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Greg Jr Torres Poem
Recourse
The old man bends his
knees-
to the graveyard of
speech.
His barren stretched arms
raise up.
Orates the last
of his unpronounced
plea,
for a piece of sky,
for a grip of dust.
Unresolved.
Like that of a master
and his beast
unwilling
to pull the bondage
of labour and grin.
The latter's breath
of unspelled words
reveals a stealth
of cracked soil,
a labyrinth of deep
and shallow wounds-
of the earth. Touch-
me-not grows
and blooms and suckles
from these breasts of hardened
inaudible numbness.
The quiet morning dew,
splinters over the barrow
a thousand bits, a handful of stain.
Gone is the deafening
first flight
of light, salvages, salvages-
a gentle sigh, the slightest
of touch,
from an old and cunning
man, to the silhoutte of
scorched earth; an impasse
between the obvious
and the pale.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
i
edge of a hill
spring
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
The Flamenco Dancer and The Bull
The acoustics of your snuffle
is an absolution
of a descending staccato
in an E chord.
Behold, my lancing third,
an urgency to trick you
with my jalapeño-colored capote,
to mask the stains of your blood
as it oozes, while I thrust
these Romani banderillas
in your neck.
Tease me with impulsive pretence
of your Berber-like invincibility,
while I magnify
your monotonous habits,
triggering the sequel
with the mutiny of these senses
in a most soulful manner.
Beware, my gitano-inspired estoque,
hidden and within a rhythmic beat cycle
in sync with a Moorish chant,
while my arms obliquely stretched
plunging to your bosom,
as I dare to move my hips
in a sultry fashion, to anchor it
in your Andalusian-unceasing being,
Oh! My Iberian-bred tragedy,
consummating my tableau
with your immortal inexistence.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
L E A K
And
you fixed
its shaft
for how many times now?
Would this be the last?
Sedating me
with that
old
familiar
distinctive
tread of
your absence,
a tear
escaped.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
Love is
sweet Like honey So are
your lips
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
And I Will Till the Soil Triumphant
And it came with the rain,
A golden plough soaked in Nectar
Till the soil, the cracks of the soil,
Till the soil, let us pull the dead roots loose.
Are there, am too- let us tear each other's rags,
You lost once, twice- left an open scar,
Bled until no more blood to dry,
The scorched earth has more to yield.
Were there, was too- we were but torn pieces of sweat,
You lost the war under our feet and met the Temptress,
Hail! Your crushed bones and teeth and Seed.
Unhealed wound of parched land seems deathless.
Am triumphant, are not- and will till the soil I have,
I will harvest the bloom of the soil- the good earth,
I will pluck the full fruit now or never,
And it was your thirst for the rain.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
Euclid's Fifth
i. In Motion
It was your pale glance, like a
frame frozen for a second and then
unfreezes, the cold moist from
melting, biting my thoughts of
breaking into your ice-walled
dullness. Tonight the frigid span
of time, muteness, between the
divorce of time and space, thaws
folds and creases of the ice-cold
pause of a scene. While like a
half-frozen mime reflected from a
broken reel, scratchy, fallacious
and recurring, creeps upon its
numbed screen, my rigid,
frostbitten flesh.
ii. On Parallelism
Suckled in the wounds of regret,
better that all these fruits fall, the
green ones no more, bitter
to taste, unripened and dictated to
full, proving you are closest to me,
better that all these fruits fall, than
to pluck them, flick through under
tremulous limbs, with glimpse, with
crave quickening each pauses, I'll
point at them falling, slow and one
at a time.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
Amidst the Blue
Blue is the sea.
Like your eyes
stealing glances at
me. As rough
whenever a frown go
ashore between the
expanse and an open
space, within the
bounds of your most
hidden ire. And as
turbulent like
thoughts of being
alone above water.
Your waves, carried me
away from you, away
from the ripples
which connect me to
you. I'll marry the
sea. I'll tie your
edgeless
extremeties around my
waist and never
look down to the
depths. Too scared
to submerge for I
might loose sight
of you. Only your
fickle surface keeps
me afloat now,
just enough to
realize that the
sky is also as blue
as you.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
i
am
now hear
tears in
silence
am
i
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Greg Jr Torres Poem
Erratum
Dedicated to the women and children at war.
Room unlit, sshe graps the
familiarityy in blackness,
as herr eyes slowly adapt to
reach the siill and peek out the window,
the daark is deeper outside, the
thin glass betweenn her and the dark got
thickeer, awaits the falling ash
from a mill neearby, begins counting, starts with an odd for
her lips got tiredd of murmuring
even, her pace becomes fasster and faster, digits piling up followed by
three dots and a flatline, can't hhold of it much steps backward,
found the edge of thee bed, and lets the weight of
her body fall flat on the mattress, delliberately and intensed, still her
eyes fixed at the window, the "ppouring" halted, the ashes
from where it fell gather turned flesh, rises and
clings at the pane like silhouette of hands,
big and small, like footsteps imprinted on
grey slates that in one stroke will return to ash,
thoughts begin to baffle her,
where are they going now?
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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