Best Rivera Poems
I have attempted to capture my favorite major league baseball players in this little shape poem of home plate. Included are (in no particular order):
Say Hey Willie Mays Walter Johnson (Big Train)
Randy Johnson (The Big Unit) Babe Ruth (The Sultan Of Swat)
Tony Gwynn Jimmie Foxx
Ted Williams Maury Wills
Stan “The Man” Musial Johnny Bench
Ken Griffey Jr Greg Maddox
Henry Aaron Lou Gehrig
Roberto Clemente Ty Cobb
Satchell Paige Ernie Banks
Rickey Henderson Carl Yastrzemski (Yaz)
Trevor Hoffman Albert Pujols
Gibson (Bob and Josh) Honus Wagner
Rogers Hornsby Cal Ripken
Robinson (Jackie, Frank and Brooks)
Some favorites I had to leave out…
Christy Mathewson Warren Spahn
Sandy Koufax Tom Seaver
Mickey Mantle Rod Carew
Joe Morgan Ozzie Smith
Mariano Rivera Miguel Cabrera
Pedro Martinez Ichiro Suzuki
David Ortiz Jose Altuve
I’d love to see your faves mentioned in the comments section!
written 24 Aug 2020
Tell me it isn't true
That he didn't hurt you too
Tell me that your not crying
Please tell me your lying
Why I ask you
Why I say
Why should this happen today
Onlt 13 years
Now we shead 13 tears
13 forever
Will my soul recover
My days and nights gets longer
Wondering if my days will get shorter
Feeling my heart getting heavy
The wish to hear his voice is driving me crazy
In loving memory Christopher Monte' Rivera
Where would I live if I were richest, and had all the money in the world?
Outside the square box, where no doors exist, and locks will never block
My entrance or exit, without four walls or framed bricked structure this
Is where I’d live and do now!
Again I’m asked where this address is, what fancy abode or country,
This location the French Rivera, or maybe even the city of romance Paris?
Nope none of these places will do for the likes of me, my substance
Is worth more than glitz’s and glamour allow, after all am I not
The richest person in the world?
I live within the valley of the thunder storms heartbeat, where flesh
And bone melt together as one unit, here passions lightning collide
Against the rocky torrent of desires epic flame,
Never to be extinguished or dowsed, by emotions ocean of doubt
Or regret!
But again these outsiders ask me once more but where, we’d like
To know, for we’ve never heard of such a place, give us the answer
To this riddle of yours Madame, for you are the richest person on
Earth the world must have the answer, as the paparazzi flash
Their gossiping, chattering, Cameras!
But these hungry mongers will never know the truth of the matter
At hand, for they’ve never experienced truth wealth of feeling,
Or valued anything but the almighty dollars golden card, of worthlessness!
Oh what an empty world, do these poor souls exist upon, a baron plain of
Dancing dollar signs, where false illusions seem real or tangible to the
Touch, but in reality are delusions images melting away, as time fades
The fame to the beauty factor unto nothing remains at all!
Nay I’m here in reality’s penthouse on high, beyond the fake staining of the
Smoke and mirrors game being played below, in this devotional residence
Without numbers!
For again the question was and is where would I live, if I had all the money
In the world, I’d live within the heart of this man whom dwells beside me,
He who’s sacrificed all for me, loved me always through thick and thin,
My shoulder of endurance and tenderness!
For what is true wealth my friend, but love itself my world begins
As his eyes open in the morning light, and ends when his close at night’s
Final twilight hour, where do I live within this man whom loves me!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
NOVEMBER 11, 2015
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY OF 55 THOMAS
Cinque Terre
by Edmund Siejka
We were in the Italian Rivera
A once in a lifetime trip
Hiking along the remote cliffs of Cinque Terre
Along narrow rock strewn paths
Barely wide enough
For goats.
We continued
Clinging to the cliffs of the coastline
Crossing over flimsy wooden bridges
Past vineyards
Olive groves
And lemon orchards.
Falls were common
I remembered
Simple rules of the trail
Look downward
Not up
Know where you are going
Make sure you can get back safely
Carefully we continued
Weighing every slippery rock
And stone
Before taking the next step.
When our guide stopped
I rested
In front of me
Splashed across
A deep blue horizon
Was the Mediterranean
Ancient as Homer’s Helen
And now a scene of tranquil emptiness.
We started again
Shifting our weight
Walking on our heels
Following the steep
Downward slope
Ending hours later
I was exhausted
Glad that it was over.
My sides ached
Every breath
A struggle
Forcing me to wonder
If I would ever cross this way again.
Help needed? Go fry none available here.
Even if you are very ill and disabled we do not care.
Look all we care about is your money!!
Loot to the bank for us, always another sucker down the road.
