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Oh ! Non, ils ne devraient jamais parler de Porto Rico
Borinquén, Porto Rico de façon aussi diabolique
Porto Rico nage dans la mer des Caraïbes
Avec d'autres îles comme Cuba, Haïti et la Jamaïque
Puerto Rico est un magnifique archipel des Caraïbes
Avec de hautes montagnes. Oh ! Oui, la belle Porto Rico
A un ciel bleu et blanc parfait, des forêts tropicales de bonheur
Des plages d'eau cristalline, et elle est l'une des meilleures
Porto Rico ne peut jamais être « une île flottante de déchets »
Elle est superbe avec beaucoup de potentiel. De nos jours
Certains clowns ou comédiens fous doivent avoir beaucoup de nerfs
Pour insulter une Boricua aussi douce avec un peuple plein d’amour
J’irai bientôt à Porto Rico à la recherche de ma belle Sainte
De mon Âme, de ma reine. Je deviendrai un artiste pour peindre
Le sourire de cette île paradisiaque. Borinquén chérie, mon amour
Javier Solís a raison. Tu es le pays des rêves, mon amour
Personne ne peut ternir ton image. Je viendrai te rendre visite bientôt
Avec de beaux rêves dans mon cœur et avec une cuillère en argent
Pour que je puisse savourer ta cuisine et siroter ton cocktail tropical
En plongeant très fond dans les yeux de ta fleur si **** et belle
Notre Porto Rico est une île mythologique pour les rêveurs
Notre Porto Rico est un archipel tropical pour les amoureux.

Copyright © Novembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.
Translation in French of ' Our Puerto Rico'.
¡Oh! No, nunca deberían hablar de Puerto Rico
Borinquén, Porto Rico de una manera tan malvada
Puerto Rico nada en el mar Caribe y el Océano Atlántico
Con otras bellas islas como Cuba, Haití y Jamaica
Puerto Rico es un hermoso archipiélago caribeño
Con altas montañas. ¡Oh! Sí, maravilloso Puerto Rico
Tiene un cielo azul y blanco perfecto, bosques tropicales
Playas de agua cristalina, y es una de las mejores
Puerto Rico nunca puede ser 'una isla flotante de basura'
Es hermosa con mucho potencial. En esta época
Algunos payasos o comediantes locos deben tener muchos nervios
Para insultar a una Boricua tan dulce con una población amistosa
Iré a Puerto Rico pronto a buscar a mi bella Santa
Mi Alma, mi Reina. Voy a convertirme en artista para pintar
La sonrisa de esta isla paradisíaca. Borinquén querida, mi amor
Javier Solís tiene razón. Eres la tierra de los sueños, mi amor
Nadie puede empañar tu imagen. Te visitaré pronto
Con lindos sueños en mi corazón y con una cuchara de plata
Para poder disfrutar de tu cocina y empaparme de tu cóctel tropical
Mientras me sumerjo en los ojos de mi deslumbrante y **** ángel
Nuestro Puerto Rico es una isla mitológica para soñadores
Nuestro Puerto Rico es un archipiélago tropical para enamorados.

PD Traducción de ‘ Our Puerto Rico’ en español.

Copyright © Noviembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de numerosos poemarios.
Puerto Rico is not '' a floating island of garbage'.
Anais Vionet Apr 21
My bf works in Geneva, Switzerland. I go to school in New Haven. We Facetime a lot - but it’s not ideal.

“I wanted to tell you, that it’s been nice.” I told him somberly.
“What do you mean?” He asked after a moment.

“Well,” I began, “You know how I like to go down to the harbor and watch the ocean?” “Yeah,” he answered.
“Well, I was down there this evening and the sun plunged into the sea and it got dark. I think we’re all going to die.”

“Anais, you’re on the east coast,” he reported. “That’s true,” I confirmed (New York’s on the east coast and it’s 60 miles away).

“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.” He explained. “ocean sunsets only happen on the west coast.”
“Really?’ I said, flabbergasted, “I never noticed that.”
“Yeah,” he reiterated.

