Long Senor Poems
Long Senor Poems. Below are the most popular long Senor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Senor poems by poem length and keyword.
Como’ Si’ Yama’, Senor’
Como’ Si Yama’, Por Favor’…
… for Below That Embroidered Sombrero’
Shone Eyes Like El Dorado
He Was A Tall and Handsome Hombre’
Like The Range of Sierra Madre’
…Now, He Sat Center The Cantina
Surrounded by Bonita – Senhoritas
He Smiled, “Buenos-Dias Senora’”
Por Favor, Por Que’ El-Hora’ ?...
If So, Have A Seat, Mi- Amiga’
And Mercedes, Bring Over More Cerveza
He Was… Rodrigo Reyes-Pacheco’
Best - of The West, of Vaqueros’
He Came to Compete in The Rodeos
And Win Fame and Fortune in Pesos’
He Came Thru El Paso De’ Tejas
Thru Dusty Rancheros and Mesas
To Ride on El Toro Rojo
Who Has Never Been Ridden Befo’…
La Viva’… Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’ !... Rodrigo
Now, El Toro Rojo, Was Dangerous
For Killing Men, El Rojo, Was Infamous
His Horns Had Pierced Many A Corazon
Ripped Flesh, Like It Was Piñata’ Hung
I Informed All of This To Rodrigo
The Hombre, Was Bent on Being Macho’…
… He Would Ride Toro Rojo, Manyana’
Said “Gracias”… But My Cares Were Por Nada’ !
La Viva’… Arriva’… Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’!... Rodrigo
… Now, He Wasn’t Loco in La Cabeza’
I Just Didn’t Comprehende’ … “Que’ Pasa”
But I Saw Rodrigo Atop… El Rojo
… ! He Rode Like A Latino – Tornado ! …
He Rode El Rojo, To The End…
Then, Turned ‘Round and Rode Him Again…
Rodrigo had Won… Just Like He Planned…
Because El Toro – Rojo … … Was Mexican !
La’ Viva’ … Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero
Champion Bull Rider from Old Mexico
Vaya’ … Con Dios ! … Rodrigo….
Vaya’ … Con Dios !... Rodrigo o o o o o
for Ruben Ortellao...
I Don't Really Know
What Your Branch of Humanity is...
(Spanish, French or Other)
But I thought You Might Like
This Whimsical Poem...
Oh... And Thank You For Your
Most Generous Comments...
(Cause I Know You Are A Fantastic Poet...
I've Read Several of Yours
and I Love Them Too...)
(P.S. Excuse the Spelling...
I'm Spanish Illiterate (Smile)
MoonBee
My name, it is Reginald,
and I’ve got a story to tell,
some folks, they will not like it,
they’ll cry out,”Go to hell!”
You see my wife beside me?
it wasn’t always this way,
’cause for the past ten years now,
I’ve been living an ex-gay.
If this makes no sense, relax,
some days it barely does to me,
all I can say is that it started
All the way back in puberty.
In the locker rooms in high school,
I gazed with hungry eyes,
never tried to deny it,
I was attracted to guys.
My first time was senor year,
with a friend-of-a-friend,
in the backseat of his car,
where we did not have to pretend.
And when I went off to college
it was just like a vast buffet,
with professors so accepting,
good lord, how did I play…
But later in my junior year
something strange happened to me,
I found myself staring hard
at a woman of great beauty.
She was a junior professor,
and oh, the shape she had…
but I shook it off as crazy,
maybe I’d taken something bad?
And although I brushed it off,
a week later in came again,
this time an Asian cheerleader
when over she did bend.
All senior years I’d catch myself
sneaking girls a lusty glance,
but I kept seeing the fellows,
convinced I was a gay man.
After college it grew slowly,
found myself going on the net
to admire the female form,
but I couldn’t admit it yet.
Predictably, my relationships
never traveled a sunny path,
and at twenty-six I met a man
but knew it would never last.
Three weeks in he was out of town,
I went down to a local club,
got real drunk, picked up a girl,
took her home and we made love.
And still I couldn’t say it,
I kept on putting up a front,
but when backs turned I went out
to get myself some…fun.
Finally that boyfriend left me,
and I spent the next two years
going to shrinks, talking to priests,
confused and full of fear.
