POETRY ON MY BIRTHDAY

POESÍA DE ALMA MATER III: COLUMBA
POETRY IN ALMA MATER III: COLUMBA
POÉSIE D'ALMA MATER III: COLUMBA

COLUMBA

Inspired by the tree

whose shadow overcomes me,

I write a free verse filled with joy...

Inner emotion, not at all...

Indeed, the feast celebrates the land,

given nature delighted in peace.

Social gathering, social distancing.

Hiding in the bushes is the deer,

wandering afar, unstrapped step,

relaxed, lying, standing, brunette gaze.

One more, for four, I did my deed.

Limiting in the mood, I rejoice.

I miss the city, lonely in the field,

where no one wanders, except Columba.

Columba flying lengthy, queen of peace,
graceful pigeon sending a message of glory
satisfying the soul like no other human being
I find you amazing among the distant clouds.

Columba, return to your nest
and recover the message forgotten.
Celestial and blessed, come to me.

SOHO GIRL, SOHO WOMAN

Soho girl, Soho woman

I miss you in the distance

You are not from Little Italy

nor from Chinatown, nor from Nolita.

Your style is different, your fashion unique.

Simple in the summer wearing short jeans

all dressed up in autumn and winter

sophisticated in the spring.

Soho girl, young woman,

coquette is your nature

delighted in your ambiance,

charming, romantic is your heart.

VETERANS

The white men were bosses at command
on smoking planes in flames, returning,

days after reaching target,
many vessels crossing the ocean at large.

The veteran black male, root of courage, lies afar.
Leisure, none. Solitude, none. Dominance, all.
Mind control distracts vehicles passing by
hypnotic landscape blossoms the erased grove.

Unkown in tomb, the veteran lies,
under the great stone, solid rock,
his body is all frozen, root of courage,

infantry force, bearing nesting love.

The Asian veteran, under arms, was from Nippon,
the Hispanic veteran served in the isthmus,
they give example to those who never served before.

ELLE LIT MES POÈMES

Elle lit mes poèmes pour les petits enfants.

Elle a toujours un beau sourire à la fin.

C'est une très bonne idée qu'elle encore a.

C'est une merveilleuse et belle rose rouge

                                    ou quelque chose comme ça.

NO TENGO NADA QUE DECIR

No tengo nada que decir en lontananza

tan solo que me hacen falta tus besos.

Mientras miro el calendario

veo que cada día, hora, y minuto pasan

y la esperanza es un desierto inesperado

desapacible y único, con un oasis al centro.

La arena amarilla es como la de mi tierra
pero en cambio se desmorona con el viento

y se va llevando un lamento como un beso

en que nuestros labios se encuentran

con una abrazo enlazados nuestros cuerpos

añorando el momento vivido en el  tiempo.