Long Faro Poems
Long Faro Poems. Below are the most popular long Faro by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Faro poems by poem length and keyword.
Mujer, mujer, oh dulce mujer
Mi amor, mi cuna, mi comienzo
En mi cuaderno diario
Cada día es tu día
Tú eres mi alma, mi pilar
Te aprecio todos los días
Y te amo mucho, mucho mi amor.
Mujer, mi amor, mi belleza
Tú me sorprendes todo el día
Tú ocupas el centro de mi vida
Tú eres mi princesa, mi amiga
Tú eres mi reina, mi envidia
Mujer, mujer, oh dulce mujer
Mi oxígeno, mi bella dama.
Mujer, corazón de mi alma
La estrella de mi cielo y de mi vida
Tú eres la muñeca original, la mujer hermosa
Tú eres ella que se mueve, que empuja y que rema
¡Guau! Tú eres una mujer bien realizada
Mujer, dulce mujer, oh tierna mujer
Tú eres el sol que ilumina mi palma.
Mujer para mi, tú eres fundamental
Mi angelita, mi santa, tú eres muy especial
La vida no tiene sentido sin ti, sin tu sonrisa
Tú eres mi faro, mi amor, mi esperanza
Tú eres mi corazón, mi sueño, mi alma
¡Mujer, mujer, oh mujer misteriosa!
Traducción del poema de ‘Joyous Women’s Day’
Por Hébert Logerie
Copyright © marzo 2019, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados
Hébert Logerie es autor de varios libros de poesía.
The occupiers
Faro is a beautiful coastal town with a marina
and wonderful blue waters, it is an old city with
historic buildings and an inner wall where
the army and rich merchants lived, but there is a problem
you can hear it like swarm bees long before you
see them; rats are building a city in the ancient
the sewer system and get sunlight through
the storm drains, not to forget they a have an army to,
vermin come ashore from long boats, established
a colony thrived and married into the local rats.
At night thousands of them come over ground
and clean the city of waste, the sanitation dep,
has little to do in a town with no litter, but how
long will it takes before the vermin are strong
and ready to expel the humans?
PS. This scribbling was never meant to have political
Connotation.
She was a wily cigar chompin' gambler with the moniker of Poker Alice,
Renowned throughout the west for her skill in many a gamblin' palace!
Poker Alice had a good head for countin' and with her very cunnin' guile,
(Plus her beauty), she mesmerized her opponents, amassin' quite a pile!
Poker Alice worked in saloons across the west as a faro and poker dealer.
She worked in Creede, Colorado for Bob Ford, that notorious stealer!
Because of her pious rearin' as a girl, she refused to work on Sundays,
But she was back smokin' a two-dollar stogie and dealin' cards on Mondays!
She drifted to Deadwood, South Dakota, where her notoriety was well known,
And married a house painter named Tubbs who was a deft gambler on his own!
Later she established a brothel near Fort Mead Army Post with her ill-gotten gain.
The place was small and she needed funds to fix the 'house' on Pleasure Lane!
To expand and recruit 'soiled doves' from Kansas City she applied for a loan.
The banker scratched his skull sayin', "I dunno! That's a risk into the unknown!"
She convinced him notin' that The Grand Old Army had an encampment near,
And for the soldiers' bent for visitin' hog ranches, he had nothin' at all to fear!
Things didn't go well since she plumb forgot The Methodist Preachers' Convention,
Convened each and every year and she hadn't figured on that intervention!
Poker Alice's fame and notoriety followed her well beyond her wanin' years.
She died after a gall bladder operation with her 'house' payments in arrears!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 in Don Johnson's " Your Old Ballad Or Rhyme - Best Of All Time" Contest
July 2011
Grant Murchison was a ranch-raised young man,
Arizona territory was his land,
Six-foot tall, and blonde around the head,
Raised by good parents, even well read,
The whole dang town spoke highly of him,
His charming ways and earnest grin,
All thought he would take his daddy’s ranch,
He’d spent his teens working with the hands,
When his pa asked if it would be this way,
Grant shrugged,”I’ll settle down some day.”
