Long Cuban Poems
Long Cuban Poems. Below are the most popular long Cuban by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cuban poems by poem length and keyword.
Cuba…Mamma Mia…like most of the Caribbean; part of the 1492 slam…
Slavery, sugar plantations… invasions, upheaval, independence…
Then the American kisses; with a slight twist…who initiated the ’disses’…?
Was it Blaine…is he insane…?
Was it Marti…the heart of the party…?
Or Teller…many say he was the real speller…
Or Estrada Palma…could he have been the calmer…?
Was it San Martin…any questions of his parting…?
Or was it Batista…is he the real twister…?
With his interwove of expansion…then stagnation and dissatisfaction…
Coupled with his increased economic regulation plan…
Was this the spike for the revolution…?
Enter Castro; was he the real maestro…his thoughts, his plans; communize the land…?
Centralize, non-democratize…ostracize, reorganize…
The politics…were they laden in tricks…?
The CIA; not here to stay… but what role did they play…?
When they realize the RAF size…what will they emphasize…?
With great plans to defeat…did they end in retreat…?
Now with Eisenhower…speculations of a great shower…
But after only months…fixation shift to ouster hunts…
Severed diplomatic relations…the new sensation…
Impositions of trade embargo…the ‘Fargo’ in my cargo…?
The ‘Bay of Pigs’…will you understand the gigs…?
The ‘Cuban Missile Crisis’…what was this Tri-fit…?
The military games…were these substances in flames…?
For a superpower war…or the everlasting scars…?
Of suppression, political persecution…migration, and interventions…
In Angola, and Ethiopia…from Nicaragua to North Africa…
To the Congo…to some say; ‘Jah Mek Yah’…?
Cooperation with Russia…was this the real crusher…?
The mid-eighties…the beginning of their ending gaiety’s…?
The dissolving of the Soviet Union…continuation of the country’s isolations…
Reduced rations…the new fashion…
Unpainted buildings…now the in-thing…
Old vehicles with limited repairs…any scares…?
Lack of electricity…did it colour the ethnicity…?
A country on the verge…is there a new urge…?
Tourist attraction…one logical concoction…
Amidst the flow…of system many Cubans know…
The US now attests…it is in the country’s interest…
Cuba has withstood the test…put the embargo to rest…?
Hot In Havana.
.
It was a sweltering hot sticky Havana summers
Velvet star-studded night
I was sat enjoying the scene
In a dance bar
As someone played the piano accordion
And guitar
.
Suddenly I was aware of a shapely silhouette
Stood at the door and I was transfixed by what I’d seen
And slowly she sauntered in swaying her hips
As sultry as a feline in her tight figure-hugging backless dress
Figure of a dream the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen
With a red rose tucked in to her glossy raven hair
With eyes that smoldered and could light up the night
And smooth tanned skin and pouting sensual ruby lips
Long legs in fishnet tights
.
Out to thrill and out to kill
All eyes were on the unknown stranger
As she stood poised at the bar
The room filled the ceiling fans spun
As men smoked their Cuban cigars
.
As the room got fuller the heat got hotter
And couples took to the floor
Suddenly out of nowhere
The was stood in front of me
I had seen stood at the door
.
Without a word she grabbed my hand
And led me to the dance floor
My heart was beating so fast
And I was sweating from every pore
Her scent was heavenly and heady
As we swayed and spun around
To the bands delightful sound
Her eyes beckoned me as a siren
To come even closer and hold her tight
Her lips were full sumptuous and pouting
The butterflies inside me were fluttering
And I was melting with euphoric delight
Like a moth to a deadly flame our lips
Almost met then she pulled away
She was just a tease and we could only play her way
Even though I was on fire
Both drenched in sweat
She let me kiss her bare shoulders and long neck
I could taste her perfume
As we swayed across the room
Other men tried to flirt with her
But she only had eyes for me
And I was drowning in ecstasy
.
We were both getting thirsty
So I weaved through the dancing couples
And headed for the bar
Through the haze of smoke from the cigars
When I came back cocktails in hand
She had gone and left the red flower
And a note saying
Thank you love Edwardo
She wasn’t a she
But a man.
.
Peter Dome©©2020.
Me barber’s still one of them blokes who lives the school of old,
using methods quite old fashioned to what modern trends unfold,
so with scissors, clippers, hot towel, then lathered with a brush,
he’ll shave you with a cutthroat, though never in a rush.
