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Por qué caminos del alba
Andas descubriendo el cielo
Ese, prometido a unos
Los que sufrimos, creemos
Y le pedimos a Dios
Ir a bruñir sus luceros

Porqué sendas, asombrada,
Ya vas encontrando el cielo,
Mientras aquí las banderas
Y pueblos, están de duelo.
Porque te fuiste, tan pronto
Precipitando el invierno
Cuando aun, lleno de flores,
Se desgranaba febrero

Yucas y conquistadores
Te irán formando cortejo;
Pizarro barbado y noble
-Bronce, plata, encaje, acero-
Con una ciudad de Torres
Entre sus brazos sin huesos.
Y una muchedumbre oscura
Que va detrás de Atahualpa
Te sigue cantando himnos
En lengua quechua y aymara

Ya estás, Gabriela, en la gloria,
Mitad de princesa incaica,
Mitad de reina española,
Como Isabel, la magnánima.

Ya sé que no has de escribir
A nadie mas en la tierra,
Que oficinas de correo
A la eternidad se veda

¡Pero es tan dulce que sepas
Gabriela, que toda América
Por ti está tan conmovida
Como tu patria chilena...!

El cielo junto al copihue
La orquídea venezolana
Se une a la victoria-regia
Del Brasil, y en la sabana
De Colombia, los gomeros
Detienen su savia trágica.

¡Toda la flora de América
Quiere mirarte la cara!

Asómate entre las nubes
Una tarde arrebolada;
Muéstranos tu frente ancha
De madre tan bien amada,
¡Déjanos poquito a poco,
Del todo no te nos vayas!

Aquí ha quedado tu verso,
Tu palabra estructurada
Con lo mejor del idioma
Y lo mejor de tu alma.
Pero nos falta tu rostro
Con la sonrisa cansada,
Que a todos nos descansaba
Cuando nos daba en los ojos.

Oye, Gabriela, las voces
Desde tu «bosque perfecto»
Damos la señal que diga
Que llega a ti nuestro acento,
Y repasa, tu que tanto
Sobre la tierra anduviste,
¡Reposa y se haga radiante
Su risa aquella, tan triste!

Descubre el cielo y descansa,
Pero, Gabriela ¡no olvides!
Gaby Comprés Jul 2017
my name is gabriela
but most days
i don’t fit in these eight letters
some days
my name is poetry
my name is flower
my name is wild curls
my name is i am so filled with joy
that if i were a cloud it would rain for years
and some days
my name is sadness
my name is hello, love, come find me because i am tired of looking for you
my name is ocean
my name is feelings i have no words for
my name is the songs that make me cry
my name is when do i get a turn
but most days
my name is gaby
my name is the sweetness of these four letters
my name is honey and cinnamon and coffee
my name is gabriela
Allan Pangilinan Oct 2018
Kailan kaya tititigil, hihinto, mawawala?
Ang mga Gabriela na ating nakikilala?
Isang ideya na kay hirap tapusin, kitilin, hawiin,
Nasa looban ay may markang nagdiin.

Nawa’y patuloy nga ating paglakas,
Nang sa susunod ay wala sa isip ang pagtakas,
Bagkus ay kapayapaan at kaliwanagan,
Ang pupuno nang higit sa kaisipan.

Kung malamig lamigin,
Kung mainit mainitan,
Basta sa susunod ay may kumot,
Pamaypay nang mahanganinan.

Magbabago rin pagkat mawawala ang mga Gabriela,
Paglahong walang pasabi ngunit may ganda,
Sa langit natin lahat ay natutuwa,
Nahanap na. Nahanap na.
Trevor Gates Apr 2013
Good evening

And welcome to tonight’s decadent performance

Curtains…

Out there
Some where
Is the one.

The one person that matters
The one person that will make everything different
I can see her now
But you think I’m seeing a specific person with particular physical features.

You’re wrong

I see a white light
A being floating above all else

She is a soul before the human
She is everything before I know what everything is

Her eyes caress me with shear benevolence
Her voice soothes the restless and weary
Her touch calms my frantic heart and all that ails me

Where is this fulfilling wonderment of a person?
Is she at the end of a life journey?
That only I need to take the first step?

Maybe a distant land coated in dunes of sand
Below the ocean of the sky.

Or

In the cozy city apartment
Reading the stories of poetic urban decay
And fantasy encounters.
The corridors of her minds’ catacombs
The labyrinth of her dreams and unspoken desires
Fleeting glimpses of rich suspension
Over vast beds of Baghdad silk.

Hazel ember eyes



Listen

Yes can you hear that?

In our silence, a lone tone can be heard; felt through us.

