Long Camino Poems
Long Camino Poems. Below are the most popular long Camino by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Camino poems by poem length and keyword.
Jackie
Doing 85 in a 35
Driving my daddy's El Camino
The engine roars like a hungry lion
A creature that would never be tamed
The wheels throw dust behind me
There is a brunette on the seat beside me
Daisy dukes and a halter top
Aphrodite has come to life
Her legs wrap around my stick shift
She takes it from first to fifth
Ever gaining speed on this country back road
Fence posts rush by in a blur
I can hear no sounds except the wheels
Tearing up the road as we fly over it
So many accidents on this road
So many people killed on “Dead Man's Curve”
What makes me think I can make it?
Is the chance worth the love of a girl?
Would I ever get a night with her
Or even a kiss?
The speedometer hits 110
The stars are no longer points of light in a distance sky
They begin whirling they are so beautiful
She moves closer tome
Her skin glistens in the light from the dashboard
Beads of moisture looks like a million diamonds
The song on the radio is pounding into my body
Building ecstasy far beyond what any boy should feel
Stopping would cause the feelings to wither and die
The faster we go the erotic she feels
Her every nerve controls her passion
Burning deep within her ivory skin
Bringing her to the edge of ******
The brakes lock
The tires squeal as she screams in passion
The motor dies with a bang
The wheels stop in total quiet
Then there is just silence
The silence was broken by her voice
She told me her name was Jackie
Then the door opened as she disappeared
Was she just in my mind?
An image conjured from my loneliness?
The motor died next to a tree
A white cross stood before me
Surrounded by dying flowers
One word was on the cross
It was faded because of the falling rain
It was a name
“Jackie” it said
Then I knew that she was gone
Hoy, en un día lluvioso,
desperté con un nudo en la garganta
y el pensamiento de la muerte rondándome despacio.
No estoy sola.
Hay ojos que observan,
sombras que parecen copiar cada parte de mí.
No lo entiendo.
Me confundo.
Pero sigo.
Porque podrán imitar mis pasos,
mis palabras, incluso mis colores,
pero no pueden robarme la esencia,
ni aquello que me hace ser quien soy.
A veces miro hacia atrás
y me pregunto en qué momento cambió todo,
qué parte de mí quedó en el camino
y cuál sigue intentando sobrevivir.
La vida es magnética:
me atrae, me repele, me arrastra.
Y mientras la lluvia golpea la ventana,
solo quiero desaparecer por un instante,
dejar de sentir el peso de existir
y encontrar, aunque sea por un momento,
un lugar donde pueda simplemente ser.
Un septiembre de lluvia
Hoy, en un día lluvioso,
desperté con un nudo en la garganta
y el pensamiento de la muerte rondándome despacio.
No estoy sola.
Hay ojos que observan,
sombras que parecen copiar cada parte de mí.
No lo entiendo.
Me confundo.
Pero sigo.
Porque podrán imitar mis pasos,
mis palabras, incluso mis colores,
pero no pueden robarme la esencia,
ni aquello que me hace ser quien soy.
A veces miro hacia atrás
y me pregunto en qué momento cambió todo,
qué parte de mí quedó en el camino
y cuál sigue intentando sobrevivir.
La vida es magnética:
me atrae, me repele, me arrastra.
Y mientras la lluvia golpea la ventana,
solo quiero desaparecer por un instante,
dejar de sentir el peso de existir
y encontrar, aunque sea por un momento,
un lugar donde pueda simplemente ser.
Hay quienes llegan a mi vida
como si mi corazón fuera un hogar abierto.
Se sientan en mis silencios,
descansan sobre mi valentía,
se abrigan con la paz que intento regalar.
Toman mi tiempo,
mi calma,
mi fe,
como quien enciende una lámpara
sin preguntarse quién la mantuvo viva.
Yo sonrío.
Escucho.
Sostengo tormentas que no me pertenecen.
Y mientras todos encuentran refugio en mí,
nadie nota que mi propio techo se está derrumbando.
Después vuelvo a casa.
Y la puerta se cierra.
No hay voces.
No hay abrazos.
Solo el eco de mis pasos
y el ruido interminable de mi cabeza,
recordándome que di demasiado.
Qué extraño es tener un corazón tan grande
que alcanza para salvar a otros,
pero no encuentra la manera
de salvarse a sí mismo.
Quizá no me rompieron de un solo golpe.