And he offers further benefits, if you’re that way inclined,
for just a couple of extra bob, you get your shoes well shined,
and while waiting for your turn, you can read a magazine,
or tune in on conversation, while his razors shaving clean.
He sells those huge cigars as well. I think the Cuban brand!
And there’s Californian Poppy that the young won’t understand.
Wafting through his barber shop is the smell of after shave…
And today there is one customer, who wants to misbehave.
He’ll be in the chair before me; I have to put up with his rot,
his voice is loud and won’t shut up, intimidating all us lot,
so when his time had come, we hoped he’d give us all a spell,
then he demands a shave and haircut and to shine his shoes as well.
I watched the barber lathering, before he beckoned with a call…
then this beautiful young woman came and stood in front of all.
The barber mentioned “Here’s a customer, wanting you to shine his shoes”
and when she bent down to do the job she gave some awesome views.
The loudmouth couldn’t help himself; he had to open up his gob.
He mentioned to the pretty lass, that when she finishes her job,
they ought to sneak away together, and book themselves a motel room,
but from the lass who shone his shoes, a shock’s about to loom!
She smiled into his soaped up face, and gave his shoe a pat,
“I’m sorry sir, I’m married and my husband wouldn’t like that.”
“Your husband!” Scoffed the loudmouth, “Use your commonsense!
Tell him you’re working overtime and I’ll pay you the difference.”
The lass raised her brow and gave a grin, then his shoe a final wipe.
She stood up and took a deep breath before replying to his hype,
“Your offers pretty good” she said, “I’ll go and get my hat and coat,
but you can tell him if you like… he’s got the razor at your throat.”
©2005 Lindsay Laurie
GARDEN
She smelled like the colors
of an intricate garden in which
every geometry and every dimension,
every expression of soft composition,
had the dominant splash, the pervasive
aura, the relentlessly visible subtext
of red
Centered and rooted in the soil
of tradition, North African shawl
over white silk blouse and long black
skirt, the high Cuban heels and the sheer
black stockings, the curly black hair over
dark honey skin all smelled like the gurgling
of cold running water through the granite
canals that sparkled like sunlight broken
by motion in the highest-walled gardens
of Al-Andalus
“I’m getting older” she said
clicking her heels as they walked
toward coffee at theater intermission
where women of high fashion and girls
without clue set an aesthetic standard that
smelled like the storms at the end of October
that dislodge the leaves, the petals, the last
fruits, and render the garden a study of lost
order overwhelmed by forces without
purpose or merit
“I want you” he said,
sure that every person on the
atrium floor was fully aware that
the finest theater in the darkening shadows
was she in the red shawl and the gentleman
beside her, that she smelled like the languages
of medinas and plazas, of harems and courtyards
and the pervasive odors of espresso and wine,
perfume and tobacco, lipstick and roses, that
the breeze of her breath made him sway
with the scents of the colors of night
Shall we?” he said
and she turned, saying nothing,
began walking slowly through the
flowers and vines with the soft sexy
rhythm that only high heels can offer
And reaching their seats, this alluring
composition of red breezes and smells
and Mediterranean gardens of poetry and
song, mother of his children and the
personification of all he know about plants,
kissed him lightly on the lips and looked
toward the stage “Yes we shall” she softly
whispered like a nocturnal breeze
in a garden where the walls smell like
oranges and jasmine and the
color of red
From his mother’s womb
One February afternoon
and straight to the Situation Room
Hunter Biden, we presume.
His father, with his thoughtless clauses and pauses,
Captured the most prestigious of offices.
And angry was the Republican caucus.
The Donald, he got jaundiced.
And vowed revenge on those Commie leftists.
So he rang Roger Stone
On the secret Bat Phone
I need you Dirty Trickster
For I alone am the true victor.
Be at Trump Tower, one hour.
Bring Nydia for Cuban firepower.
Stone rubbed his cock so mammoth
Grabbed his chalk stripe jacket
And went to save the planet.
Then magically, Sean Hannity
Had the audacity
To reveal our tragedy
(Reader, it’s tawdry)
The hero of our story
Had been groomed
On a silver crack spoon.
Alas!
Hunter made history
Because it was no mystery
Whose crackpipe it was
atop the White House
Christmas tree.
And who has the balls
To roam the West Wing halls
And drop a bag of blow
On that bust of Ol’ Frank Delano?
It wasn't his brother Beau.
