Parted by the cobbled stones
colonial brick patterned high,
baby boomer's and fragile bones
strolling under a watchful eye.
The dizziness continues to bustle
joined by beggars and thieves,
marveling at the persistent hustle
as the sun is setting to leave.
Cultures meet on the la Calzada
feet tapping to the drumming beat
scouring down an enchilada
escaping and lounging off their feet.
Shadows form and dimly lit,
pestered by hand carved craft,
horses chomping on their bit
slightest breeze provides a welcoming draft.
Soaring temperatures start to subside,
as people continue to stare,
the small procession of a blushing bride
her hopes for a future, laid bare.
(A Friday night under a cresent moon on La Calzada, Granada, Nicaragua)
Categories:
calzada, places
Form: Monorhyme
The man who walks on
Calzada De Los Muertos, speaks
only in Spanish.
“… in the remains of yesterday
rain a bit of Moon is shining.
Ice too much ice. And the time is
somehow split up into tomorrow and
into tomorrow. And the love, oh,
love is…”
The man goes on.
Yes.
Yonder, on the alley of birds,
a couple is speaking into gold.
Categories:
calzada, love
Form: Free verse