Best Viva Poems
VIVA LA ELVIS
In Tupelo Mississippi, twin baby boys were born,
To Gladys and Vernon Presley, but sadly one passed on.
They named him Jesse Garon, their hearts so full of pain,
And then came Elvis Aaron, a breath of sweet refrain.
One heart beating for the two, their spirits intertwined;
To restore faith and hope and joy to dear ones left behind.
Elvis grew from babe to boy his heart set on a goal,
From boy to man to legend; The King of Rock n’ Roll.
He lived in humble dwellings, his Pa his Ma and he;
Playing his guitar, singing songs, pure golden melodies.
Country, Gospel, Blues and Jazz the rhythms of the soul,
And Rock n’ Roll, the very core of hearts both young and old.
While rising up to stardom, his pelvis did he swing;
Some church folk banged the gavel to crucify ‘The King’.
Their efforts came to nothing, as fans from near and far,
Surged on with huge momentum, to win that holy war.
So once again he stood there, gyrating at his will,
Until the day he heard a call that made those hips stand still.
Called to serve his country, the nation’s rising star,
And while along that journey, he sadly lost his Ma.
On the first of May, a bride’s bouquet, a blush of summer wine,
Elvis wed Priscilla; his beautiful fraulein.
Soaring in her lover’s arms on the wings of destiny,
Nine months later they were blessed with gorgeous Lisa Marie.
The happiness they shared together wrapped in melody;
Like a poet’s dream, a symphony, a lover’s rhapsody.
Then fate stepped in and dealt a blow that tore the dream apart,
And in its wake it left a trail of tears and broken hearts.
‘The King’, on stage and silver screen, he took the world by storm,
A real hunk of burning love in a GI uniform.
He rocked the house to loud applause, he played the matador,
And danced with pretty Hula girls in the Hawaiian sunset glow.
August 16, ’77 was the day ‘The King’ had died,
But forever lives the Legend, born on 8/1/35.
His mamma smiled and gently beckoned to her second born,
While holding close the one she’d lost that fateful winter’s morn.
The joy he brings to us down here can never be replaced,
Though many keep on trying in vain to fill the empty space.
His spirit fills all Graceland, to watch o’er kith and kin,
In the Heavenly sounds of Dixieland … I hear God joining in.
Elaine Randolph
Copyright ©2009 Elaine Randolph
My France, My France
How I weep for you
these tears are not of joy,
for you have let the enemy in,
they brought disaster to your shores.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
The pain you must endure.
For all those dead have,
come to you under burdening
skies.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
Who has put you through this Hell?
It has no face,
I cannot tell,
It's here in space,
the Dawning was its place.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
Your skies have turn to Black
The Peace and Security you seek,
has now suddenly turned its back.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
My tears are not of joy
I pray for you,
my heart opens too.
You may find Peace within.
When your dead are buried and
your revenge has its reward
Come together
Powers of Faith
Come together
Almighty hand and rest upon us
from this mighty land.
Give us your Peace.
We ask thee now
Give us your Peace
We ask how?
My France, My France
How I weep for you
In time of trouble,
what is it can you do?
Your borders closed
turmoil enclosed
The sadness fills the air.
For Peace is fleeting,
The enemy has come there.
Your golden arch is dim.
Your Eiffel black with sin
The City of Lights
are in the shadows for his mighty
hand has struck.
Peace you may ask,
Revenge your reward.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
For can we say, no more, no more.
Such a spiteful petulant bloated fake
Waterways’ names aren’t for you to take
With hubris your guide
Set your golf clubs aside
And go jump in your rechristened lake!
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
Message in a...Hic-up!...reddish bottle
I popped up the cork - installed a throttle
My mouth is now sore
Sour grapes - galore
I woke in Las Vegas as Ms. Pottle...(?!?)
6/21/2011
for Francine Roberts' Contest "Bottle of Wine,( fruit of the vine, when........) "
Wide World of Sports televises a political assassination
from San Marcos, a tiny Latin American nation.
When the president dies, a dictator comes into position.
He takes complete control, and wants to subdue opposition.
Introducing Fielding Mellish: a product tester from New York.
This guy is sex-starved, and a completely nerdish dork.
Along comes a political activist who catches his fancy.
Wanting Fielding to sign her petition, her name is Nancy.
Mellish falls in love, and a relationship ensues.
Nancy changes her plans, and poor Fielding will lose.
Mellish decides to travel to that Latin American country.
There will be so many ridiculous situations we will see.
Are you curious to learn how this story will turn out?
Watch the video. You will find it entertaining without a doubt.
Based on the 1971 film "Bananas" starring Woody Allen
The revolutionary creates revolutions:
In the silence of the dark night.
And the fresh dawn light.
With the hope to make life right.
By the means of a violent fight.
his heraldic crest
a donger and yarbles rampant
upon a field of clover
it was a stone slab of course
donated by a few eggheads in exile
his best friends were his orgasms
shall we redefine the human condition
my guru continued you are tied to your weenie
with many rivers to cross it's all a river
float like a butterfly etc.
his heels had wings goat wings
danced on their way to work
there's an idea lurking in here somewhere
from the lurking transcendental government
standing guard between the seen and the unseen
try not to bleed so much boys digitize instead
this is a novelty sing along tune
warbled by two adolescent chimps
nearly inaudible and the crowd
groaned at the strain
booed uncompromisingly off stage
calling taxi taxi taxi in the rain
played all the frequencies at once
could have led to open rebellion
but instead was hailed a master of definitions
make of it what you wish
there was nothing left to do
but go bowling on rockabilly night
while madmen comics kept us ROTFLMAO
with astounding feather and glue tricks
so that his work could have
an interplanetary dimension
utterly without consequence
like quacking at the stock exchange
nonetheless many saw stars and flying saucers
for maybe ten minutes
the whore press wouldn't touch it
and retired from the drapery business
it's up to us to steer this sucker
down the Grapevine and find parking
where our epic turns right on Main St.
