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~~
Then, if ever, is the red color grows fade
The petals of red roses drop
If the birds don't sing any songs
And even a butterfly doesn't
Play on a purple flower

If the mistake happens in the rain
You 'll not cry
You can't be afraid of thunder
They will cleanse you

And when I am gone
Forgive me, but the melody in the air
You will come, playing in the garden,
Dance with the lost grasshoppers

Any yellow day when red flamboyant will be bloomed
Will have to take off your colorful sunglasses
At the very noon will be floated on the Cuckoo's love song
Again and Again it will prove your arrival,

O' Spring

You'll be the very white sky after rain
Will bloom red hibiscus
On that gilded day  
Red flamboyant 'll be loved with yellow flamboyant

Patched up with melody and words
Will be made new Songs,
New Poetry,
With the yellow flowers tune

Then again,
You 'll not  sing a song of despair,
Not even a song of hiatus,
Will sing the Songs of Joy,
Stir in the way of dreams,
Mating

Back to again and again
I 'll come back to you
Both 'll make a love  
For the creation of a new life
~~
 Apr 2015 Kenn
Cecil Miller
Of all the ways you've laid waist
to the Fortressess of Love I ***** in the realm of my emotions...

Of all the brittle limbs you send back crumbling on which once grew life I sent to you like pawns before me in this dry territory where the dust disturbs the view of the silvry illuminations in the sky...

Of all these things I've said, and the things I've not said...

At least, they let me know that you know I'm alive.
I could not sleep, nor think.
So I wrote a poem.
 Apr 2015 Kenn
Cecil Miller
Mi' Padre' was stabbed in a bar fight.
The cantina is the deepest of wells.
Mi' Madre' put mi' ropa in la mochila.
La pandillas tiene mi' hermano - He fell.

Madre' sold her finest of silver
To buy maquillaje to color my face.
She said, "Better that you should have her"
To the man who had come from The United States.

Yo era una nina novia.
El era un hombre mayor.
I wanted to run away fast, go back home,
But nothing was there for me anymore.

I was but only sixteen.
I had never been touched before.
There I was in such a new land,
Our cothes crumpled on the floor.

The whole time I kept my eyes closed.
I longed for mi' familia and home.
He held me and slumbered when it was over.
My tears were hot and I felt so alone.
.
Yo era una nina novia.
El era un hombre mayor.
I wanted to run away fast, go back home,
But nothing was there for me anymore.

I was told to learn to speak English.
To abandon the language I knew.
I did not speak of my heritage,
It was better that I was kept from view.

I learned to cook like an American wife,
And soon I could speak like the rest.
It was difficult, but I learned how to fit in.
I even changed the way that I dressed.

Yo era una nina novia.
El era un hombre mayor.
I wanted to run away fast, go back home,
But nothing was there for me anymore.

These days, I spend keeping shop,
When the children are still at the school.
They are the heart of my life.
They are named Sally and Raul.

The nights are the hardest to get through.
I still dream of my other life,
Before I was given to my husband.
But I love him now, I am his wife.

But,
I remember when -

Yo era una nina novia.
El era un hombre mayor.
I wanted to run away fast, go back home,
But nothing was there for me anymore.
One of my most creative endeavors, Nina Novia is my first attempt at folk-tale poetry that is patially in Spanish. It took some effort because I am not exceptionally bi-lingual. You might read in the comments where I was inspired to explain her having to deny her heritage to fit into her new American life. At that time she is vulnurable, but it is a testimate to her strength that she endures. But in her regailment her Spanish becomes deminished, except in her recounting her past. That part was writen and added april 29th, when I read the comments and realized there was a gap in her story. I hope it translates well, and is well recieved. I hope it makes more sense. Now, I think it should be a ballad. I wrote and posted the original on April 27, 2015.
 Apr 2015 Kenn
Rapunzoll
My mind keeps pictures of you up on its walls
                            again
                         ­         and again
I find my thoughts drifting down that river of memory
orbiting around you, like forces of gravity drawn
to the idea of us (if there even is an us)

If I could then I’d lock you outside my brain, leave you out there to rot
in the abyss, where your words couldn't penetrate me
and your lips that work like anesthesia forbidden to numb me again

I won't do you the injustice of romanticizing your imperfections
You're no nebular, you're a black hole, a gaping flaw in creation
Your eyes that held millenniums of history, now hold me no future

You made me forget what it feels to have stability
To not walk out of a room and forget why I left
You make me want to shred the skin you touched
Like a reptile, to become reborn, purified from my past.

There never were any butterflies in your stomach, only parasites
but you fed them to me readily like a disease

So no, I won’t dedicate you another love poem
                 no I want (deserve) better
This isn't what love should be
I’ll write you a poem where the words convulse on the page
and you’ll forget to read it (you always do)
© copyright

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