Long Guatemala Poems
Long Guatemala Poems. Below are the most popular long Guatemala by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Guatemala poems by poem length and keyword.
Images now received by satellite
Show spaceships similar to here
In Tunguska, deepest Russia
The largest seems to appear
Near the Kingdom of Scourie, Scotland
From the Minch it slowly arose
The third of them showed so silently
Highlanders agape, froze
Governments now in communication
Media frenzies gather flow
It takes something out of the ordinary
For dialogue to openly show
A hush captures our attention
Channel 5, Australia News
Ayers Rock sees the fourth of these crafts
Indigenous carvings on the screens we now view
More reports are gathering strength
In Guatemala, near Piedras Negras
"Black stones" I believe in Spanish
Is it coincidence that this is the last
The night to the dawn takes ages to pass
Every hour we look to our skies
Have we awoken what we have always dreamt of
Below us, our eyes could never espy
Not from the depths of outer space
But from the deep from the planet we live
Lying dormant, awoken by archaeologists
We await as many nations, misgive
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-18.php
Dr. Clement Moloch professes in torture.
He is always accompanied by Claire, his sister.
Moloch performs clandestine operations for governments.
He is responsible for the torture and death of insurgents.
Holland is journalist Jorge Hidalgo’s friend.
Holland learned Jorge’s life came to an end.
The doctor killed Jorge with high voltage electricity.
Senor Hidalgo was another victim of the doctor’s killing spree.
Hector Lomelin informs Holland of the predicament.
Lomelin attempts to talk Holland out of retirement.
Holland refuses, but later changes his mind.
Dr. Moloch is someone assassin Holland must find.
Holland learns Moloch and his sister are in Central America.
Moloch has been hired by the government of Guatemala.
There are several bodyguards protecting the doctor.
Moloch even has the aid of the American ambassador.
Holland takes out his targets one by one.
He is very adept with both the knife and the gun.
If you are wondering how this escapade will end,
all I have to say is, “See the movie, friend”.
Based on the 1984 film “The Evil That Men Do”.
Broken Dreams
Tonight I´m happy and sorrowful
I refuse to cry over lost friends
I´m drunk as well.
It feels good to up the anchor of sobriety
let alcohol give wind to my sails.
A clipper buying tea in China
not useless plastic toys.
Sleek, the line and the women admired me.
Let the clipper sail.
I don´t care; I shall stay and make love to you.
I´m sorry I left my Liverpool girl
I went to Brazil to harvest coffee beans.
Guatemala, I got there by chance
a beach and moonlight.
I have not forgotten my promises
one day more, just one more day.
The clipper sailed to other shores
I never got to write
The poem of my life
a lost friend
I refuse to cry over lost friends
I`m drunk too
It feels good to up the anchor of sobriety
Let alcohol give winds to my sails.
I`m a clipper buying tea in China
not useless toys
Sleek the line, the women admired me
let the clipper sail
I don`t care
I will stay here and
make love to you.
I`m sorry I left you, my Liverpool girl
I went to Brazil to harvest coffee beans
Guatemala I got there by chance
the beach in the moonlight
I have not forgotten my promises
one day more, just one day more
but the ship always sails to other shores
and I never got to write
the poem of my life
To see shooting stars,
There must be two conditions,
Look at the night, the sky,
Believe in shooting stars,
I only saw the Big Dipper,
I saw in Greenland, one summer,
I saw some in Guatemala,
On the shores of Mozambique,
Last night, I didn’t see any,
A third condition is missing,
The most important of the three,
That someone loves you,
Darling, have we dreamed too much.
Pour voir des étoiles filantes,
Il faut bien deux conditions,
Regarder la nuit, le ciel,
Croire aux étoiles filantes,
Je n’ai vu que la Grande Ourse,
J’ai ai vu au Groenland, un été,
J’en ai vu au Guatemala,
Sur les rives du Mozambique,
Cette nuit, je n’en ai pas vu,
Il manque une troisième condition,
La plus importante des trois,
Que quelqu’un vous aime,
Chérie, avons nous trop rêvé.