Help? What is that? We do not know what you are on about.
Of course we can send people to your villa to sort things out.
Let us take care of it they are on their way right now.
I and mum speak to two housekeepers dressed in aprons
Dear me they say we can not come in we can not deal with body fluids.
And off they go leaving a 87 year old lady to turn mattress and re-make bed.
Yes really. My cousin and his wife arrived and sorted things out.
All come here to stay we really do care
This is just a blip, oh you are upset? I do not understand why! (manager)
Please I think we did all we could. Really? how come you did sweet FA!!!
Everybody here is always happy. Few ever complain.
Really, only four separate people complained because you did not remove bags!!
Requested us to leave on porch for collection that was over 24 hours coming.
And this after I gave you a second chance after our disaster holiday in March.
Never again will I cross your threshold I have had it with you.
Such clavier treatment can not be ignored
All be warned by our experience and avoid Perran Sands in Cornwall
Next time I will go to Rivera Sands at Hayle they were wonderful to us.
Dear people in reception there bought me a bottle of wine for my birthday
So heed my warning and stay well clear or else you will regret your stay.
Diego Rivera’s Flower Carrier
My load to carry is backbreaking,
But this I must do to feed my family.
Down on all fours on the ground, I pray
For fairness in barter and my safe return home
From this capitalist enterprise I am engaging in.
My basket is laden to overflowing the brim
With the most beautiful flowers in all the land.
My woman helps me to my feet to begin
The journey to the mercado to sell our flores.
She, too, is strong like me, with strong hands.
Together, for survival and comfort in this life,
We labour, leaning on each other as a pillar
Through the impending toils of daily grind.
In quiet rectitude, we are satisfied knowing
That our Lord and Saviour Jesucristo will provide.
We pick the flowers at their peak
When the colours are their brightest
And their scents are the most invigorating.
One by one, we gently lay them
In the cesta de mimbre.
With every step and breath I take,
Their fragrances fill my nostrils,
And the unbearable becomes bearable,
Bringing relief to my aching back
And sandal-shodden feet.
How can I ask for more?
When I return, the joy on my family’s faces
For the money received from the sale
Provides the strength I require
To do this task over and over again
Until I am departed.
***
Notes:
“Diego Rivera’s Flower Carrier” is an ekphrastic poem based on the painting "The Flower Carrier" (1935) by Diego Rivera (1886–1957).
mercado: market
flores: flowers
Jesucristo: Jesus Christ
cesta de mimbre: wicker basket.
Jenni Rivera was her name. She came from a family
of singers. She was born in California. She came
from humble beginings. She was a young woman,
that reached stardom, fame and fortune, beauty
she already had.
She was a self made star. She started to get known
in 1993. She reached fame, because of her talent.
her songs were known everywhere. A lot of women
could identify with her.
Jenni had a lot of tribulations in her life, just like a
lot of us do, but she over came them, with her head
high. She never forgot who she was, or where she
came from. She would always take her kids to the
place where they lived, when they were little.
On December the 9th of 2012, she was in a plane
in Mexico with her crew to appear in another Concert
the next day. She never made it. The plane exploded
in mid air. For her family - it was devastating, for her
fans - it was a shock.
Jenni was a hard working young woman, that loved
her kids, her family and of course her fans, her people,
La RAZA, as she called us. On that fateful day, they
had a meeting that they couldn't miss. God had called
them home. Goodbye Jenni, through your songs - you
will live forever...
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
01/20/2012
153 Street Station is clean
Down sturdy metal steps through
old Yankee Stadium field
where Ruth and Gehrig ran.
Pungent in the nostrils piss follows me
Up the hill where supers sweep trash
from yesterday’s deals and conferences
Broom bucket hose black bags.
Mothers pull young children to school
Their Diego Rivera faces
Chisled by want from old world stone
Set in the new world promise.
Adamantine trek no stopping
Climbing past the fortress courthouse
Crowded Social Service building # 145 (meth clinic)
Halal vendors hawking pastries
A lady with a cell to her ear in the lime green tracksuit shouts:
“What the **** is he to me?
If I can do what he do why do I need him to do what he do?”
Two young Black men in braids, swaying gold,
Pants down low wide-striding in step as they go,
“ Nigga says I got to stand a long time in that line. Whose line?
That’s his line not my line.
I ain’t standin’ in no long line”.
“Word”.
Crossing to the bodega on Morris Ave
where mi amor Juana takes my dollar twenty five
for the Schweppes Lemon-Lime
brushing by the bacon-egg-and-cheese-kids
pigeons pecking dirt
Up three flights to room 322 where
Students ask for pencils
while they tinker with the hardware on the windows.