It was only sitting in a park,
on a bright and crisp morn,
that I bumped into a woman
who’s eyes promised so much more.
At first I feared she’d run from me
if she heard the messy truth,
but then years later we stand here
still bound by a love true...
Spanish verse:
Oh, oh woo oh;
Oh, oh woo oh, oh
Oh, oh woo oh;
Solo quiero una alguien que me encanta;
Todo lo que necesito es alguien que se preocupa;
I just want one someone one to love me
I just want one someone one to love me
Solo quiero una alguien que me encanta;
Todo lo que necesito es alguien que se preocupa;
Quiero que alguien en algun lugar, para compartirMi vida;
Solo quiero una alguien a amarme;
Lba a ser su esposo, voy a ser su esposa;
Y en y en va Para siempre y hoy en dia;
Todo esto y decir pido...
Solo quiero una alguien para amarme;
Todo, todo lo que necesito es alguien que se preocupa;
Compartir la gloria del Senor;
Ver la puesta de sol y subida de la manana;
Celebrar los dias que hemos nacido;
Woo, oh, oh, oh, oh
Quiero a alguien que sostenga mi mano;
Me dicen que yo soy su hombre;
Que no puede entender;
es en plan de dioses
Solo quiero una alguien que me encanta;
Todo lo que necesito es alguien que se preocupa;
Todo lo que necesito es alguian
Dios envia
English verse:
Oh, oh woo oh;
Oh, oh woo oh, oh
Oh, oh woo oh;
I just want one someone to love me;
All I need is someone one who cares;
I just want some one somewhere, to share my life;
I just want one someone to love me;
I'd be their husband, she'll be the wife;
And on and on goes on;
Forever and today;
All of this I say, I pray...
I just want one someone to love me;
All, all I need is someone, one who cares;
Share the glory of the Lord;
Watch the sunset and rise in the morn;
Celebrate the days we were born;
Woo, oh, oh, oh, oh;
Want someone to hold my hand;
Tell me that I'm their man;
Who can't understand;
Is it in Gods plan;
I just want one someone to love me;
All I need is someone one who cares;
All I need is someone one who cares;
All I need is someone
God sends?
08/17/17
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
arranged music by Michael Block
Inspired & Dedicated to Poetess fellow Souper
"Pandita Sanchez"
El Segundo walks boards and he doth show
good balance warning native youths who dare
to make him stumble they must show some care.
Then carriage he now leads to colonnade,
and waits for family's entry three to share
but finds that Dona Rose has new plans made.
"If he'd bring the carriage," Dona Rose interrupted husband's reply,
"I'd be eternally grateful."
"Si senor," Don Hernandez continued, "You do us a great favor by such
common courtesy. Thank you."
"It's nothing, Excellency," he bowed smiling broadly at Margarita.
Margarita didn't like smile. It was the same smile he'd used in church
waiting for host and cup. It was a lecherous smile making her feel
unclean. She turned taking mother's arm.
"Look mama," she said, "it's stopped raining. If we stay on boards, we'll be safe."
Indian boys, directed by mission brothers, had laid boards in tandem from
colonnade to carriages. Boards were supported at link points on piles of
sodden adobe bricks. Boys, ankle deep in muddy water, offered help to
unsteady worshipers. Boards cleared, they played game of throwing mud
at each other again; they dodged, flailed water, taunted with much laughter,
faces, arms and hands more caked over, ruining mission shirt and pants.
Margarita knew they'd be in big trouble later. She doubted whether mother
could walk teetering boards safely without falling. Better to wait for carriage.
Waiting and submitting to ingratiating Huerra wasn't pleasant, but walking boards worse.
Segundo walked the boards. He looked thin, hat too big for his head. Margarita
saw boys laughing at him; she knew they'd try to make him fall. It didn't happen.
When drawing near, he pretended to shoot them with left pointed index finger.
Margarita saw indian boys quickly step away with fright. She remembered
father saying indians feared a left handed man, part of their superstition
mission life couldn't erase.
Maria Flores
1878-1923
Si, he was muy macho!
I was the last to see him.
Before Senor White sealed his body for eternity,
Inside the cheapest casket I had ever seen!