We are all partnered with an instrument.  
This instrument plays the lone pitch of
Mine would be a number of instruments

A soft bow of a cello

A light note off a piano

The soft, mellow strum of a nylon guitar

The tearful violin

The noble French horn

The dreamy orchestral harp

The rise of a heavenly choir  

The thump of a bass

Ave Maria

Sonata Allegro

Tearful adagio

Glistening swells of rippling arpeggios over transcendent phrases
Eternal crescendos scaling across plains of astral enchantments
Our absolution through forgiving sounds
Eclipsing tones that speak the whispers of angels
They are here
Trying to relieve us of daily anguish and clockwork regrets
But
You
Many of you
Ignore these simple phrases
Through dismal conversations
And
Uncultured prejudice
Manipulated through shallow ignorance
The music that is neglected begins to wilt
Diminish
In more ways than one.

Stop it…

It hurts them
The notes of life
Go away from the norm
Derive from what is socially accepted
Find that one musician
That one composer
That one singer
That no one listens to

No one

Just you

Make their music, your music.
Cater to that personal bond
Imagine the film of your life
Score to this wonderful
Solidarity

Please

This is for you

Not me.

Because I love you.

This is dedicated to:  Gustavo Santaolalla, Geinoh Yamashirogumi, Christopher Nolan, Scarlett Johansen, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Jon Gomm, The Elephant man, Bach, David Lynch,  Lisa Gerrard, Hanz Zimmer, Bob Marley, Trevor Jones, David Cronenberg, William Peter Blatty, Clint Mansell, Chef Ramsey, Vanessa Mae, Nosferatu, Sisters of Mercy, black Coffee, mouse pads, The Diving bell and the butterfly, The catcher and the Rhye, The Last of the Mohicans, Isabel Bayrakdarian, Rene Flemming, Sarah Brightman and Natalie Gray.

May you return if fate allows it to be.
Viendo cómo caían las gotas de lluvia en su ventana, Luis, invadido por la melancolía, estuvo a punto de llamar a Gabriela, que había aprendido a dormir con lágrimas, y contarle cuánto la extrañaba. Hacía ya varios meses que no había comunicación y, desde ese momento, ella no había vuelto a casa.
Hubo muchas discusiones, gritos y silencios eternos.

Luis era un hombre tanto de grandes aciertos como de grandes errores. Su camino fue áspero. Pasó por momentos de ira, ansiedad y problemas con el alcohol: no paraba de beber. Muchas veces salía y no volvía, pero jamás le mintió ni la engañó.

Luego de una fuerte pelea, fue a su joyería. Quería regalarle una cadena de oro a su esposa. Un gesto de paz, desde el lugar donde solía brillar lo que sus propias manos forjaban.
De repente, se escucharon disparos.
Entraron ladrones al local. El corazón le latía con fuerza. Se tiró al suelo y se metió bajo un escritorio. Fue entonces cuando la luz de la ventana iluminó una Biblia. Tenía un versículo subrayado:
"Mira que te mando que te esfuerces y seas valiente; no temas ni desmayes, porque Jehová tu Dios estará contigo en dondequiera que vayas" (Josué 1:9).
En ese instante, no tuvo miedo.

Uno de ellos lo encontró. Le apuntó con el arma, intentó disparar, el gatillo sonó. Pero la bala no salió. El ladrón simplemente huyó.
Ahí entendió que el Señor no había terminado su obra.

Una noche, lleno de angustia después de tantas discusiones, le dijo a Gabriela:

—Sé que fue mi culpa. Acepto mi error.
Amor, perdóname.
Dame una oportunidad.
De demostrarte que he cambiado.
El mismo no soy, porque algo pasó un buen día… fue que Dios llegó a mi vida y la cambió.

En ese momento, ella no respondió. No sabía todo lo que había pasado.
Y con mucho dolor, no lo perdonó.

Días más tarde, en la iglesia, la melodía de "Tú no permitas" sonaba de fondo.
Entonces, Gabriela lo vio. Era Luis. Llevaba el traje de su boda. Sus ojos, hechos de cristal.
Su alegría fue tanta al verlo allí, que corrió hacia él.
Aunque seguía enojada, nunca dejó de orar por su esposo.

Le dijo:
—Uno puede ser vencido; dos, en cambio, resisten mejor; pues no se rompe fácilmente una cuerda de tres cabos (Eclesiastés 4:12).

Jehová, mediante un sueño, le había mostrado que ese día, tarde o temprano, iba a llegar.
Y fue ahí, no con flores, sino con lágrimas, donde se volvieron a encontrar.
No perfectos, no sin heridas.
Pero esta vez, con Dios entre los dos.

Y esa tarde, Gabriela ya no vio al hombre que la lastimó…
Sino al hombre que, con Jesús, volvió a nacer.
Porque el que está en Cristo, nueva criatura es (2 Corintios 5:17).
Todo puede empezar de nuevo si Dios está en el centro.
Sleepy Sigh Dec 2010
Somewhere in a villa
In Barcelona,
There's a Spanish guitar
And a smile that glints in moonlight.