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His curveball’s so tight
Yankee Fan
Be it Clemens, Mussina or Meyers
Pettitte, Rivera, Villone
He’s willing to bet on his pitcher
Especially if pitching at home
Jeater – now he’s really something
And A Rod – no equal is found
They cover the left in the infield
And Boy! How they cover that ground
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His fastball is so out of sight
Yankee Fan
Pin stripes are high fashion to him
Even fat guys look kind of slim
With the pants ending just at shin
In fashion they always win
He’s been in the House that Ruth Built
He’d sit there though heat made him wilt
He’s loyal without any guilt
He’s Yankee clean up to the hilt
Team roster? He knows every man
The batboy? He’ll name him – he can
This isn’t some fair weather fan
George Steinbrenner – yea – He’s da man
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His slider is simply a fright
Yankee Fan
Sure there’s work to be done by this evening
There are papers to read and to write
And it’s early but still he is leaving
The Yankees are playing tonight!
Who’s pitching today?
Doesn’t matter – no way
Yanks are playing hooray!
Yankee Fan!
I have fallen in love with a winged dragon alebrijes,
Have to buy it of course, is it signed?
What artisian created this piece of bright gorgeousness?
I look for a signature.
This phantasmagorical creature has none.
No matter.
She is from Oaxaca, the ultimate home of the alebrijes.
Pedro Linares had a fever in the 1940’s.
His fever dreams turned into fantastical creatures.
Made first of papier-mache, painted in Zapotec patterns
Circles, dots and stripes.
Did he know he was starting something big
when he made up the word alebrijes?
Colorful folk art made more famous by
artisians like Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera and Arturo Cabellero
Alebrijes are hybrid creatures carved in wood, painted in
bright colors.
Representing animal totems or familiars,
they are part of the pop culture of Day-of-the-dead parades.
Horns representing earth, wings representing air,
fins representing water and dragons representing fire.
It makes sense I am completely drawn to the winged dragon.
You brighten my day
Showin' me my direction
You're comin' to me
And givin' me inspiration
How can i ask for more
From you my dear
Maybe just a smile in your
(maybe just a smile in your heart)
You brighten my day
Showin' me my direction
You're comin' to me
And givin' me inspiration
How can i ask for more
From you my dear
Maybe just a smile in your heart
Give me a smile in your heart.
Okay ito na to, yung conclusion, hehe. Adik lang ako noh? Kung anu-ano pa yung naiisip ko.. kung dati, pasmile-smile, tapos pakilig-kilig, ano kaya susunod? ? One thing’s for sure, MAY UNDERSTANDING NA TAYO. ? Kung ano man label natin, MASAYA TAYO. ? Thank you, bigla kang dumating sa buhay ng churang ito, hindi man natin pinagplanuhan, siguro si GOD na ang nagdikta.. ? sana maiintindihan pa natin lalo yung isa’t-isa. Dalawa tayo sa relasyong to. Marami na tayong napagdaanan, at marami pang dadating. Kaya nating dalawa to. ? Aayusin natin. ? Thank you michurz ko. ? mwah* *hugs* I AM VERY PROUD OF YOU!!
PS: This is a song by Ariel Rivera. I just quoted this. This is not my piece. thanks.
If I were to frenchify myself
I would walk more often
Maybe to work.
It is only twenty-seven miles.
But how would I get over the river?
Would I want to walk on
Interstate bridges?
If I were to frenchify myself
I would wear a jaunty red beret
perched on my head at an angle while I paint.
People would smile and say
“I did not know she was French” and
my Irish self would smirk.
If I were to frenchify myself
I would lose eighty pounds and
eat vegetables and maybe a fruit.
I would make love on the Rivera
and speak all of my French words.
French toast, French kissing, and FrenchFries.
Punished because I was
Underage and drinking.
Not the fault of my friends.
It's my FAULT!
The car crashed
In flames and ended in a
Very powerful
Explosion!
Tore my heart open too many times
Committed such love crimes
Lost my love in a cross fire
Wondering why his life had to expire
Chris was his name
Chris was the reason they called him lame
Spent his life in sorrow
Though buried in a shallow grave
Engraved in stone Christopher Monte' Rivera
There once was a way that i knew so well
That when I walked it I never fell
But how dear to me was that old familiar road
there it was day after day as I carried my load
It took me there and it took me here
But it never told me how things were clear
That it loved me back when I was near
It took me to places far and in between
To fantasy and fairy lands none else could have seen
This road grew up with me and let me choose my course
Whether it be right or wrong it knew my source
It knew I would choose right for it had known me
No twist and turns just straight ahead I could see.
I reached the end of the road where I waved goodbye.
Reaching my home with a smile and a sigh.
Jose A Rivera
Copyright ©2007 Jose A. Rivera