Long Pablo Poems
Long Pablo Poems. Below are the most popular long Pablo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pablo poems by poem length and keyword.
I lean toward her~
this woman split into colors
a woman rendered in angles,
her face divided as if emotion
had been dissected
and pinned onto the canvas.
Her green fingernails startle me,
soft as bruised mint,
as though she once touched something tender
and the tenderness stained her.
She sits with that stillness
women learn too early~
the stillness of being looked at
instead of being seen.
Inside those mismatched eyes
I sense a private weather,
a quiet storm she never named.
She was a photographer
who could coax truth from shadows,
a surrealist who bent the world
until it revealed its hidden pulse.
Yet, here she is,
held in the gravity of Picasso’s gaze,
her own brilliance dimmed
to the outline of his muse.
And still~
there is something in her posture,
a hint of sorrow and a small, steady refusal.
As if beneath the fractured planes
she is gathering herself back,
piece by luminous piece,
her green nails glowing faintly
like the first signs of a woman
stepping out of someone else’s shadow
and into her own light.
I am Farrah Fawcett,
Poster on the wall.
I am a rotary phone,
When I made a call.
I am, Boss,
it’s the plane, The plane.
I am Pablo Escobar,
And his cocaine.
I am Queen with
Freddy Mercury Live.
I am the Bee Gees,
Talking that Jive.
I am vinyl, 8-tracks,
cassettes and CDs.
I am, make love not war,
And Hippies.
I am where is the beef?
Don't squeeze the Charmin.
I am Cheech and Chong
and George Carlin.
I am SNL when it
Was funny.
I am Happy Days,
And a Playboy bunny.
I am M.A.S.H. and
A metal Lunch-box.
I am clackers, tang,
And a Pet-rock.
I am American Bandstand,
Peace signs, and the twist.
I am pay-phones, pagers,
and stick-shifts.
I am, conjunction junction,
What's your function?
I am Patty Hearst and
Her abduction.
Turbo1904
Captain of the most distant islands
living poem among my proses
that each one was exchanging for roses
with moonlight and wandering mornings
II
You loved as few have loved
with sea madness and clear lyrics
the greatest poet that will remain in us
as he in the calm portrayed...
III
The island was your light and your horizon
was a witness to your fate, luck
let my verse take you back
IV
Timemate here awaits you
beyond this letter and this death
I follow your companion brand...!
PS TRANSLATION/ADAPTATION OF THE POEM
SONNET OF THE POETISA ADELA CARPORAL
ARGENTINA FOR THE COLLECTION 1000
POEMS FOR PABLO NERUDA.
by alkas
Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll
On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering
We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling
Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright
Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume
We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink
Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon
Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.
Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains
“I love you…I love you”
Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze
I fall upon my knees
My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free
“I love you…I love you…I love you”
UPROOTED
“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.”--------------------Rumi
listen not to the vagrant zephyr
seeking only sustenance of its kind
idol thinkers lolling in innocence
swayed by every whispering sigh
unaware – that secrets lie.
“We put the urn aboard ship.”---------------------------------------Sappho
Single struggling sapling
scented with the longings of leaving,
kissed by the roots of a family’s tree
adrift on a sea of doubt
holding true to its native soil.
“Wherever I am, the world comes to me.”-----------------------Mary Oliver
An ocean lapping at the shores of time’s fleeting gusts
enticing us to come aboard, sail her winds
dance the song of the gentle rains
shelter in her wooded arms and cliffs
wait as her horizon’s greet my welcome.
“the moon is a curving flower of gold.”---------------------------Sara Teasdale
grinning in the pilfered beauty of sunlight
stolen from beyond earth’s curving crust
hanging its crescent hook for lover’s
to ponder in the midst of loving’s lust
petals falling in the path of daybreaks rush.
“I like my body when it is with your”…memory-------------------e.e. cummings
tingling with the cold salt spray of
breakers overpowering the sand
softly kissing the edges ……frothily spent
bubbling beneath the screech of gulls
nestled into the arms of home
“the apparition of these faces in the crowd”-------------------------Ezra Pound
vague faces of unknown forebears
yellowing in time’s smoky rooms
stern faces seeking a future
young faces – now grown old
dancing on the branches of a tree.
“The tree is here, still, in pure stone” ----------------------------------Pablo Neruda
troubled roots strengthened by hardship
searching life’s invisible pathways
meeting pressure with practiced patience
offering shade, and presence
touching granite’s hardened heart.
John G. Lawless
7/24/2015
“Wherever I am, the world comes to me.” Mary Oliver
“the apparition of these faces in the crowd.” Ezra Pound
”I like my body when it is with your….” e.e. cummings
“The tree is here, still, in pure stone,” Pablo Neruda
“We put the urn aboard ship.” Sappho
“the moon is a curving flower of gold.” Sara Teasdale
“the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.” Rumi
Pablo Neruda, the great Chilean poet,
Was exiled in an isolated Italian island during WWII,
Only communication he had with the world,
Were thru the letters delivered by the postman(Mario).
