Best Tagus Poems
I walk my life, a subway station
Where dirt consorts
The air around.
It pounds my nape,
It flames my mind
With sights and fates
And sounds.
Above, a tram goes up the alley
Tinged with canary hue.
Below, my wit:
What void, what valley:
It sank, in Tagus mused.
I take a seat, doors screech behind.
O, what wondrous whiffs?
Of metal beams
Attriting loudly
Against metal wheels?
To a halt it cuts my chain of thought,
Rivals my dream, they brawl.
'Tis from the gallery
Of broken hope
The beggar man crawls.
Intemperate horns his entry announce,
Dysphoric scenes aground.
He comes detuned
Near clears his throat,
Lethargic voice resounds:
I beat my cane
In wrongful rhythm,
'Cause wrongful
Was my life.
My voice hurts from
All this singing:
'Twas morphed into
A sigh.
I longed, I longed
For all my sinning
Was ought to be repaid.
Deserved so much,
God took my
Will, my sight,
My love, my
Name.
So tell me, vagrant,
What did He take?
-Said I-
Who has loved you?
What is your will,
What name did you go by?
I used to be a man of soul
Whose heart beat strong and dign,
I used to write
And then I died
On the 10th before July.
He took my coins for all my service
At wars:
At land
At sea
-The waves still have her,
Laying there still,
Waiting away from me!-
Said he-
I will my love,
My fire, passion
-My young Natercia!-
Most darling of all nymphaea!
So God is just after all,
Replacing sin with grief.
No need for me
To pay the man:
God has done the deed.
The deadbeat coins of his cup
Turmoil ever so slightly.
I leave my dream,
Doors shrill again:
'Tis time to end my journey.
What a timeless charm Lisbon is
Meticulously set on the face
Of seven hills with eyes
That overlook the Tagus River.
The narrow, winding streets
Tell a story of a culture so distinct
Different in many ways but hung on a single straw
Like the pieces of every cobblestone on the floor.
The sweet sea wind, in every swing
Breathes life into Fado music
Songs of old, worn sailors
Longing for a halt to the complexities of life.
Lisbon City is indeed a charm
Adorned with vibrant street art
That blends modernity and historic depth
A solemn dance to every footstep.
Snoopy, kewpie, Barbie, Ken,
Chicken-licken, Hen-len,
Can’t compete with Adrienne.
Andrew Jackson, William Penn?
“Bolero”, “Arthur”, “Tarzan”, “Ten”?
Not a patch on Adrienne.
My Adrienne’s a honey:
She’s witty, pretty, funny:
looks great in silks and satins
and mixes mean Manhattans.
Tagus, Tiber, Severn, Seine,
zloty, sous, sestertii, yen -
I prefer my Adrienne.
Armstrong, Aldrin, Colonel Glenn?
Zoroaster? Zion? Zen?
Think I’ll stick with Adrienne!