Not long after after he stared going down to
Scully’s Oriental Cathouse and Saloon,
Took him no time to get used to drink,
After a few too many he’d up and sing!
People knew him to be fond of a good time,
Even when his songs had mixed up lines,
To the point the bartender became concerned,
Said,”Grant, a hot fire does not long burn.”
Grant listened and heard what he had to say,
Then laughed,”I’ll settle down some day.”
A few days later, sitting at the bar,
He took a nation to playing the cards,
The whole of the saloon looked on, awe-struck,
He own hand after hand, beginner’s luck,
and soon he was dealing his own table,
poker and faro, he was deft and able,
before long he’d won a chuck of cash,
but what he earned he spent almost as fast,
his pa said,”Son, it’s a dangerous game.”
Grant smiled,”I’ll settle down some day.”
With his new success, Grant wanted more,
and frequented the Oriental’s whores,
one in particular received his love,
a former slave-girl, soft as a dove,
daughter of a master, with tawny-skin,
she was a hundred things and more to him,
so much that in bed one summer night
she asked him if he’d ever take a wife,
he said,”Just you. But it’ll have to wait,
until I’m ready to settle down some day...”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
"This is funny"— Doc Holliday
A cowboy’s whispering
a devil may care response?
I give as good as I get
Doc Holliday gave his services,
saved a lawman from sure calamity
brave, never a streak of yellow
perchance it was his caustic wit,
a humorous bite, and sense of humor
as dry as the dust
I am your huckleberry
do or bust!
At the Ok Corral
horse’s trotting
horse neighs, grunts
a nickel plated pistol fires
the infamous gun fight prior
what’s not to admire?
Cavalier as Doc may be,
a baptized sinner’s gunslinger
who’d specialize in dentistry
at a time when a bottle of whiskey
and a pair of pliers were the tools of the trade
he gave and gave
"Best set of teeth in gold"
claims he and partner
and true it was awarded and to showcase
annually at the County Fair, praise oh praise!
Tuberculosis
the death of him
the “White Death” shall soon take its toll
coughing spells untimely discourse dispels
a recourse to gambling after all
dexterities hold steadfast
Faro, a master’s game
no real family but the wild and woolly west
when shooting it out its life or death
Or knives be it
the heart bleeds, its beats slowly
as the lungs fill with unrepentant decay
a dagger's stabbing pain
The sulfurous waters
the distant wind yearns and blows
like the drums of passion,
a harpsicord ominous,
an urgent cello
exposing desert sands
it reveals one’s true nature
an inherent caliber it shall define
For every sinner there is comfort in knowing
there is forgiveness divine
to err is human and in the depths of our sins
the light will shine
so it shall be for him
I always figured I'd meet my fate someday
with my boots on…
but in the end
in his bed
boots off
A poet at the supermarket
At the supermarket, yes, we have one near Faro. I met a poet.
The mall is nicely built and has two bell towers.
From time to time, they chime to remind us why we are
Here, not sit on a bench in its courtyard looking up to
The sky is seeing mind-blowing cumulus configurations.
The poet I met had a white beard, wore an old black suit,
a tie with red wine spots on, a black beret that whiffed
Of garlic, I think. You could see that it wasn’t really there.
His eyes scanning the ground, he bent down, picking up.
Half-smoked butts of cigarettes. Ok, not so rich
So what? Haven’t you heard of a poor poet before?
They are not all idle sons of the rich, and with a university.
Degrees in literature. A notebook in the side pocket and
Two pencils in his breast pocket; so he was a poet, ok.
¿Yo? Yo amo distinto,
profundo y callado, al instinto,
entregado como río a su mar,
sin prometer un eterno brillar.
Solo ofrezco mi fiel presencia,
lealtad sin ninguna carencia,
y constancia, mi mano a tu lado,
un amor sincero, y muy bien cuidado.
Tengo el miedo que siempre estará,
de no ser suficiente, ¿Qué más da?