Mario: What's a poem?
Neruda:
It's a metaphor, it's a metaphor,
Mario: What's a metaphor?
Neruda:
'It is a device for seeing something in terms of something else.
It brings out the thisness of that, or a thatness of this.'
Mario: How do I write a metaphor?
Neruda:
Think of rain as the cry of the heavens,
Think of love as a rose,
Think of burning candle as the agony of a lonely heart.
Mario: How do I piece together metaphors?
Neruda:
On a moonlit night, I see my love reflected in the moon's silvery light,
Holding her tight, I smell the fragrance of jasmine tonight,
Adoring her smile, I see the beauty of monarch butterflies,
Staring in her eyes, I see the oasis of love in my high desert lonely life.
Mario:
How do I write a poem?
I love her but have not a spoken a word.
Neruda:
You have the inspiration, put in some romantic words.
On a beautiful moon lit night, I wonder who is prettier,
When I look at you, I forget about the moon.
Knit together love, loneliness, fear, and tears of heart,
Into a beautiful tapestry of emotions and feelings that mask your heart,
Stitch some metaphors, make it a heartwarming comforter.
it isn't what it is
it is what it isn't
a window
a prism
a lens
a schism
fresh metaphors and similes
the light from which the darkness flees
that lets the eye
see what it sees
removing blinds
transforming minds
it isn't what it is
it is what it isn't
"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
-Anaïs Nin
"Art isn't the truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth"
-Pablo Picasso
donkey ungroomed doomed a wicked whirlwind
grains of wisdom wrinkle sand, dust devitalise
L a n d
here there everywhere _______ nowhere
in eyes, on kitchen table
parched lips pouting, tears tormented fell
drying …
dry gin in glass ghosted verbs, adjectives metaphors, s o n n e t s
a rake on untended farm stood patient
soft sobbing sorrel soil insipid stood
debts piled manic manure mounting
scalp itched his wordy craft crumbling
haikus, verses, vignettes spotted louder
than waiting w i l l o w s
white hair falling, skin f l a k e d
he failed to vision journal, his altar dismantled
an ODE to rip from protruding ribs
too much unsaid, torrents tortured gestate
epics waiting to birth cannot speak nor write
cannot read nor recite
dusty throat bone dry, doleful a fugue lay
faraway in another land, a wooden room
in her fist tight, his voice she secretly held
l e f t his heartfelt poems on dilapidated shelf parcelled with cracked crockery ________
her scribbles on a sheet of toilet tissue he flushed away with dried beetles ~
hens cackled unfed, goats roamed untended
fish-moths party under Victorian linen bled
dust on books, pamphlets, photographs
letters speaking to women dead - - -
Pablo Neruda winked from a harbour along with broken spectacles
his shattered mind broke open
alliteration absent without leave
poetry unspoken fell like beads from silent noose
around neck oozing sweat
an escape beckoning
where to, where from, how long…?
a one-eyed pond with geese watched their
Dusty Poet with his wreaths of unraveled poetry writhing
water lilies fading, dragonflies floating with dust
a buried diary and on farm to be found
skull
_____________________________—-______-
Captain of the most distant islands
living poem among my prose
that each one was exchanging for roses
with the moonlight and wandering mornings
II
You loved as few have loved
with crazy sea and clear letter
the greatest poet who remained in us
as he calmly portrayed ...
III
The island was your light and your horizon
witnessed your lot, luck
let me read my verse
IV
Time mate here awaits you
beyond this letter and this death
I follow your companion brand ...!
PS TRANSLATION / ADAPTATION OF THE POEM by alkas poetry
SONET OF POETISA ADELA CARPORAL
POEMS FOR PABLO NERUDA.
~~~Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite~~~
An all round performer was Mr William Kite
He trained and rode horses, but also walked the rope tight
He worked for Pablo Fanqué the Wells Circus owner in 1842
But his work gave inspiration for John Lennon to do.
Mr William Kite would never have dreamed.
That his skills as a performer would inspire a song theme
As he performed on his head, while balancing on a rope
A trumpet in his mouth, and he played a damn fine note.
When he was with John Sanger, who was equestrian minded
William appeared for a spectacular night, the poster has reminded
The celebrated horse called Zanthus was even there
With Mr William Kite to perform - boy what a pair
This poster impressed John Lennon so...
It inspired him to write about William and the show
Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite, the poster does show
Inspired quite a few lyrics as all Beatles fans will know.
What they may not know - but I am impressed
There is a man called David with whom I am blessed
He is the great great grandson of William by whom Lennon was inspired
But better than that David is my half brother it has so transpired.
The Beatles Album Cover is "Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heartclub" which potrays the poster of Mr Kite