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Best Poems Written by Marcela Villar M

Below are the all-time best Marcela Villar M poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Thirsty Border

Tired of the soil and of death
dreams caught you crossing
trying a one way trip.
You've eaten the flesh and the eyes
from the trees that one day looked at you,
but you are today an unforgiving desert
watered with blood,
separating the injustices
in unequal fractions
.
.
.


F
A
L
L
E
N

.
.
.
You fall a thousand times...


Fall your starving children,
dying of thirst and punishment,
imprisoned from hope,
with empty arms 
.
.
.





© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014

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Murky

Carrying disturbing 
rubbish
from polluted hands


River still singing
Life
still running strong
but as insults given 
by bystanders on the shore
is the vomit
of our carelessness.




© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014

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Our Infamy

Another day void of daydreaming,
a clean smile has perished, drowned
under our policies of greediness.


The oceans of the planet won’t hide
our infamy or conceal our sins.
Perfectly pure hands have been crucified 
on a cross of sanctified water.


Sad lamentations carrying over
of never ending horrific crying.
The lifeless body of an infant 
looking at us,
brushed ashore by hunger.




© All rights reserved. Marcela Villar M. Author 2015

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New

Life passes by, 
enters into a new reality each day;
each instant becomes altered.


Have we changed?




© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2015

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Fragmented Poetics

I think sometimes, 
in an effort to sell reflections 
of life,
egotistic mirrors 
break themselves 
into a million pieces.


Fractured verses,
bent and poisoned,
deformed from the ill-treatment 
of delicate lines;
echoes of poetry.



©All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2014

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Sin

There is great sin in the hands of men.
Sin in the hands with blood.
Sin in hands of men with no face.
A sin who speaks and says: HATE!
A sin who speaks and says: MINE!


And we speak from our own sin and we say: NOTHING…
And we speak from our own sin and we say: SILENCE…
The voices are quiet when death passes by.
The streets seem empty when death passes by.
The buildings do not stand when death passes by.


There is great sin in the hands of men.
There is great sin in the hands of Israel.


But God is watching and before you know,
Oh, Israel, your arrogance will be turned into sorrow again.




© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2015

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Hands

To Philip Lavine (1928-2015 USA) 


I saw the announcement.
The one of your passing.
It’s just that it came to me
among all other messages,
one that said you had left for
other lands,
but I did not stop
to look at you on the road.


Today I heard your voice full
of memories,
ancient poet.


The lyrics of your weary hands,
those of the man
of an exploited people,
emerging even more powerful
than ever.


I was just so busy fighting
among the wreckage
of dead words,
that I did not see the poetry
of your verses passing next to me
towards their eternal rest.




© All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2015
Written in my car on East Lake Sammamish, in the Seattle area, WA USA, on the 21st of February of 2015, about the death of the great poet Philip Levine on Saturday, a winner of the Pulitzer Prize. He was perhaps the only Poet Laureate I wanted to meet, and I know many poets awarded with many prizes, but I'm oh so hard to impress. However, I felt an affinity with him. He is from that generation of poets never to be born again.
I close my eyes to hear him read his poetry, and that is Poetry itself, even though I've only had that pleasure thanks to NPR and similar sites. I wanted the chance to meet him, now we have to leave it for another time. I love you, great poet; my eyes are filled with rain coming out of this forest that surrounds me. Poetry weeps for you...

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Love

Essence defining thoughts
emerging from the core of life.
A glow coming from your voice.
Love.




©All rights reserved. Author Marcela Villar M. 2015