Don’t scan your horoscope today
to find out what the stars may say
tomorrow brings, or if you’ll see
the lilacs bloom again, that tree
bud, flare, and fade, the sun decline
into its winter’s mortal shine:
what lies ahead is still a blur,
though what’s to come is all too sure.
The vanished years recede so fast,
and any smile may be our last:
we’re not designed to glimpse our end;
just take what good the gods may send.
This is all we need to know:
we’ve got today: don’t let it go.
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In imitation of (though not a translation of) Horace Odes I.11.
Please note that I never have used and never will use AI to compose or revise any of my writings.
A random comment on poetry in general: A good poem is addressed to the person who reads it, not to the person who writes it. By this standard, there are practically no good poems being written today.
Out comes the storm
In a galloping parade
Of silver and iron
Honour masking the greed of men
In the rattling and dim wilderness
The rituals and the songs
Are ready to be extinguished
By those who rule over gods
And then a fatal sob
Pierces through the still ether
And the keepsakes of ages
Are washed away in a river the colour of blood
- A paradise is lost
And she dashed out of that darkness
Leaving behind her potions
And the archeology of knowledge
Clotted with blood of the wise and the heathen
Sacrificed onto an unfaithful god
On top of a sun-brimming temple
But the men came for her
As they always do
Filled with lust and rage
Gnawing, ripping, mutilating
That dark sacred flesh
Discarded on the wet ground
And she strode deeper and deeper
The wild one of her tribe
With only traces of echoes
Of the only voices she had known
But there are no voices here
They remain only as effigies
On dirty marble of the victors
- Silencio.
Mojito Conjuring
When the bruja in the red dress
sends me out this time,
it is for the taste of
sour oranges and garlic.
Once, when I plied her
with a cigar called Hoyo de Montyerrey,
she coiled the smoke,
said that I was still feral and untamed,
sent me out for sugar so that
I could learn my true name.
Scythe-swinging, field-slave-singing,
I could not return to her coven of one
until I had learned that my “Suarez”
meant that I was the son of sugar itself –
the child of wild ingenious devouring
the rows of cane like a dragon.
Now, red-dress bruja breathes out
clouds of tobacco *****,
turns the cigar round and round,
tells me to gather garlic and aurantium oranges
so that the sour and the sucre may jibe
together in me,
and leave me properly christened
for when it is time for me to work,
time for me to sweat,
time for me to sing.
Flying in
On blankets
Shoes
And Hair
Copied from the land
Most repeated
Where I stand
As a visitor to the southern lands
Bird feathers
Water
And trees
A feast of Latin colors
Brought from different lands
Coming home to roost
O, Sapientia, Mistress of Our Soul,
Effulgent glory of eternal light
Spin the wheel of life that you govern
Ordering all within the moonlit night.
O come, fairest Sapientia, lead us into day
With saving hand, on heaven's sacred way.
oh crackle fire let flame and quell
a sound, this sound upon such spell
that cast a tone to ear nearby
and changed by cheek and timely sigh
along down track and hoof-fall tread
at mid of night and wandering dead
a single player wrote this eve
with harp to mouth, oh crackled weave
that to himself came lost in dust
‘neath the shadow of Vesuvius
then turned to stone his twisted hum
for still he plays his crembalum
crembalum
ori admotum, digito
–For Laura
Tandem means finally.
Latin wordplay.
But here it means mirroring
But not.
Cloning
But not
Having
a bosom friend,
A storm sister,
an exit buddy.
–From OJ
Watch your Latin and don't let the cat in
Caesar had some jam for tea,
Pompei aderat.
ille, illa, illud,
but I'll have Yorkshire pud.
amo, amas, amat
Who let in the cat?
hic, haec, hoc
The mouse ran up the clock.
You can add another item
ad infinitum.
Waiting at the window
In the upper floor red brick
Through glaze oxidized opaquely
With grime that has grown thick
From eary day she
arrives at post
The arc begun at easternmost
She watches the light progress
At noon she dines a simple meal
that to her holds no real appeal
Around she moves it on her plate
And soon is quite the mess
Throughout her vigil ever she crept
This guardianess
Who seldom slept
Yet dreams of his return a dream to her heart she's kept
Caecilius est in forum
eyes closed as he spoke
looking as old, ash covered
as the language he was teaching
clinging on, barely, the class
drifting beyond windows
and tennis courts
what became of Caecilius
what became beyond windows
“pig latin poetry”
i’mway away igpay
ithway ingsway
hey’retay allway
ispay utbay
iway avehay
isngsway
If you wish peace...
vis pacem
para bellum...!
A BEAUTIFUL LATIN GIRL
From South America I
Find a girl gifted and
endowed with beauty
My humble Latin woman
Of great and terracious honour
Eyes like a tempest blue sea
So pure and chaste
Like Adriatic sea.
Soft body like dew on
Evergreens Flowers
So clean without blemish
Black hairs like a fur
So long like the Nile
Attractive like a magnet
Thousands heart it melts
A woman filled with intelligence
So calm and meek
Tender like a lamp
Not a peacock
So humble and brave
Oh Latin girl
Naturally endowed
With amazing figure
And enormous melons
That supplies quality nutrients.
Like a juice
With spaces between
Her actions
As shade for whoever
She marries
Angelic Latin shinny girl
Like an ivy
Tall like mount Everest
With head to the sky
She is a Latin girl
Can't you see her beauty
I wish you can get one
A latin girl.
Far from rare to be sleek
be holy...
if peace be conquered
Be a parable...
conquer life, lest your sins fall
on earth beware
But be patient
conquer your freedom
Procul harum este nitidi,
este sanctum...
si vinci pace
parabellum este...
vince vita, ne cadas peccata
in terris cave...
Patienta tamen
libertae vince
Holding her is nice
He loves romantic tango
Dancing up a storm
written September 28, 2021
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