resurgence and bring hope to Venezuela
* Her name: Aida
Dream girl
dream of life
In this deep pale night
I open to you my soul
I wish to share
this mystery called love
Imagine a love
alive and radiant
Larger than life
an endless blue sky
Blessed would be
the earth, the sun
the air we breathe
All of this
just because you are alive
All the wounds
of past loves
would disappear
into setting sun
We would go
much further
into this pale night
Where the sighs
of lovers echoes
reverberating around us
You the nocturnal flower
standing in the shadows
I would open sweetly
my life to you....
There are many good people from Hollywood. Hollywood is a working class district of L.A. (1 of 42 districts). Celebs don't live there which includes the Epstein ilk. Bad people are all over the place, especially the Red States and their people who voted for the bad leaders. There are bad dictators all over the world, repressing the women, not just in America. I've never heard of KKK members in Hollywood, I have in the Maga States. Let's not bundle all people in Hollywood, that is ignorance!
A good Ambassador Hollywood, to the world along with Jazz music, Hollywood movies, with their dazzling musicals, bright comedies, and intense dramas, and Si Fi, has been the dream maker for the world! Even those working in the movie industry were by and large hard working Americans. Glamorous actors just a tip of the ice berg. For those conservatives, they should remember Regan was a product of Hollywood. Thank you very much.
Viva la Cordillera de los Andes by Nicanor Parra, Translated by T. Wignesan
Long Live! The Andes Mountain Range!
I’m seized with a mad rage to yell
long live the Andes Mountain Range
may the Costa Mountain Range lie low slain
The reason I can hardly divine
but I can’t hold myself back:
Long Live! The Andes Mountain Range!
May the Costa Mountain Range lie low slain!
For forty full years now
I’ve wanted to step over the horizon,
go far beyond the limitations of my myopia,
but I just didn’t dare.
Now, by no means, Gentlemen
is there an end to my ratiocinations:
Long Live! The Andes Mountain Range!
May the Costa Mountain Range lie low slain!
Have they heard what I said?
There’s an end to my ratiocinations!
Long Live! The Andes Mountain Range!
May the Costa Mountain Range lie low slain!
Doubt there’s none over my lack of response
if they sever my vocal chords
(in such a case as this
it’s almost certain they will)
well, if they do stifle my voice
I would like to say I have no choice
but to accept the dashing of my very last hope.
I am a merchant
indifferent to the positions of the sun
a professor clad in green-coloured trousers
who comes apart drop by drop as dew
an insignificant bourgeois is what I am
in what way do red clouds matter to me?
Nevertheless I appear on balconies
in order to shout out what I offer:
Long Live! The Andes Mountain Range!
May the Costa Mountain Range lie low slain!
Pardon me if I’m going out of my mind
while in the garden made by Nature
but I have to keep shouting till death:
Long Live! The Andes Mountain Range!
May the Costa Mountain Range lie low slain!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
An inebriated vixen promoted duress
as she and George played "Get the Guests."
A fractured malevolence mirroring Macbeth
resulted in her first-born's death.
Atop his imagined coffin, a snapdragon rests.
Author's Note:
Vignette inspiration:
Play - Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1962)
Playwright - Edward Albee
City across the water, night by violet aurora
Los Angeles, we're further south than I thought (than we should be)
I take a strewn-bark trail to get a better view
Hand me the camera, Polaroids in quick succession (when is this?)
It's not quite capturing it, never the depth of field we need
Daybreak (remembering, there's no bay in LA)
Scores of Chinese workers emerge from pores in pagodas
Hauling, cleaning, young mean men, old pig-tailed women, children too small to see clearly
Faces are rusty, resolutely worn
I can zoom in but can't get there from here
Night again, back on the trail
A man appears from the palm brush behind
Could pass for a 1930s Okie hobo; faded salmon shirt, crushed felt hat
Something in his beard
He just wants to feel the lights and see the palms
Gunshots, on my side of the water
Okie flees, I hear whispers, overlapping
This is good stuff, though unnerving
I should be writing this down
Ushered from the scene, to somewhere I didn't expect to be
Vor den Augen der Nacht
Verschwimmt die Einsamkeit
So ganz tränenlos
---------------------------------------
The loneliness blurrs
In front of the eyes of the night
Completely without tears
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Antes de los ojos de la noche
Se desvanesce la soledad
Así sin lágrimas
Living in the city of lights
One among many Angels in flight
Souls that connect, artists we are
Always a place to converse with a star
Never boring or lonely because
Gravity pulls us together with buzz
Everything moving in fast pace
Life is simply a beautiful race
Engraved in my heart this city I love
Sunshine and diamonds and friends in my land.
A land of beauty art and aspirations
The most exciting place to take vacations.
BERLIN AIRLIFT .1948-49
You came into my life one summer's day
the beatnik of a Frauline, caring less
of what society might have to say
than seeking out your inner happiness;
those were the days! Berlin was in a bind
you still had all your tan from South of France
and in your hair, what flowers you could find
but not dressed out for love, it came by chance.
"What's going on?" you said, as our eyes met,
suggesting I might think the same as you,
you seemed just as surprised as I, and yet,
it seemed so natural, the bonding grew.
As freedom roared down from uncertain skies
love came into our world, from where love flies.
The roar of engines fell from overhead
as pilots dropped into that world of yours,
delivering your life--your daily bread,
to show you when it rains, it surely pours;
all your emotions mixed, I caught the feel
you had, that maybe life was fit to live,
you pinched yourself to see if it was real
and still the sky gave out all it could give.
The ships were ev'rywhere--hope made it's call
as my faint heart fell to the will of you,
der Kempf, 'twas ended then, once and for all,
and now you'd see what only love can do.
your question--was ist los--what's going on?
was answered in that break of early dawn.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Underneath the stars and moon,
cast the runic stones tonight,
invoke the ancient spirits
with fires lit for magic rite.
We claver with all lost souls,
and cajole in joyful voice
of fiestas for the dead
the year ahead songs rejoice
As the Sun God bids farewell,
in darkness dwells 'til winter's birth,
and light returns in Yule's fete,
celebrate across the Earth.
The besoms sweep the home free
of malignant deeds and thought
upon the dawn of the year
with no fear we start with naught.
So charge the glass, take a drink,
on the brink of old and new
the dead shall dance for awhile
and Samhain smiles upon you.
Mountains glow like amber
As being lit by an eternal fire
The sun sets slowly
Andean peaks embedded in clouds
Shadows spread on ancient sands
Berge glühen wie Bernstein
Wie durch ein ewiges Feuer entfacht
Die Sonne geht langsam unter
Anden Gipfel eingebettet in Wolken
Schatten ergießen sich auf altem Sand
Las montañas brillan igual al ámbar
Como encendido por un fuego eterno
El sol se pone despacito
Picos de Andes empotrados en nubes
Las sombras se desaguan en antigua arena
Around the corner in an alley
Behind a run-down diner
On a nameless Los Angeles street
Two strangers converge slowly on
The appointed location where
Their mutual connection set a meet
On their first point of contact
An explosive reaction that
Produced something violent and divine
They continued their encounters
Coupling, colliding, entwining, dividing
Nearly every day of aught nine
Like every age of greatness
The trysts gradually abated
Until the two hardly met at all
Behind a run-down diner
On a nameless corner
A memorial in graffiti on the wall
May 26, 2017