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Best Poems Written by Francisco Lopez

Below are the all-time best Francisco Lopez poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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In Search of the Unclouded Friendship

Let us talk of each other.
Why should we wear this mask?
Let us be confidential.

Who knows, we might become friends.

"You come too late” - He would answer-
I am a dead man now.
I have neither eyes nor ears, but
I can hear the others talking and laughing,
and you come quite close.

I am mostly a cold, unkindly sort of man
and people seem far away from me
for no actor can come upon the stage with a worse grace.
I have been a buffoon very fond of jokes:
- a singular being -.

This as if there were a circle around me,
which kept everyone out, but you.
This moment is the reward of my life.


Anyway you had better be anywhere but here.
Kind of a dream of musing.

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The Leaden Crown

Is then the crown too heavy that I wear?
It is not made of gold or silver but of lead and mental garbage;
yet it is bright
it flaunts some embedded gems around it,
they represent some good things that have happened throughout my life.

I, the wearer, can't see the shines that it reflects
far flashings alike those of a lighthouse.
My brain seems to beat against the solid rim.

The Crown can´t hold in this steel skull of mine;
the sort that needs no helmet in the most fright battering fight.

And now this king has become old,
an antique buried into antiquities
so with yet a broken throne.

The "great gods" (or the people who shared and to whom I gave my youth),
mock that captive king.
Now all my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.


But this Old King
Though bodily unharmed, it uttered cries,
as some king´s ghost in supernatural distress.
leaving drifted the relics of old time.

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Entering the Perfect Partner

Let´s meet the happy-go-lucky man;
full-blooded,
neither craven nor valiant,
taking life as it comes with a touch of indifferent air,
good-humored, easy-going,
careless and not jealous.
Just It wouldn´t be bad to beam him a bit of mundane grandeur to be a perfect partner.

If it was not because...
We are actually referring  to a dummy

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The Golden Palace

We go to the Golden Palace:
We set out the jade cups.
We summon the honored guests.

To enter the Golden Palace.
You enter through the Golden Gate
And go to the Golden Hall.

In the Eastern Kitchen, the meat is sliced and ready.
Roast beef and boiled pork and mutton.

The Master of the Feast hands round the wine.
The harp-players sound their clear chords.
The cups are pushed aside and we face each other at chess:
The rival pawns are marshaled rank against rank.
The fire glows and the smoke puffs and curls.

From the incense-burner rises a delicate fragrance.
The clear wine has made our cheeks red
Round the table joy and peace prevail.

May those who shared in this day’s delight
Through countless autumns enjoy like felicity.

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Me Myself and I

How´s possible the same person maybe three different people?

Me, myself, and I.
Sort of a Holy Trinity but in human version.

Quite irrelevant but interesting and singular experience,
one day I think and behave in a different way than tomorrow or after.
¡Being the same person!
Sort of Cerberus. Three indomitable heads for a beaten dog body.

Three different personalities, pretending to be a single individual.
But nevertheless. I  completely agree and assume it.

Me. Myself and I.
That´s all I got at the end of a long life.

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Man and the Riddle

What is that which is always becoming and never is?
This image we call Time.
What are those which are always becoming and never are?
This image we call Men
And to the voice which they heard coming from the passing shadows,
we call it Echo of the conscience.

In eternity you can appreciate
The diffuse figures of them circling as in dance
running about at the Dionysiac festivals,
and presenting a strange variety of appearances
diffuse as, when rain stirs.

Men if the created copy is to accord with the original
in order that each of them might attain the highest perfection
the copy became the ally of sundry pleasures and satisfactions
can´t see the reluctant and unsociable nature of the other into himself.

Original or copy. Which was the swiftest to fall?
I don´t know, but secretly
I am glad to be honored by lesser and meaner people.

Although they constantly invoke the aid of gods and goddesses.
Men are like the punning riddles
equal in number to the stars
but just they don´t shine at night.
and finally, they merge in the dark

Now the nature of the ideal being was everlasting,
and ephemeral the nature of common men,
moving in the universe of the diverse,

A profound theory, although in reality
these words are just a random manner of speaking.

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The Decay of the Dwell of Minos

This is The Dwell of Minos,
noble Castle of human wit and learning.

Minos, the King of Crete, so renowned for justice,
symbol of a noble soul.

Here, hidden stands The Temple
where The Sixfold Hexagon in two divides,
judges from the dead.

The grandeur of Minos
along with Radamantis and Éacos, (The Three Judges of Death)
grow smaller and smaller
as they descend from the noble Crete,
into a place mute of all light.
Where wit and learning are unknown.
Where human Judges of Death, are unknown

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What a Fine Frosty Night

What a fine frosty night!
He dives himself and gets into his ice palace made of frozen memories.
Alike an iceberg, people only can see the tiny peak,
but from bottom to top the iceberg becomes a strong watchtower.

Maybe there is plenty of icy dust yet to come,
But it´s solemnly forbidden to anybody to get close and scrape the existing ice.

Death is the master freezer,
but this preacher´s text is just about the blackness of darkness
And I don´t need a master´s lesson anymore.
It´s too late to make any improvements.
So far I prefer the solitude
and the whiteness and lightness
although it's colder

So far. Good day!
What a fine frosty day!

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Going To the Future

Long before I had reached the top
it was written that I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice;
as for my own guilty terrors,
all of them accompanied me on the road home.

I saw my future as a silent movie,
the most you can already hope from it, is some knowledge of yourself,
a crop (as a reward for sowing) of inextinguishable regrets,
and I made it a reality.

But, not only did I have the courage to live it
even I colored and painted it with the ability and sensitivity
of a landscape painter.

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The Ultimate Privilege

Allow me the privilege of making my own hell with my own coals