And I was working there, for White-Emerson,
From the time I was 16,
Combing the dead’s hair, and mixing make-up.
Señora White, she put the make-up on their faces,
And I stood back by the door and watched.
At first, it was two or three bodies a week,
Mostly white folk, stiff and cold as ice;
They were Whittier people I did not know;
Older folk with life’s road behind them,
And young childer, brought in by wailing parents,
Dead from sickness and accident.
I prayed for these poor people because they were sad.
Later, the visits of the ever-marching dead,
Became a more common event,
Every day he, Señor White, brought the dead in,
Every day I combed their hair.
This I did until I myself died in 1923,
Giving birth to my still-born son.
Then it was my turn for Señora White,
To apply my face with fake life;
Her creams, rinses and perfumes, magically,
Made me appear as alive as I was.
But oh, I wish now to trick fake death,
And live again,
Be there again,
Down in the dark embalming room,
There at White Emerson, with him.
Si, he was muy macho!
And yes, I was the girl to love Roscoe last!
Me, a nobody Mexican with little money.
Shh, let us whisper now.
Let us be quiet and honest;
I was the last one to coddle him there,
The last to stroke his lifeless bill,
My eagle of a man!
There in the still darkness,
He, the most handsome boy,
My eyes had ever seen!
Dead and lifeless there,
In my secret embrace!
Dead in my controlling grasp!
I combed his locks for two hours,
And prayed, yes, I prayed,
For his departed soul, and body too,
For, let it be known to all,
For it no longer matters at all,
I was the last girl to have him.
Muy Macho!
Don Jose wondered why men whispered low
not knowing they discussed his daughter fair.
"I'll talk to Miguel when we get to Luis Ore, Segundo.
He can persuade his brother to make Margarita marry me. Don Miguel
and I don't like each other very much, but we do business together and
it wouldn't be good for him if he displeased me. Does he have a way to ship
hides or move cattle unless it's across my land? No Segundo, we wouldn't
allow him to do that if he's unreasonable, would we?"
El Segundo's pale thin lips parted evilly.
"No patron, I don't think we could. We might let him get his cattle a
little way on to de Plata, but whose to say what might happen then. A
sudden stampede's not too uncommon when bullets are fired. My patron,
I've seen cows go over the edge of cliffs when frightened. It'd be a
shame if Don Miguel lost cattle that way."
"What you say has some merit, amigo. It's certainly something to think
about, eh?"
Don Huerra put his arm around Segundo's skinny shoulders. In good nature
they had a laugh together.
Don Jose turned asking in surprise, "What are you laughing about, Senor Huerra?
I don't think the possibility of getting wet is humorous."
"El Segundo thinks it's a good joke on us that God makes it rain when we're
least prepared. He thinks, Excellency, he's so thin he could step between rain drops
without getting wet, so light he could walk on water. He's not worried about
muddy boots. We laugh, Excellency, because we think his self description
might be true. It would be Segundo's pleasure, Don Hernandez, for him
to bring your carriage around for your family's convenience."
Huerra's quick dissimulation came from practice; he often used a lie to
save a situation or serve a purpose. Don Huerra wasn't bothered with
conscience for he'd met that still small voice years ago and had throttled it.
No doubt there are some folks who will scoff at the concept I propose,
But I think God chose courageous leaders when times of adversity arose.
He's done a pretty good job of selecting people who acted with determination,
To bring triumph out of chaos leading others to their ultimate salvation!
He selected Moses to lead His people out of bondage to the Promised Land.
Through many trials and tribulations they reached freedom under his command!
He chose a Babe to lead His Kingdom here on earth for the redemption of man.
Though He was rejected and was to die on The Cross, He rose to rule again!
Washington was named to break the bonds of tyranny that bound this nation.
He faced formidable obstacles - lesser men would have given up in frustration!
God wisely chose Lincoln who led a broken nation with wisdom and resolve.
Though facing untold challenges he persevered that a united nation might evolve!
That mighty oak, Roosevelt, led the nation to victory during World War Two.
God named him the leader and gave him the strength to see the battle through!
Surely God chose Martin Luther King to deliver his message of reconciliation,
To strive for the integration of all races and religions of this great nation!
Senor Luis Urzua, the hero of the Chilean mine disaster and highly respected boss,
With superb leadership reunited 33 miners with their families without a single loss!