Such is your brilliance
And your inheritance
The executive residence
Imagine!
The wonders you could do
From that trap house
on Pennsylvania Avenue
Maybe even replace Congress
with a petting zoo!
You get high
in polite society
No need for an apology
It's just pharmacology
In Hunter, we trust
the future off democracy
His cabinet? A veritably talent agency
Vice president Jay Z
Willie Nelson in charge
of drug policy;
Keith Richards
head of social security
(for all eternity)
Charlie Sheen secretary
of the Treasury
and Lindsey Lohan
your expert
on foreign policy.
Maybe, destroy
North Korea
in a bout of paranoia
But please keep
your stem in your pocket
don't let it fall on the carpet
During the State of the Union
Try not to piss on
the constitution.
Crackheads everywhere
take some pride
In our man on the inside
He’s from our tribe
sure he'll take a bribe
his brain is totally fried.
From one crackhead to another,
We love you Hunter!
It might be difficult for those growing up in the 50s and 60s to look back and capture the many issues that captured them
Was it camilot and the Kennedy brothers in the White House? Was it the headline news of the Cuban missle crisis?
Was it Elvis, rock and roll, or the Beatles and Beatniks? Was it the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war?
Some went off to war; some fought on college campuses Some just made love or packed their bags and fled to canada
There was that other war declared on poverty but never won Was it about my graduating high school and starting my life?
Was it the televised words of Nikita Khruschev, "We will bury you"? What about the hippies, yippies, flower children and the Jesus people?
Perhaps our greatest terror was "the Cold War" between USA and USSR There were a myriad of things going on that frightened my generation
It seems the whole world was in a mad rush for change at the same time
Maybe we all were under the influence of MAD(Mutually Assured Destruction).
In spite of it all, the beats from Nashville and Detroit kept people dancing But then, there were those like myself who never learned to dance
030220 “Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest”
Upon revelation’s flight
Under Orion’s focus
I witness a fiery glow towards familiar horizons.
‘Tis no sunrise
It is a striking reality.
My saddened retinas witness monochromatic pitchforks,
Desolated screams,
Embellished declarations from misguided leaders
And self-made stallions riding into condescending sunsets
Without any earned punctuation to be taken seriously
A House of Eroded Representatives
A village of One
A village of souls
Pushing
Back
…
There was a home upon these well-worn landing strips.
This was my home.
But, these forged rooftops now taste
Withering, hurricane gusts of red velvet cake’s mold
Rusted nails forcibly detached from honored foundations
Unto egotistical coffins
The reality
Shining through meter-less corruptions
Comes full circle
Small doses of poisonous vendettas
Fed from tarnished, silver spoons
Echoes of Cuban Fidel
Lace elasticity of “open arms”
With onyx, unfiltered coffee drops
Coating infant’s petulant lip
Witnessing cotton-less sheep walking with listless fervor
Towards silenced, condemned “Noahs”
I signal pilot within my melancholic wisdoms
To redirect our flight
To a new horizon
To an unsheltered domain
Where even waterfalls still allow
Conducive verbiage to rise
Amongst the unabashedly meek
To a destination
Where stature is defined by all
Not by one
Where character
Is developed under accountabilities’ pen
Where high horses & curtained theatrics
Are the only victims of banned tomorrows
Where honor
Is still defined
Without deleted, impulsive banter
Where friendship,
Love,
Wisdom,
Memories,
Shine
…
Because
Things
Things are no longer the same
Things are no longer the same
Things are no longer the same.
©Drake J. Eszes
“And my ties are severed clean. The less I have, the more I gain. Off the beaten path, I reign.” –Wherever I may Roam by Metallica (my lifelong song)
"American Grafitti" took me back again to High School in the 1960's
"Back to the Future's" nifty hot rod took me back in time and almost left me!
"City Slickers" took me way out west, to rustle cows and ride a horse
"Da Vinci's" code, did not bode well, the Vatican did not endorse!
"E. T. " turned out to be my friend, we peddled bikes far past the moon
"Forrest Gump" shared my lunch, and shared his chocolate just past noon
"Groundhog Day" is darn confusing, is it Monday or is it Tuesday?
"Hannibal" is one cruel dude,..........he sharpens teeth so he can chew me!!
"I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry" invited me to toast their wedding
"Jaws" invited me to take a swim! Those who did, were soon regretting!