Quizá fueron pequeñas ausencias,
manos que solo sabían tomar,
miradas que confundieron mi bondad con un recurso infinito.
Y aquí sigo,
aprendiendo que la luz también se agota,
que hasta las almas más valientes
merecen descansar.
Porque nadie ve que quien ilumina el camino de los demás
muchas veces regresa a casa
para abrazar únicamente
la oscuridad.
Me consumen lentamente
mientras los salvo del incendio.
Nadie nota
que la luz que les entrego
es la misma que me falta al volver a casa.
Y aun así,
si alguien grita pidiendo ayuda,
mi corazón roto
siempre responde primero.
You gave the gift of life to me
And through your love you set me free
How in this world should I be
Without you.
I have your star that shines on me
Burning bright and endlessly
Show me how I need to be
Without you.
The first embrace we ever seek
The first sweet kiss upon the cheek
The first word that we ever speak is Mama
The light forever in my eyes
The angel walking by my side
The word that wells me up inside is Mama.
El camino duro andamos
Te veo momentos de oro
El angel de pie a mi lado, Mama
La luz que brilla en mis ojos
Ella que me quita el dolor
Con amor nunca estoy solo, Mama.
On fields of destruction soldiers die
Sent there by leaders who just lie
And as they fall the young men cry for Mama.
And so the circle closes fast
The future will be as the past
The first word spoken and the last
Mama.
The first embrace we ever seek
The first sweet kiss upon the cheek
The first word that we ever speak is Mama
The light forever in my eyes
The angel walking by my side
The word that wells me up inside is Mama
Mama, Mama.
HEAR ME SING THIS IN CONCERT ON YOUTUBE: 'AMERICANA MAMA LOUIS SPENCE'
THANK YOU.
Artist Verious
----------------------------
Fluttering Tougne
Concerto, Concerto, Concerto
Me buscas para ser tu
quieres mi amor
pero estás en
el camino
ya no me recuerdas
la soledad
es un asunto triste
no puedo esperar
a estar
contigo
de nuevo
Anata wa watashi o anata no mono ni ai to watashi no ai o motomete iru demo anata wa tabi ni dete iru mo watashi no koto o oboeteinai no? Kodoku wa kanashi mono mata anata to issho ni i rareru no ga machikirenai
í, día de gira
no teníamos miedo
ahora necesitamos tiempo
para escapar
mientras nos dejamos llevar por nuestros
recuerdos
de odas a la alegría y las lágrimas
degustando vinos preciados
de nuestros primeros años
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Pahrump, pahrump, pahrump
water from the rock
water from the rock
water from the rock
e t'aime
Je t'aime vraiment
Quand vas-tu dire
Tout va bien
Tout va bien
Tout va bien maintenant
Continue comme ça
Continue comme ça
Tout va bien
Oh bébé
Tout va bien maintenant
(On the morning of February 25, 1983, the great dramatist
Tennessee Williams was found dead in a New York hotel suite.
He had choked on the plastic cap of his eyedrops bottle, which
he habitually held in his mouth when applying the eyedrops.
The alcohol and pills he'd consumed suppressed his gag response.
This poem is (we are asked to imagine) the last thing he wrote,
a flurry of notes scribbled on hotel stationery.)
Why don’t I just go out and meet some bum?
for I confound hell in Elysium.
Romantic anonymity, just like
you’re lost out in the rain, Ciudad Juarez …
No human thing disgusts me, if it’s not
unkind, or violent.
I feel good, now.
I’m jacked up, and I’ve got my Seconal wind.
Where are you, Merlo? I’ve spent too much time
alone. We make decisions - is it will?
Well, character is fate. (Those eye drops. Damn,
where are they?) Walking out on Mom and Rose
was something which, although it had to be,
required a holy selfishness of me
that was spectacular.
The Rose Tattoo.
The only thing I wanted was to love –
was that too much to ask? Somebody’s Stella –
Stella for star. We muse too much on cruelty.
The pain’s no bane, so long as there is love.
Who cares what people say, after you’re gone?
I just wish I’d been lighter, funnier.
Camino, Orpheus, Sweet Bird of Youth:
they’re all so miserable – I’m not like that.
I think I’ll do a comedy named “Playwrights Dead”.
They always seem to go in silly ways!
There’s Hasek, Aeschylus and Ottoway,
and Orton, too. And Marlowe, most of all.
I need an epigraph that’s frivolous,
ironic, ludicrous, nonsensical.