Y sé, que mi alma es vulnerable,
pero mi amor es inquebrantable.
Deseo estar, sin dudar,
en cada paso, en cada lugar,
en tus risas y en tu quebranto,
siempre a tu lado, como un manto.
Amo maduro, sin tanto alarde,
más de hechos, que adornos cobardes,
pequeñas acciones, mi guía y faro,
más que prometerte un mundo raro.
No estrellas fugaces, ni un gran show,
sino el alma, que te entrego, now.
No ofrezco lunas, ni un palacio astral,
solo un hombro fiel, para este final.
No me cansaré, lo juro,
amar sincero, eso aseguro,
con intensidad, sin condición,
y un compromiso, mi única misión.
Pero a veces, en la noche sombría,
la duda atrapa, a mi alma vacía,
y en mi ser pregunto, sin cesar,
¿merezco este amor, este lugar?
— Jeick, el que aprendió a amar en silencio.
08 de Enero del 2026.
Mean Machine
The locomotive was an old mean machine
only used for carrying gods at local stations along
boring flatland. Once it had been a young and
the President of Portugal rode on it, not only him
but many other high up all the way to Lisbon.
And now? It wanted to go hiding somewhere dark,
but where does one conceal an iron horse?
The train passed near the parking lot in Faro
I was out with my dog, and there I could let her
run free. There was a hole in the fence were
the tracks. Naturally, she jumped through.
She saw the train that seemed to speed up
with murderous intent when she jumped clear it
was too late. I had her buried and the following
days were long and full of sadness.
Happy family
When I was 51 I had an affair with dancer
She didn`t want the baby and gave it to me.
Can you imagine? The village women rallied around
A thought is how to change nappies.
I also had to take in a dog no one wanted because it was
aggressive, not a bit of it she had a purpose in life
protecting me and the baby.
Years passed and when she was six she began school
I drove her there but had to sit outside so she could
see me, later that day we drove into town to buy
suitable clothes what I picked out she didn`t like
so I left her to it.
I heard a scream; she was in a panic I was not there
picked her up she clung to me and said: daddy never
leave me. We were a happy little family the doom-struck
her mother came back and claimed the child there
was little could do, so dog went behind the sofa sulking
I sat on the sofa drinking wine.
Life goes on the dog and I went for walks that got shorter
and shorter as she was quite elderly had a white snout
and sagging stomach and was grumpy in the morning.
One day I went into town when coming back she had died.
I borrowed a spade to dig a hole but had no strength
Bu I saw two big sandstones leaning toward each other
Forming a grotto I put her in there.
As I said year’s passes when I was 71 I needed surgery
Think it is called a bypass, sitting there with a tube in my stomach
There was a knock on the door and in came my daughter
Cried as I have never cried before, she was studying
to become a doctor. When I was feeling better I wanted
to take the bus home. She would hear nothing of it
And arranged for an ambulance, she was in charge
a right bossy little madam, of course, she had a job in Faro
but she visited me every other day, telling me what to do.
Then she got a posting in Cascais and with my new wife, we moved there. Her mother had said she was not
my real daughter, like I, should care she is mine
nothing can separate us, but I wish she hadn`t been so bossy.
A Friday of Gayness
Today, I drove to Faro town wanted a dinner of tunny steak
with onions at a café, I frequented fifteen years ago.
The place had gone upmarket so had the prices.
One waiter remembered me, but not my wife who took a dislike
of the poor man with failing eyesight, said he was effeminate.
The café used to have two parts one part was a wine bar
I mostly sat there when Oscar Wilde walked in if it was
not him in person was someone who looked like Oscar.
He remarked what he had observed this morning
at the railway station and could recite his poems beautifully.
I decided to become gay too to be frivolous and happy
But avoid the sex part, the thought of this made me shudder.
Alas, I had to drive my wife home.
I tried to translate some of Oscar´s remarks into Portuguese
she didn´t think it was clever or funny,
this, was my fault telling jokes is not my metier, so I was back
being my pedestrian self.