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Best Poems Written by Nino Beduya

Below are the all-time best Nino Beduya poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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My Barber

My barber on a bicycle looked solved
looked so content 
Henpecked by his wife he used to go
to a cockfight every Sunday of the week
It was his only vice as far as I could tell
He cuts hair He shaves He gives a massage
I sit on his chair for a few minutes and watch
locks fall from my head The crown I wear before breakfast
Someone said I look like a soldier
This means war I suppose
but my barber just sits & waits
with an amused look on his face
sometimes wistful sometimes sad
sometimes worth a penny or more
or a pen so I write him down
as a record of his quiet dignity
like a boulder that glows
in the middle of the night

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Son

I no longer go out a lot because of you
I'm happy for it I would rather save 
for your future or for the toys you 
would want to buy and show to your friends
I have had many friends We had carried each other
Even now I see that you will grow up
to be a leader, a hero, a voice
It is easy for you to stand out or blend in
It is easy for you to beam 
But shadows fall
There is a wound in the dark
So I keep my distance
I return to my cave
In time I will explain
Even now you ask
I see it in your eyes
Sometimes you even avoid me
But we will be together again
You and your sister
We will go to the park
We will look at the birds
You will wonder about many things
You will be thrilled
just as I was thrilled when you were born
like a sun burning inside your mom's womb
In a room filled with dread 
the light of your eyes drove it away
We would break the bread the next day
but you were too young to receive it
A baby in the woods indeed
A flower that springs from my seed
in order to be his own language
his own edifice 
Such solemn songs would you compose
from solitude or solid ground
as I set at the end of the day

Details | Nino Beduya Poem

Soiree

Merciless in your rebukes you walked up to me,
subtle, substantial, sophisticated & sarcastic & I liked
every minute of it, I liked the shame & humiliation
you put me through, the crystal chandelier
that was the highlight of my disgrace
the way our lips almost touched, but not quite
for you pulled them away just in time to leave mine
hanging in midair. You were stunning & dazzling
in your dark evening gown with the jewels
wrapped around your neck & the pearls dangling from your ears,
I would have liked to have more of you, test you, taste you, try you out,
touch you, tussle with you, breathe you in, savor the succulence
of your skin, steal you from the moment’s void
before the walls collapse, eclipse, cave in,
but you had to walk away, you had to rein in,
leaving me with nothing but a lasting sensation
of a rude & abrupt dislocation
from something that was almost immortal,
the transient lucidity of a wayward waltz with a dream

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Marks

Etched on the edges of a woods
are the names of two lovers
We've seen it all before
With a knife the boy would carve her name beside his
perhaps after a picnic
The tree wouldn't mind of course
The tip of the knife would probably just tickle it
before the lovers leave for good
But as far as the old tree is concerned
nothing seems to distinguish these marks
from the ones we see on the grave
Somewhere along the way the two would meet
The name of death beside the name of love
that a god has scribbled on his notebook
while he was out having fun

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Exile

If you're in exile then why do feel
so close giving advice across the cold
of cyberspace Through it I tell you
what is going on but I don't have 
to explain everything You infer the rest
on your own We share a common history
but maybe not a common fate You who shared
mom's womb with me for nine months
What were your dreams then and what if any
are your dreams now? Do you still hear
the voices of the place we used to call
our home? Do you still see our faces
when you close your eyes in your part
of the world? People ask if I know
what you're thinking right now
With words I fill the gap you fill
with your vast silence like yin & yang
or two sides of the same coin we toss
in a well From the same well we draw
the water our father would use 
for a hot cup of coffee at dawn

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Pool

To drown in the flood of my mother's womb
I had no time before I was conceived
My clock only started to tick when dad kissed my mom
for the first time It was when his seconds met hers 
For every generation there is a kiss
and there is also the afternoon
Does the afternoon ever change? Yes there will be
days when it rains but does this make the afternoon
less than what it is? Was I conceived in the afternoon?
Without a doubt I was conceived with a kiss
Time is universal but it is not everything
for the cosmos is a lot bigger than what we expect or imagine it to be
It is not inconceivable that there is a universe without time
as much as time ends when someone dies
Memories surface but even memories fail
They fade They select I'm not a part of someone's memories
right now Someone I have never met but through dreams
we're connected In dreams everything can happen
at the same time or, at least, everything that matters
Thus it is undermined It is no longer just a straight line
but perhaps a point in space like dust or ash
Like you and me
Some day we will no longer be a part of it
A part of a kiss
A part of the afternoon
They say that infinity is forever
but forever is too short too soon

Details | Nino Beduya Poem

Writing

I pick up my pen
I set out to write
Nothing comes out
Not the birds nor the bees
Not the busy streets
Not the poor boy begging for alms
If my pen does not comply 
it is not entirely my fault
Maybe it is just not inspired
Maybe it is looking for a partner pen
A companion whose ink is red or white
Maybe today my pen does not want to be alone
Would I write with both hands at the same time
Write in English and another tongue
until the words meet right in the middle of my journal
right at its spine
as the right pen kisses the tip of the left
red ink mingling with black
making love on top of the page
before I sign my name

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What I Relish the Most About Last Night's Feast

When she cried tears of joy
it is rare I'm sure
You look forward to it too
For she was thoroughly entertained
She was the center of our attention
while she glowed to fill the room with her being
her being pure sincere demure
It touched my heart although it was a bit to bear
And when she touched my arm
I knew that she remembered

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The House At 1 Pm

The house at 1 pm is solemn
In another place it would've been a mess
Kids would be running around
Wrinkled old men would be getting in the way
but now is the complete opposite
There is a gentle breeze Everything is calm
Perfect for writing or meditating or inviting a friend
to visit the grave while we open a bottle of Coke Light
We used to do this when we were young
I had no idea what it meant
Now things start to fall into place
like a key that unlocks the future at exactly 1 pm
Just like that ;)