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Maria Jul 14
No quiero vivir donde
My people aren’t elated
Pentru să vin acasă.

I am greeted with tears in their eyes
Își iau avânt să mă întâlnesc căt mai rapid
Estoy envuelto en los abrazos más grandes.

They insist to hold my bags for me,
Una mano en mi espalda y la otra en mi equipaje
Mă ghidează la parcare.

Niciodată întreb pentru o călătorie
Una experiencia impagable por el amor que me rodea.
I always get a pang of emotions even for others experiencing the same with their family.

Never enough time
Niciodată destul timp
Nunca suficiente tiempo.
I wrote my first poem in Romanian, English and Spanish (the three languages I know) because I wanted to show how the words may come to me more easily in one language rather than the other. I tried to change up the order I used each language per line. Will continue experimenting with this. They aren’t direct translations by any means (except the last stanza), and that’s why it is special to me and anyone who speaks any of these languages, you’ll get different pieces (that make up me).
Birdie Jun 2
I know by your face
At the arrivals gate
Your kisses on my neck
As soon as you came back
I know by how you’d rather
Lose money and time
Than me
That you love me
I know by the way you watch me
Without speaking
That you want to hear
What I am saying
I know without you telling
Your laugh, your arms are spelling
That you love me and though
You won’t say it out loud
I know
I know he does
Ram B Aug 2023
Why did I leave late?
Why is the traffic so bad?
How long do I have to wait?
This situation makes me mad.
When I stay calm
And just breathe
When I realized
Being frantic, sad, or mad
Would change nothing, indeed
Knowing that I have a choice
To go through this trip
Peaceful, calm, and composed
Experience change
Although I'm still late for the airport.
Ron Sparks Aug 2023
staring
at Departures,
waiting with futile hope
that my flight's not cancelled; let me
get home
VanillinVillain Jul 2023
Hear the voice of their god as they twitch
Somnolence and discomfort prevail
Silent bones in a crumpled display
Peaceful corpse of a deadly poison

See them locked in the pose of defeat
snoring nose- still’d eyes- silent voice
Thousands frozen in corpulent time
As they wait for their planes to arrive
7-22-23, experimenting with anapestic trimeter
M Feb 2023
it's the end of the world!
silence will rule my ears
for the taste of ambience
is not a taste i admire...

the airport bag scanner ate my earphones!
the best ive had in a while, might i add...
the airport bag scanner widowed one of my precious earbuds!
alas, i shall lay these kindred friends
in a foreign trash bin burial grave--

perhaps buy a new pair
as their reincarnation in some foreign elsewhere?
this happened a week ago upon our connection arrival at dubai airport... i write this as a tribute to my audiophilia as we head back to dubai on our return flight from prague

12/02/2023, 9:25pm utc+1
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2022
~
precious metal detector
of tourism,
as in a dream,
such device has the power
to make one nostalgic for places
either never visited
or nonexistent.

this strange museum exhibits
sometimes airplanes,
always mortality salience,
and the impossibly probable idea

that travel can change
your sense of time,
so you don't really mind
if things slip away,
or alter in some disenchanted way.

~
dark blue Jan 2022
mousy girl, sitting in the corner, of an american airlines’ lounge

staring out a window, watching it snow

waiting for a flight from frankfurt to dallas

so cute, so demure, how is a boy to resist you

long shiny hair, over sized sweats, black leggings, white keds

sitting crossed, over one leg, slightly bouncing nervously

occasionally catching my eye, then glancing away

are you flirting or just curious, i wish i knew

how do i approach you, what do i say

am i of interest or am i passe

do you know, you’re playing the part, of a little

do you need a daddy, someone to hold, protect you

make you feel special, loved, and cared for

cuddled, kept warm

kissed and touched, everywhere
january 9, 2022
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2022
~
Strange how
my feet won't touch
the ground.
Strange how
my bags are packed
with sadness.

Plight is
my fellow passenger
to Osaka sun,
or Artic chill,
or some volcanic
love nest.

Strange how
my jet-setting eyes,
they see paradise only
on satellite tv,
yet they see the once
beautiful people
and all their utter dismay,
as they pass through
the metal detectors.

So strange
that I can hear
their strife
their suffering
well above
the engine's roar.

~
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