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Best Poems Written by Eduardo Escalante

Below are the all-time best Eduardo Escalante poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Do Minor With Missing Key

1
On the way to where
We were going
Tense tone
Late spring
Not a march on the desert

2
We talk about faults,
Hours spent,
Hand-stitched crystals
Things on dry land, on secure land

3
Someone had an old clock
Which he never took out for us to see.
He said that his role was changing

Obstacles
Flashing

4
We cut a length
In spite of difficulties with liquid sapphires,
The smell of sadness went away

5
Yes, some of that is true,
Although, it was not everything.
I need the torch
To light every drop.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

The Bullet Holes In the Walls: Byung-Chul Han

In the sloping corners of humankind hangs the skeleton.
Ghosts are not hidden and flowers are exhausted,
Although some folds shelter beauty and
the old man can smile for some seconds
while he scratches the sky looking for
a ball that may glitter inside all.
The players cannot find the secret of the elegy,
While history dress only with one color
It is not the hour for a pilgrim. Many are left
On the side of the road with the lack of revelations.
One must remain faithful to litanies
To the holy reverence to the fatigue society.
Humans are around a corner
It does no matter if a barrel of tar is thrown in their full face.
Mouth and tongue pronounce the morning
Edition of obsessions, although the thickness of
the age and the readiness the long roll deeply sunk
no months to build effigies

I swear, I would die for you, but I have
no austerity for breath. I dream cities without clocks,
they hurt me, then I would add up stone by stone of kindness,
worry about questions, good questions,
and dream cities full of flavors and faces I can touch.

My apologies. It is late.Where there is a city
there is no city.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

Empathy In Darkness

We thought we have two lives,
Al least one real, today none is real.
Apocalypses in the Bible, it was a human episode.
But now a different disaster.
In my mind, only digits I can see,
No birds, no roses, no trees, no fathers, no mothers.
Towns that are not towns.
Urgently, I need to skype Mayans and
Neruda: Is so happens, I am sick to be a man.
The center is an absence, of a point, of infinity.
We need presence.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

Arpeggio A6

Sometime,
Your feet in the mud,
Several hours left,
What is the echo of each step

We need to stop, take a look,
What we have seen is strange
In the way that we travel.
I branched out, I open myself to the dark
And the bright. First my form,
seen and known.

Nothing prepares us for the truth
Of gestures and silence,
More difficult in its most abstract form.
Our steps hold us as
A pure philosophy of dreams.
Press the thumb on the temple,
Inquire into the length of the braided rope
And cling to the steep wall.
Know if we live among eroded raindrops
And the acceleration of the clocks.

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The Night Does Not Turn Off the Imagination

In the folds of the hills
Where the concern lies
And houses are put in the inclined land

The old lady, Manuel's mother
Of Jorge and Isabel
Lived Jaime and Isabel
Lived Jorge and Amanda his wife
Lived the widow of Roberto
The widow's teenager
lived Felipe and Luis 
Lived Alejandra
Until the February fire.
Now they live in another fold.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

Grey Optimism

In my dreams, nothing has ever been so clear.
In my dreams.

Not passion, but
exhaustion, 
heavy sky pressing my mind
hoping for higher, higher
clinging sideways and down the ceiling. 
Days touching nothing.

IF I’ve listened to you.
Seeing the world is not capturing the world.
I am a fragile thing.

The priest mouth full of words
Does not attenuate thirsty for silence dying.

But, strangely alive
The birds will come,
Praying keep me awake
Fire, ash, wind. I wait

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A Modern Form

No frames of Arts
No articulation of the tongue to fight
Words
low enough to skip
the storm

Sing the silence

A circular dream that does not want to be woken up

Words plugged into their stammer
worries stack up without pause
Like something drilling.


I stare into the fire.
I close my eyes. That makes a dark line mine.

The finger beats the guitar without strings.

An hour to think.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

Dictator

I woke up with a feeling
to change the light in this garden.
But all I could find you trying to land
in my secrets with your big jaw.
I see your shape undulating in a swamp
And the composition in the bottom of your eyes.

Not in vain I dig to find the way
To true waves
And with a needle mends the broken pieces

An anchor was thrown into the flesh of your figure.
You are the one that does not recognize 
the fly of a bird and only the Wasteland.

Yes, you, carboniferous man,
There’s nothing in your story that’s human. 
You always ride dirty railways through obscure corners.

Coward, you ran down to ruinous walls
Look at the shades that darkened the twilight (see the
Shades that darkened at twilight)
Look at all the tracks on the sidewalk of power (look at all the tracks
Of power)
In your dream where the penumbra still lies (in the dream where
Still, lies the gloom).

I blow your fire with the smell of
Sacred wine, imploring for an eighth
Day.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

The Thin Human Line and the Digital Explosion

You love the touch of your hand
Your body without floor
As on an orange bed of fog
It seems you do not hold hand
You are twelve feet tall
It is more sensual a road without frontiers
Nobody touches your footprints
A desire to open with your index finger
And your liquid-crystal eyes
a cloister with thousands of years
to polish the sound of your brain
and to walk farther than any limits
or directions sustaining all without a sound
and a body. Where the line ends or
if there is nobody it does not matter.

Details | Eduardo Escalante Poem

About Love

This night, the moon shining at the window
There are some noises tonight
Tonight there are some noises to build love
There are some noises tonight

Not all angels look alike, not all, my love!
With some there's nothing left but
a few delusions:
your shadow in the dark.

Some angels hide miseries in their breath
And change postures to love, but 
they do not love.
Need to change ways to love