Porto Poems - Poems about Porto

How beautiful and discreet, this port, at night, When you listen to fado, come that voice, Misia It becomes deep and mysterious, sonorous, Its numerous lights are warm as wool. How enchanting this port, at night, o night Between the sea and the starry sky that sleeps, Its illiterate cranes are so stupid, yes, Yet they really know the pain of the...

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On the way to Porto for a week's holiday, we drove through a pine forest a man planted forest the way each stood at a respectful distance from each other A year later in high summer, the forest took fire and when flames met on the road, cars were trapped and many people, and families, died in...

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« Porto-Vecchio », song by Julien Doré (Note : If there’s a melody that can slither/sail past the ear-drums imperceptibly and settle permanently in the hypothalamus, this’s it. The sustained tempo in a low key and the husky but soothing and infinitesimally modulating whispered tones of the songster set in a tropical town on a promontary...

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Porto I have lived in Algarve for many years, yes plenty of sunshine but its people have an African conception of time, whether this is caused by arrogance or lack of knowledge I will not speculate to know anything about. Last year I went for a week, holiday in Porto and fund to my surprise people who looked at...

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Darkness she’s bridling my thoughts. Nightmare she is heaving the ropes. My passions they are going astray. Breaching the moral banks. Whose currents I cannot steer. Without the guidance of sense. But the tides are so strong . They can surely drag you along. Towards shallow and murky waters. Where rocks and reefs can damage, your hull of human spirit. And once the hull is ruptured. It’s...

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From door to door until the light, players cruise the Porto night. Endless streams of cat dance haze, private like their secret stays. Loose and warm and smooth and sweet, magic merges into body heat. Oxana dances on her private stage, Daniella lures them into her cage. The Porto river pulls out to sea, and drains the anger out of me. The music flows into...

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Catholic Mass in Porto Sunday evening in Porto my wife went to mass while I sat in the park opposite admiring the grand architecture built in honour of a God. Got restless and walked into the church to see what was going on. It was a titanic church with a roof that stretched all the way...

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Leaving Porto It is six o´clock in the morning a woman is cleaning the pavement outside a bank, and the café across my hotel has just opened. I drink strong coffee and eat a toast there. Only few people about except for middle aged women on their way to a cleaning job in an office or bank, work...

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Bias, one of the Seven, take up neither (when the Persians arrived) an arm such glorious like the Seven for Thebes, nor a book full of wisdom of now. No. There is a talk he said, “Omnia mea mecum porto”, as every beggar says and left (in hidden) the burning and in ruins turned town. There is a talk...

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