BBQ skewers swished in the starlight
yes he was a romantic and a romanticist
Pushing the Topic up Through the Earth
was the pamphlet's title
where this goes on the graph
is anyone's guess
take it line by line
of course it was more fun
not being a target
I am but an orphan foundling sir
and that ended that
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/
VIVA – FATHER OF A RAINBOW NATION
Nelson Mandela, what a man,
What an icon, what a wise politician,
Even though he was in prison for
A 27 year span,
Held no grudges, or hate, just wanted
No segregation, he went on a mission,
To make sure that as a father of his nation,
He would achieve just that!
Free at last, locked away for so
Many years of his life
He walked amongst a sea of cheering,
People, next to Winnie his wife!
He was forgiving,
Despite been jailed,
For all those years.
Mandela’s beloved South Africa had never
Known democracy and had miserably failed,
He went forward with an intentional stride,
Charismatic and determined,
He was esteemed for his pride!
The Mandela presidency was known
As an era,
Loved by his people, together they grew
Dearer and nearer.
He was a humanitarian, got the Nobel Prize for
His peaceful transition, FW De Klerk also got
The Nobel Prize.
They stood side by side,
Two dynamic politicians who had changed
South Africa’s political tide!
President Mandela’s inauguration
In May 1994 was televised
Around the world,
It was a heartfelt, emotional ceremony,
Where many nation’s
Flags were unfurled.
Nelson Mandela had a remarkable wit
And sense of humour,
This is quite true,
Not just a rumour.
He had an acute awareness and brought
His cherished country to realize their
Independence, a passion he always sought!
But sadly although an icon,
He was like us all, only human,
And so our hero died
On the 5th December 2013,
And the world cried!
Models on a runway
Look like skeletons in clothes.
Skinniness is what’s expected
At the fashion shows.
So mannequins reflect that trend
And thus are thinly shaped,
Conforming to how we expect
To see their outfits draped.
But not in Venezuela
Where the mannequins have grown,
Presenting bigger boobs and butts
Than those before had known.
The shoppers want voluptuous
So factories complied
And Dolly Parton look-alikes
Are what they now provide.
The stores report that sales are up
Since all the clothing racked
Is fetchingly displayed up front
On mannequins so stacked!
The red kings,
And the black kings,
And the kings of garnet and jasper,
Lie silently behind plexiglass
While the population
Is petrified.
Yet the red kings,
And the black kings,
And the kings of garnet-jasper,
Are only strange marionette kings
That the population themselves
Have created.
Freedom and Liberty.
Bought with blood.
We've fought side by side.
Guided from above.
Mexico stood brave.
United States couragous.
Won their wars
And stood victorious!
So let's remember as we celebrate freedom
From our common foes.
That if we always stand together.
We shall surely never fall........
My wife tells me, 'Lie Supine.' 'Lie prone.'
~ No diff'rence. Either way I groan ...
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
I knew Him once, so long ago
But life pressed in and so, you know,
I quite forgot His loving ways
And trundled on in those dark days
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
Divorce hit hard and more than that
I found myself alone and sat
In gloomy, hopeless misery,
Feigning that contentment I might see.
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
The New Age failed to win my trust
And Buddha couldn’t help me. Thus
I looked and looked for something good –
Invited Him to share my food
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
He sat at table’s feastless head,
My female self in witchcraft mode,
My male adorned in handsome garb,
My child at play. No sound was heard –
And then he left – out through my door,
So I went too. It would be poor
To lose so sweet and true a friend.
I followed him right out. The end
Of lonely effort, point bereft.
I’d follow Him with footsteps deft.
I’d never let Him leave my sight,
For He had loved me. Sweet delight!
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
Viva la morning sun
Midnight, dark night, no light, can’t go.
So dark, so quiet, so I guess the neighbours are not home.
Waiting for sleep to arrive, but it never does on time.
Still waiting to permanently close my eyes;
But match sticks under baggy eye lids,
Will not show me the peaceful dreams I need to find.
Brain storms while outside it is silent.
Not a raindrop in the air.
Sun will rise shortly, as will the neighbours;
They all arise without a care.
I will hear their alarms and the beeping of their cars
And each and every door they all slam, God damn!
Muffled music drives away and I am left with clinking milk bottles.
How I hate to hear the milk man moving in full throttle.
The bin men arrive flashing their ‘vehicle is reversing’ lights.
I close my eyes, but they peek around the curtain…sigh.
People are busy nattering and I am left sinking;
There is no calling for the postman singing.
The birds have not even got their song books out yet,
Because there is too much noise, for all their rehearsing.
Now I arise from the deep pit in which I dwell.
The zombie arisen, the power button pressed, another day of Hell.
In a state of half-dress the violins begin,
Quietly at first, but soon a full orchestra of noise;
A cup of tea is soon ready to drink.
This symphony would wake the whole neighbourhood,
If it wasn’t for all the toys and work, which mean they are already up.
The din would be said to be deafening, ironic,
If I cared to hear those muggles out there, but today is supersonic
And the strings are rising up to the top of the planet,
And I am drifting within the music’s magic.
I am taken away to a classical age,
Where maidens play while in-waiting in castles.
The beer is served in tankards,
Meat ripped with fists and soldiers prepare for battle.
This warrior mind has no strength for a Queen,
The zenith passed, the air up here is so clean
And now the end of the song approaches
And with a whimper, I remember, the line of forgotten roaches…
I raise to my height, now at full length, a citizen.
Viva la revolution! I am at one with creation.
Hello Earth and morning sun!
Let me feel your warmth…my morning divine, my elation.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.