A poet i only recently discovered , with his fractured unorthodox approach to language I felt resonate in myself , some can say that may be a difficult read but it is not
Ray Amorosi
Tag Archives: poezia
Ah The Dawn
the moving clouds
buddha puffs
of a slow conscious
scratched awake
by some yearning
for nothing absolute
but unreal
sucked out of a heart
of someone
once and never loved
sun stains
burns and blinds
i yield
and feel no more
5:52 am (world poetry day)
5:52am she woke me up
not properly,
enough for a sleep fuddled embrace
and kiss,
just to say i love you,
i appreciated that,
it is nice to know
at any time
long night after flesh (world poetry day)
fog
a thick rope about my neck
tethered me to harbor wall
goat to oceans sacrifice,
behind obscured
lights and windows of those
who do not feel this way,
having taken the bus
found myself here,
bagged empty bottle
at my feet,
if any cigarette’s remained
i would of lit one
tasted toasted tobacco
tongue on teeth
chin to chest,
dark swirl foam
nymphs invite embrace
no fear in my heart
not the the fear i had felt
before she touched
fingertips before stepping
out of the door
with him,
closed my eyes wished to fall
forward and accept that
deep fate,
yet i flew
leaving behind the wall
and those if they had looked
would of observed
me leaving
World Poetry Day 2014
Letras Canarias 2014 Agustin Millares Sall
Not Worth It
You say it is not worth
putting the blue I sleep under the sheets,
pass by, knowing nothing,
turning a blind eye to what happens,
keep the thirst of stars locked.
You say it’s not worth
losing the love speech,
that reason street,
that joy breaks his words,
that passion confess: there’s no blood.
I tell you not worth
the gray always get away with it,
the black rescind an
and say “cross and Stripes” to Glee air.
‘ll be back to the load and I say here will not be
hiding his head under the wing,
say “did not know”, “I’m outside”,
“living in my tower, and only I know nothing.”
you say, and I repeat it is not worth.
No Vale
Te digo que no vale
meter el sueño azul bajo las sábanas,
pasar de largo, no saber nada,
hacer la vista gorda a lo que pasa,
guardar la sed de estrellas bajo llave.
Te digo que no vale
que el amor pierda el habla,
que la razón se calle,
que la alegría rompa sus palabras,
que la pasión confiese: aquí no hay sangre.
Te digo que no vale
que el gris siempre se salga con la suya,
que el negro se desmande
y diga “cruz y raya” al júbilo del aire.
Vuelvo a la carga y te digo: aquí no cabe
esconder la cabeza bajo el ala,
decir “no sabía”, “estoy al margen”,
”vivo en mi torre, sólo y no sé nada”.
Te digo y te repito que no vale.
Salute
I salute you and greet friend chant
as if I had always known.
can not be wrong after you’ve heard.
Thou art of the sun I’ve waited so long.
Hail friend hug you excited
through the fog through which the day.
With a wealth of poetry and light
the darkest corner had been lit.
The path you teach me I is not unknown.
‘ve gone for it without knowing calm.
before your words reach my soul
and your ideas had burnt my life.
It is true that these years have not lived
, but only the time spent beyond us
that there are higher star without even suspecting
that the great century forging many have passed.
You gave your freedom is like giving everything
for the joy in ringing the bell.
A piece of your life brindas every morning
for the whole world to get out of the mud.
I assure friend who had never been
so close to life at this time.
doubt where your breath comes not possible.
You go by the plain of a clear sky.
Poet I declare that your accent is deep
in the veins that carry the rivers of a planet.
poet I declare that you are a poet
and sing announce that tomorrow the world.
II
I declare that writing poetry poet
is the true state of man
is singing the truth is to call by name
the demon holding the evil day and night.
The poet is the cry that the earth releases
the first mountain currency aurora
bell song playing when
the first heart that hurts the war.
Posted in art without ever untie
his unity with the peoples of the whole vision
the poet is the man who is first to point
to gain impetus to the sea combat.
The poet is the town that refuses to die
in sudden night where everything is forgotten.
Where there is no freedom there is no poet alive.
No bird fly where the air does not exist.
I declare that the poet is a rage
when something goes against the sun to guide us.
poet languishes if the earth cools
when there is no heart, no justice.
Poet I declare that the hard way
of the poet is always found a brother.
poet I declare that the poet is human
but sometimes we do foresee the divine.
Saludo
Yo te saludo amigo te saludo y te canto
igual que si te hubiera de siempre conocido.
No puedo equivocarme después de haberte oído.
Tú eres parte del sol que yo he esperado tanto.
Yo te saludo amigo te abrazo emocionado
a través de la niebla por donde pasa el día.
Con tu enorme caudal de luz y poesía
el rincón más oscuro se hubiera iluminado.
La senda que me enseñas no me es desconocida.
He marchado por ella sin conocer la calma.
Antes que tus palabras me llegaran al alma
ya habían tus ideas incendiado mi vida.
Es verdad que estos años no los hemos vivido
sino sólo pasado que el tiempo nos supera
que hay estrellas más altas sin sospechar siquiera
que forjando el gran siglo muchos han transcurrido.
Diste tu libertad que es como darlo todo
para que la alegría repique en la campana.