The music is flowing like
Gabriela's flamenco skirt
While she dances and flickers
And scorches the floor.

They're cooking something up
Next door, something full of
Pepper and smelling of spice.
Smoke rises into the sky,
A refugee of fire.

A little boy pads barefoot
By stucco walls and calls
Up for a taste of flame.
(Wishing all the same

That "Flame" was his name -
Or at least his color - like his brothers'.
They are hungry too,
Hungry to spark and burn and shine
And shame the still Silent.)

Somewhere near Barcelona,
A bull bellows and breaks
A rider,
For a while. But

The smoke still rises
(Refugee of fire.)
And climbs higher than clouds can dream,
And glides out and out past stars unseen.

Gabriela's folds still swing
To a speech spoken by stinging strings
(With a smile that gleams at the dark).
eh this one's ok
I'm happy with it, at least
Nigel Morgan  Feb 2013
The Fig
Nigel Morgan Feb 2013
09/09/10 13.26
Just eaten the last of your figs x
End
 
There is just so much to know about the fig.
Andre Gidé, D.H.Lawrence,
Gabriela Mistral
Poets all
Have tried
To decode
Its secret enclosed form.
 
Since nothing escapes
the smell becomes succulence and taste.
A blossom without beauty, yet a fruit of delights...

 
A year ago
When I brought autumn to your table
I tried to explain
The fig’s ****** nature . . .
and failed.
I was too shy
And mumbled something about
Its gynaecological aspect.
 
Now I know you better
And your hand has cupped
My testicles
Can you not
Appreciate the similarity?
The size and shape is
. . .  similar
 
It seems male
This secretive fruit
But when you come to know it better,
You’ll agree with Catullus,
It is female.
 
Oh fig, fruit of female mystery where everything happens  invisible flowering and fertilization,and fruiting in the inwardsness of your you that eye will never see till its finished and you’re over-ripe and you burst to give up your ghost.
 
Yesterday
(After we had eaten figs
From the blue bowl
Bathing in the golden light
Of your September garden)
I felt that ripe and secret cleft
Open to my ***** touch
And kiss and kiss
Kiss and kiss
 
*Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Poets have not known the colour of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor. I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow's bouquet until covering your feet.
JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
Kung ang bunga ng isang makata ay tula
humihingi ako ng paumanhin
sapagkat mapakla
at hindi matamis ang sa akin.

Gusto ko sanang saysayin
sa paraang patula
ang buhay mo at dalita
na tulad sa bulaklak
ay nalanta nang ikaw ay dahasin
ng mga puting dayuhan.

Ikaw ang Sisa na nabaliw
sa paghahanap ng iyong Crispin at Basilio,
Babaylan kang hinubaran ng dangal
sa harap ng madla,
subalit ikaw din ang Gabriela
na nag-armas at lumaban.

Inang Bayan ko
na sakbibi lagi ng lumbay
kailan mo kaya makakamtan
ang tunay na kalayaan
na kay tagal mo nang inaasam?

Wala kang maasahan
sa mga anak **** hangal
na parang birhing matimtiman
na laging nakaluhod
sa paanan ng dayuhan;
mga putang walang kahihiyaan
na ibenibenta lagi ang puri mo't dangal.
ZOO Nov 2016
whose that someone there on the corner
influencing me with her sign
does she expect me to leave her money.

sign says to me, love and remember
take care of my sweet things , for me,
I'm  on my way home.
I'm here, see me
my hurt and every hope.

She planted the sign inside me
as I drove by
The thought of her there still
and I was can'ting and I'm still
thinking I can't.
Hoping, instead, that the heaven rises open for her.

all her quotes were soon delivered by the passer byes
the ambulance driver had already gone, too.
All had left, but was me, laying down beside her
No God to be watching over -
We are now
the only ones watching
her story is sorta sad, tragic and funny.

the noon time sun pierced her there on the ground
Beside snow covered wheels were white and soundless
like photos that were a patch of dark blood was still mixing.

I over think on my worries, now, and know little else, because
She is friendless sitting still there in my memory;
Simply, I am to be no longer existing - the heavens, who do not care.
I do not guard my worried me, just kneel, I am liable
not have never read on his word, in my bible.

I am someone lesser, man now, for not believing
a wandering begging and I am blinding to pull off
all that I've gathered by my skin - inside this foxskin cloth,

that ******* the corner, so long she waited to get money from here to
travel to Baltimore, she had in her pocket her sister, Gabriela's calligraphy, her darned socks.

I think I will take a long Northern train to see tonight,
And pray with imagined gifts, quitting myself
and she hushed me. "I am a seed eternally."

she had beautiful eyelids and my nose knows
those pulsing streams are pillows that still gather
up on the down dust smatters from rain,
still the eyes are Writing
old pipers notes long ago accordion tunes.
dealing with life

— The End —