(Ah, found my drops.)
In spite of all life’s dangers
If “proud”’s allowed, two things above the crowd
still clamor loud. I love the Texas Rangers,
and casual kindness, meted out by strangers.
Camino Poetica
Punching letters and keyboard penetration,
fostered dreams convey as salvation.
To that land of sacredness beyond mountains,
tasting sweet mothermilk healing fountains.
Visual rendezvous with colors from a rainbow,
mist and vapors of life captured for tomorrow.
Elixir from internal flame with its intuitive dreams,
caring firmament follow every thought it seems.
Misty blue keeps on rising turning to fine rain,
nature baptism without procedure to claim.
Cradle of art and science show a limitless way,
words still wet and fresh from mysteries to convey.
A ballad of ancient time repeats its ancestor’s vision,
poetic thoughts and its mirrored permission.
Lights from the Camino are the ever living cure,
that every poetic moment is magical for sure.
Yo vengo todo el camino a Mexico'.
Para, ver el mundo..
Para, ver las cosas Diferentes.
Ahora al rato.
Yo si me tiempo viene.
Para, ver el mundo.
Para sober que el.
Prtaisa esta terinado.
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Yo se mundo este lleno, de cosas diferente.
Las cosas diferente.
Ahora el rato.
Porqel el amor se disfruta.
Ellos san porte de la vida..
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Yo pienso el mundo es ou cosa espencia.
El amor si dis fruta.
Esto realmen me hace cantar.
Cantar sobre el planeta.
Y bueno sara para el hombre.
Esto es parques yo pe enso, esta palaras vienes pel araiso.
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios amigos'...
Adios Amigos' (Vercion En Espanol)by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1998,2014..ALL rights reserved..
Let me tell you a story …
Many pilgrims had passed this way before him
but had rarely stopped before trudging up the muddy path to the top of the hill
and then disappearing out of sight forever.
But he lingered at this shady spot at the bottom of the dip in the track.
The old stone tablet in the wall was overgrown with moss and ivy.
Rain droplets hung at the tip of every ivy leaf.
Catching the daylight, they twinkled like some distant constellation.
He pulled back the ivy, scraped off the moss to reveal the ancient writing.
By chance or maybe by some hidden force,
this place still belonged to the pilgrim’s way.
But the pseudo-pilgrims had no time to waste as celebrity beckoned.
Eyes fixed on the hill’s summit
they were oblivious of both this place and its significance.
The inscription read
If you look too hard you will not see
If you talk too much you will not hear
If you think too much you will not learn
If you walk too fast you will not arrive
If you are true to yourself you will be content
You will unlock the secret door
He reflected on what he had read but not too deeply and then smiled.
He had another 150 miles to walk which he could do in six long, arduous days
but now it would take him ten days of contemplation.
The climb up the hill was different from what had gone before.
It was exhilarating for the wonders of nature were all around to experience and enjoy.
Every step was stimulating.
The inscription filled his mind.
Slowly but surely the door opened.
The days passed and he realised the pilgrimage was of the mind not of the body.
Walking gave him space and time.
Ten days later he was uplifted and at peace
having stepped through the door of enlightenment
once secret and now so obvious.
He smiled at the pseudo-pilgrims there with him at the end.
He felt sadness for theirs was a superficial achievement
judged against each other with a materialistic prize.
They had been on a walk but not a pilgrimage.
He gave them one last glance,
turned and strolled into life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
25 April 2022
First Place Contest Name: Form N - Narrative - New Poems
Sponsor: Constance La France
Chosen Theme: #1 Journey
In the palate of a rainbow purple is my muse , such depth, such splendour it entrances the eye it fixates only on it
This is the colour of great many things, it may be the lavender of lilacs, or the boldness of a ripe juicy plum , may be that designer plush velvety chair which up on you sit
Purple is represented by royalty on the crown it is displayed with regal attention one must pay
It can be found as amethyst so stellar in its purity , attractive to the bitterness of skeptics, set in the finest of jewelry there it lay
A colour like no other , it’s quite awe is displayed in the cherished summers dusk , that brings solace to the waiting mind
It pretties up the scenery of the naked forest and speckles it in kind
Sensory bliss , euphoric, a constant for a master piece work of art , unique with a pleasure so appealing for all to witness that the heart can see
A Purple Heart for valour, the pleasing touch of velour , the only colour of a vintage El Camino as on drives off into the sunset , purple it the muse for me