"King Kong", was one poor ape who climbed too high for past mistakes,
"Lincoln" had too much at stake, but ended war between the states
"Mummy 1" and "Mummy 2" made me cry for Mommy,...PLEASE!
"No Country for Old Men"...but young dudes look, and want to leave!
"O' Brother Where Are Thou?" escaped their chains to play like Ringo
"Psycho's" bathtubs scare me silly, my next motel will be Flamingo's
"Quarantine" because I'm sick? If I stay in bed, they call me lazy
"Rosemary's Baby"...yikes that kid? Babysit....?? Are you crazy?
"Superman" claimed that he could help me, but flew away with no advice
"Titanic" hit a piece of ice, (that Superman was not so nice!)
"Unforgiven" (now is Superman)...Clint Eastwood is the slicker guy
"Valkyrie"'s plot has thickened...Let's all poke Hitler in the eye!
"When Harry Met Sally" I was jealous....her cafe' scene has made me blush
Xanadu had me roller skating.......racing faster, while I'm dating
"Young Sherlock Holmes" was just a kid, I kid you not, he met his Watson
"Zoolander" 's slacks were Cuban made.. I borrowed some and they were awesome!
(and I'm exhausted!)
______________________________________________
For Cyndi's exhausting ABC contest!! Whew!
You're a plastic girl,a tarry girl
your wrinkles hid so well,
you're a spoilt girl
drinking best flowing french champagne,
first class cuban cigars,
owner of so many latest convertible cars.
You're a perfect woman living your dream,
money coming your way like a stream,
rich men you chose,you had one aim
using them as your stepping stones to fame,
you're so insane.
You're growing old,
no one would guess
if left untold.
You still look the beauty to behold.
Collagen have shaped your skin,
riches have ruined your heart,
so deep within.
Where is your identity,
have you lost it my friend?
have it flown away with your riches,and found its end?
can you go back to the simple girl you were,
can you at least pretend?
You were a common girl with junky cars,
you were a shop girl selling jam in jars,
In the evening we used to sit at your porch
counting stars,saying silly jokes,singing,
together we had the nicest kind of living
Your kind heart i never forget,
now you turned so selfish and mean,
that's my greatest regret.
I remember so well,the tramp of the street,
You had only some food,but you always
gave him a share of your feed.
That same tramp you see today
you look at him and say
"Go away you filthy tramp,
i didn't grow up with you not true,
i don't know you,
you.re not my friend,you're a nobody
you're disgrace to society.
Ow my friend your heart so cold,
you're growing old.
In fancy restaurants you dine,
but i know
You were much happy when you were on the porch
adding the stars,drinking cheap wine.
My friend,my plastic tarry girl,
i wish you well,
your friend of the porch,the tramp!
is the same rich man you're holding hand,
Its me!" i love you my old plastic girl,
the only man of your life who knew you so well,
Will you marry the porch boy,the rich man?
Will you marry the once born as tramp?"
The plastic girl and the tramp!!-charma
Lines in the smile
By-Dominique smith
365 days make a year, those days swear are sincere, you choke on your drink at joke you just made caught you off guard. It would really make you think, would those 365 days be hard to break? While youre on the brink of tears the world still rotates. Holding your stomcah as throw your head back to catch your breath. Some tell you that each day is new start, but thats a saying thats just a few seconds of relief as they turn their heads back to their problems. You chuckle with a grin and even then you know that the relief is of no belief.
Cold hands offer a wide range of solutions but non of any resolutions, Surprises come due to your ability to swayed time, youre happy and healthy thats the way to be in your mind. You're doing great breathing in oxygen and exhaling your problems, Crack your knuckles and have a Cuban shuffle. The light of the sun touches your face, the honor of the wind is painting your skin, Nails on, hair done and worries gone. Be still youre bearing over the chastised heap of those who stood before you, Youre at your own peak of your mountain dont lose your altitude. You've done step one and youve got your prize, take a picture and look sterilized.
Your aura is cleaned and solid, anyone looks at you theyd be able see how stacked you are with not just your wallet. The life youre giving you did not ask for but you will make it your own and known as one of those who can bring light forth. Two tones take your soul the one side is bold and the other is your backbone. A cold steel rod is placed in your back, you stand up straight no one can break your stance it is yours to enhance. Youve gone to places that are worth wild, you've seen things that made you feel like you've walked 100 miles and the stories you tell to those who'll listen will believe your tales without trials because the proof is in the lines of your smile.