“I have a confession,” I admitted, sighing.
“What’s that?” He enquired.
“I made it up, the sun and sea thing,” I admitted.
“For real?” He followed up. “Yeah,” I said. “Why?” he asked.

“Nothing happens, when you’re not here,” I disclosed, “It’s SO dull, I’m dull, I’m afraid of underwhelming you.”

“We’re going to die someday,” he assured me, consolingly.
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songs for this:
I Can’t Remember Love by Anna Hauss
So In Love by k.d. lang
It’s the End of the world as we know it by REM
The end of the world by Skeeter Davis
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Underwhelm : to fail to impress or excite someone.
girl diffused Nov 2023
The workman told you to bury a curled dark lock

Of your dead baby’s hair in the earth,

A quiet offering to a quieter god

You spent several months weeping to the sky

Your small hands curled into your white frock



Work was left unattended in your colorful house

No food on the stove,

No boiling salt fish, or softened dumplings in murky white water

The pungent smell of cured fish filling the quieter home

The home, austere and shrinking into the long street

Your helper comes to do all this

Your children understand in their small ways



You covered the lock of dark hair with fresh dark soil

Palm fronds wave in the wind

Salty sea air kisses your wet skin

Tears make tracks on your cheeks like a map pointing to

Nothingness, like a page of a book with words of moroseness



Once you had my mother, birthed her into a world of noise

The sure and strong hands of the matriarchal mother,

Your mother, who’d delivered more babies than she’d had her numerous children

Then you cooked, you toiled, swept the veranda with your broom

Left the buried lock of hair in the locked cabinet of your mind



Now, when I make the saltfish, I do it with stilted preparation

My hands form lumpy misshapen cornmeal dumplings

I fry the little ***** of dough for too long, they come out dry

I pop one into my mouth and chew

There, the fragrant smell of your perfume,

Sweet lull of your voice, your birdlike hands.
A/n: A rejected submission to a poetry magazine. Hopefully it finds its home here. Thank you for reading in advance everyone.
Nolan Willett Aug 2023
headed west
different from the rest
left behind
things on my mind
dreams to pursue
though I suppose so do you
Buddy T Feb 2023
i wish it was night a little longer
i want to moon to hold me a little more fonder
hop in my car and grab my keys
as we ride away from the east
running away from the rising sun
but our push back will soon be undone
a blazing fire soon forthcoming
hold me tight so i forget my ears are drumming
the world around us is set ablaze
stuck together in this sweltering maze
finally we have reached total apocalypse
but before we go, ******* a kiss
running away from... something?
Ceyhun Mahi Aug 2022
The Son of Rome, strong and clear in mind,
Once proud and mighty, a holder of power,
Has fallen to the depths of humankind,
Not asking of his downfall and best hour.
From day to day, his seed did change and grow
In others shapes, not meant for nature's rules,
Its soil has turned fruitless, it is barren now,
Turning from geniuses into fools.
Where is the crusader with waving sword,
Coming to rescue all his oppressed brothers?
The viking with its axe, without a lord,
Invoking fear within the heart of others?
    Although since birth a foe of my ideal,
    Disappointment and mourning's what I feel.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2021
Imagine the bird of time
the sun is on the fly
shining the quantum of time.

From the bottom
the Planck length in the east
flying round the clock to the west.

Half way through
it could be at the twilight
but it sings a swan song.
Nothing is a perfectly round stock
not even the sun’s clock.

Around the two fine points
in the circumference of a circle  
no length is a set fixed
minimal Planck length.
Always be an irrational gap
breeding anew pi decimals
never the same nor ever ends.
Always new, a little more,
an uncharted ****** mole!
nim Apr 2021
cigarette ashes
fly on the wind,
as i stare at my black coffee,
it gazes back at me.
black sobranie,
and i debate;
of all the people,
i find it hard to see
is there something
worth seeking.
just like dust,
i let them go
i never looked back
let them think i'm bore.
you may be
a world unseen,
yet i am so tired
no words flow well enough.
i'll just go lose myself
in paint and doubt
while i stare at my coffee,
and flit around.
as day came to end
last vestiges of sunlight
sank toward the west
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