Un trozo de tu vida brindas cada mañana
para que el mundo entero pueda salir del lodo.
Yo te aseguro amigo que nunca había estado
tan cerca de la vida como en este momento.
No es posible la duda donde llega tu aliento.
Tú vas por la llanura de un cielo despejado.
Yo poeta declaro que tu acento es profundo
que llevas en las venas los ríos de un planeta.
Yo poeta declaro que tú eres poeta
porque anuncias y cantas el mañana del mundo.
II
Yo poeta declaro que escribir poesía
es decir el estado verdadero del hombre
es cantar la verdad es llamar por su nombre
al demonio que ejerce la maldad noche y día.
El poeta es el grito que libera la tierra
la primera montaña que divisa la aurora
la campana que toca la canción de la hora
el primer corazón que lastima la guerra.
Colocado en vanguardia sin que nunca desate
su unidad con los pueblos su visión del conjunto
el poeta es el hombre que primero está a punto
para hacerse con bríos a la mar del combate.
El poeta es el pueblo que a morir se resiste
en la súbita noche donde todo se olvida.
Donde no hay libertad no hay poeta con vida.
Ningún pájaro vuela donde el aire no existe.
Yo poeta declaro que la cólera es una
cuando hay algo que atenta contra el sol que nos guía.
Languidece el poeta si la tierra se enfría
cuando no hay corazón ni justicia ninguna.
Yo poeta declaro que en el duro camino
del tiempo el poeta se halla siempre un hermano.
Yo poeta declaro que el poeta es humano
aunque a veces nos haga presentir lo divino.
dancer 95
violin bow cu through gelatin
as outstretched arm
folding it under her chin
tremor of strings felt in her loins
of love beyond passion
love beyond denial,
for this man much older
who watched damp eyed
each point and step
holding pose for sulfur flash
yet moonlight and day
better illuminated
caught in a dark place
yet so natural
she would ascend
imprinted and recognized
after camera covered away
she danced
knowing now also caught
on paper in charcoal
it may of been the end
but she reached to the future
moving expressively
beyond fantasy
Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas
Degas self portrait 1895
Ernest Chausson
Helen Hahn performs Ernest Chausson Poeme Op 25
love gone beserk
isolation makes me jump
into the shredding propeller of her tongue
it was Hi 8 and stereo record player
and a sense we belonged,
wiping nose on my hand
then on those jeans strained and faded,
we could make it work maybe,
her nightgown had buttons
linear nipples of distraction,
i would run
if it where not the seventeenth floor
and no closer to heaven,
her voice slowed quicker
than the snow outside,
are we done
gun still pressed in my back waistband
you look done
i felt battered beyond the cut over eye
and bloodied nose,
the projects would have heroes
i was not one of them,
failing to hold up the store
girl cashier
younger
faded blonde dye and dark roots,
i spoke and connected,
pulled a flower from the bunches
sold cheaply at the desk
and gave it to her,
a startling explosion
as manager hit me with a piece of wood,
i ran
never said goodbye
but i know who
i wanted now
Adela Zamudio – Man Born
MAN BORN
Much work she spends
By correcting the awkwardness
Of her husband, and at home,
(Allow me to gawk).
As inept as fatuous,
Follow him being the head,
Because it man!
If some verses written,
In any such verses are,
That she only subscribes.
(Allow me to gawk).
If that one’s not a poet,
Why such an assumption
Because it man!
A superior woman
Do not vote in elections,
And vote the rascal worse.
(Allow me to gawk).
As long as you learn to sign
You can vote an idiot,
Because it man!
The folds and drink or play.
In a reversal of fortune:
She suffers, fight and pray.
(Allow me to gawk).
That she will call the “weak”
And he be called the “be strong”.
Because it man!
She must forgive
Having being unfaithful to her husband;
But he can avenge.
(Allow me to gawk).
In a similar case
You can even kill him,
Because it man!
Oh, mortal privileged
That perfect and complete
You enjoy certain popularity!
In any case, for this,
You enough
Born man.
English translation of the Bolivian poet Adela Zamudio 1854- 1928 she was a complete artist , poet, writer breaking convention often , and looking deeper into the soul of mankind she also used the pseudonym Soledad, Bolivian Womens Day is on October 11th the date of her birth
burning crooked roses
coyotes yip !
as i walk through baby cyclones
up the stairs to the sky
as she remained
on sweating rocking horse
deeply sea pearl glint in eye,
oh is there anything else other
than immortality,
reward and wisdom,
have i become the dog
that runs through muddy rivers
to wash the gasoline of brutality off,
i will never see an algae
covered stone coffin,
horse keeps rocking
travelling this
unremarkable earth machine,
stairs behind me
as are leaking babies
and crushed beercans,
no cloud castle
old vagrants song rings softly,
weeping in whitman’s embrace
i have left human shape
finger shadows reach
as frozen spider would,
my once and fevered love
rides on
first degree
some river my birth
some river my breath
some river my knowledge
some river i am condemned
some river my clock fails
some river the sun is ravenous
some river my crossing
some river my burden
some river my love
some river trust not regained
some river my being
some river to which i return
some river my body
some river my murder
some river my unfound
to tangled silence
Anaphora at dVersePoets
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