To list all great leaders who by God's grace have emerged down through the ages,
Is certainly beyond my meager abilities but would fill tomes and tomes of pages!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Now further conversation taking place
described the safe, best way of stacking hides.
Ingenious method used filled hold's small space,
accomplished by the means of pulleys, glides.
One might think way could weaken vessel's sides.
"Only to four feet of the beams, sir. Next comes the hard part called "steeving",
the way of crowding hundreds of hides into a space only a few could be place by hand."
"How is such a thing done?"
"By use of blocks, tackles, and dogs. It's a matter of leverage."
"I don't think I follow."
"A large "book" is made from twenty-five to fifty hides, doubled at backs, and
placed one within the other, to leave but one outside hide for the book. Back of the
outside hide is inserted between two other hides in the pile. Above and below this
book are placed smooth strips of wood, well greased to make the sliding of the book
easier. The book is forced in by mechanical leverage."
"All very complicated, senor."
"It works very well but demands much strength of the crew in pulling the ropes."
"They must certainly pull together!"
"Mister Huerra, you've put your finger on the most important part of the whole
operation. They must certainly pull together and it's done by song."
"This is very interesting. How can a song help?"
"Sailors need song as soldiers need the fife and drum. Sailors must pull together
as soldiers must step in time. They can't pull in time or with a will without it."
"Si, Senor Huerra," Don Hernandez said, entering the conversation. "We've
often heard their singing from our hacienda. It's stirring, adding color to our life."
12-27-18
Of Laurius' Rancho San Luis Ore,
a distant place, Don Jose now spoke.
"Margarita now speaks of traveling to Luis Ore tomorrow, Don Huerra."
"Is that true? it seems I've arrived at a most auspicious time. Perhaps you'll allow me to give escort? it's been sometime since I've seen your brother and there's matter of some business between us to settle."
"Roads are none too safe, senor, and your offer's much appreciated."
"Then it's agreed! It's my pleasure to be of service to you and your family."
Margarita didn't like idea. She was enduring Don Huerra's presence out of respect for mother and father, but inclusion in entourage unbearable. He was wrinkled , hairless, and older than her own father. She didn't like foreman either. He coudn't be a good man because he'd brought a gun into the church.Gun was in a black holster strapped to his left side; many bullets filled places in belt around his waist. Gun was an evil sight, something only a very bad man would think of bringing into the church.
"My children," Father Saez spoke again to the assembly. "Brother Dominque's prepared cheese and milk. Because there's so many of us, please suffer inconvenience of using earthenware cups. These cups have been made by indians and serve us vey well. They're no different from any used in your homes. If they don't please you, I'm sorry. They'll all we have. Then too, storm's lessening and I think it'll be possible for you to leave soon."
"I don't drink from 'peon' cups, Jose."
Don Hernandez considered wife; he stroked white goatee in mild agitation.
Greek George Allen
1828-1913
Seegh no mee.
Ah, I see we have not been introduced.
Please, if you will, call me George, George Allen.
In life, I was a greek from Smyrna,
Hired by the United States Army,
Long ago when Buchanan was president,
Employed because of my tenacious skill,
Riding atop a grunting dromedary,
Riding and gliding over the great American landscape,
Bringing the supplies for the Butterfield Overland,
Riding day and night most of the time,
From St. Louis to my final home, Los Angeles;
The American Camel Corps we were!
The eight of us: Me, Mico, Long Tom, Short Tom,
And the others, all hard as quartz;
To the virgin western wilderness we went,
Never slowing down our momentous movements,
Or ever looking back in timid fear.
And so, with sweaty craft, and
A satchel full of lucky days,
We completed the route in a year!
And as for the notorious Senor Tiburcio, well,
Do not judge this old skeleton here!
I let him live out back in my stable house;
I minded my own business!
It was either that, or
A single gunshot to my head!
“Eese malaka!”
But I never saw any reward money, I swear,
When the relentless inexorable law
Finally captured and led him to the gallows;
“Pronto.”
This dirt here, senor, belongs to you!
Seegh no mee.
I must leave you now,
And find rest in this calming Mexican dirt,
Here in shady Mt. Olive Cemetery.