Am I an eagle
with aluminium wings
in the electric night
or the mad man
watching mosaics
melt into stained-glass puddles?
Look into my bloodshot eyes,
speak to me in that Spanish susurro
and tell me to fly,
tongue of lightning /violet horizon,
or I’ll be seeing colours in bubbles
dancing a marinera,
a manic stalactite-white grin
I’m not in control of wriggling
across my whiskered face.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
Am I an eagle
with aluminium wings
in the electric night
or the mad man
watching mosaics
melt into stained-glass puddles?
Look into my bloodshot eyes,
speak to me in that Spanish susurro
and tell me to fly,
tongue of lightning /violet horizon,
or I’ll be seeing colours in bubbles
dancing a marinera,
a manic stalactite-white grin
I’m not in control of wriggling
across my whiskered face.
Written: December 2017.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time inspired by a few photos a friend of mine took while in the Barranco (ravine) district of Lima, Peru. This area is known for its bohemian style and street art. Please note that 'susurro' is Spanish for 'whisper', while 'marinera' is a Peruvian coastal dance. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE; Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
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