Slowly I walk to the window as I am attracted by the light
What could cause such brightness before my day becomes bright
I step out on the balcony, my eyes lured towards the sky
Spaceships of various sizes, is this our world in nigh
In the sky above Central Park, appears the daddy of them all
Whilst all around are smaller ones in deliberate hover fall
Just off to my right I hear explosions and screaming cries
Then suddenly down below, one hovers and catches my eye
Inscriptions on it's side, remind me of 2nd century glyphs
Can it be that they have been here before, and banish alien myth
The writings that I see are similar to the Mayan race
From the site at Naranjo, yes, Guatemala being the place
My mind in wheels of confusion as to why today has arrived
Leads me to think that this happening is genius in contrive
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-17.php
A seaman's life
Looking at the map, I have been to most countries
that have seaports but no time to explore work had
to be done whether it was Monday or Sunday
I have crossed many seas. The Pacific Ocean had
long, deep waves, the Atlantic Ocean had sharper waves
while the Mediterranean Sea could not make up its mind
The Black Sea wasn't blue and looked darksome; the ship
was stuck on ice flakes
The country we seamen preferred was the USA
we could get our shopping done and buy stuff for
friends at home, shops stayed open longer
A Russian town had a beautiful avenue, but otherwise
a city shrouded in darkness
I lost my heart to Guatemala, beautiful beaches near
the docks, a nation of friendly folks
Haiti, Port-au- Prince where Papa Doc ruled with his
brutal men dressed in flowery shirts, sunglasses
eager to shoot at anything that moved
a place where portholes had to be closed for the stink
What I remember best was in Nagasaki one afternoon
I had two hours off work and noticed how few people
I met it was as if they were still in shell shock
In a courtyard, I came across the graves of Portuguese
seamen who had died of the pest 200 years ago
far from home, died of an illness, I grieved for them
The evenings in foreign ports were the same bars
and women of ill repute ready for a small amount
of money serviced the ritual of sex, so one could be drunk
go back onboard for a few hours of sleep
Clement Moloch is a despicable doctor.
This physician specializes in death and torture.
For any government, he is there to be hired.
A professional assassin who has retired
is called upon to catch the evil perpetrator.
All over the world, Moloch has been a murderer.
Holland the assassin goes to Central America,
where the doctor was last seen in Guatemala.
There, Holland employs uncanny perfection
in taking out each of the doctor's protection.
Want to see how the rest of the movie will go?
All you have to do is watch the video.
Based on the 1984 film "The Evil That Men Do".
A woman devoted to saints
Of Easter candles and Mass incense
Praised the Lord
Because she had a body
Worthy of merit
That had already been hinted at
More than once
The parish priest in confession:
-My daughter, what's wrong with you?
-A fever, Father
That pierces my heart.
-Do you want me to kill you a bird
Of those you raise at home?
-Yes, kill it for me, Father
When I lift my skirt
And pull down my panties.
This woman had a seven-year-old son
Devoted to that priest
Of whom he became an altar boy.
In a winery owned by his mother
The boy invited him to try
A local wine.
The priest got drunk
From this cool wine
Telling the boy, half-drunk:
-If your mother doesn't change her mind
I want to enjoy your pretty little ass.
-By Saint Isidore!
The boy replied furiously.
I don't want your clapper to ring
On my little ass.
Are you starving, Father?
Having so many bigots
Who, for a little money from the collection box
They will give you some of their chicken.
-You're bad, son.
-No, I'm worse, Father.
If you come down with me, Father
To the back of the cellar
You'll see the wine rack we have
And the best wine to taste.
First, the priest started down.
Behind, the boy.
He grabbed a chair
Breaking three of his ribs.
He grabbed a club
Knocking off his mustache.
He tore his member out by the roots
And gave it to a bat
Which carried it by the beak
To the Hermitage of the Sovereign Virgin.
In the Archbishopric
After a while
Without any news of him
Presuming he was missing
They reported that perhaps
He had left as a missionary
To El Petén in the Republic of Guatemala
Up to his tricks on Flores Island
And Santa Elena de la Cruz.
Under a blistering sun, I walked alone,
A heart heavy, a past I’d overthrown.
In a foreign land, every breath I’d take,
Found her laughter by the old canal lake.
Darkness crept like a thief in the night,
Turned to ashes, lost all sense of right.
Her kindness now holding despair,
I broke her; how could I dare?
In Arizona, where cacti stand tall,
Her spirit lingers within these four walls.
Stars brighter when my guilt’s out of sight
Desolate silence, I’m haunted by the night.
Memories of Guatemala echo in my veins,
Memories of her, as heavy as my chains.
A red rose blooming in this barren land
I’m waiting with blood on my hands.
Under skies we shared our dreams,
Her smile, now torn at the seams.
Each passing moment my time slips away,
I search for redemption; now I have to pay.
Arizona, where shadows dance free,
Ghosts of choices won’t let go of me.
She rests beneath this desert sun
Inside me she’ll always be the one.
My judgment on death row's ground
Clock ticks slow, no salvation to be found
Strapped to the table, pulls tight on regret;
My last heartbeat whispers, I’ll never forget.
Under Arizona’s unforgiving sky,
Her memory is like a sweet goodbye.
Arizona snuffing out all light
Unforgiving silence will make it all alright.
The night where I turned love into pain
Her memories forever are a cold rain.
From Guatemala to red rock lands wide
Trapped beside me where my soul hides.