"ecuador" poems
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die. Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.
Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them.
Here then is what I might call
My Reverse Bucket List
Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere
Barcelona, Spain
Venice, Italy
Oxford, England
Jerusalem, Israel
Luxor, Egypt
Varanasi, India
Hiroshima, Japan
Pompeii, Italy
Other locations
Galápagos islands, Ecuador
Great Barrier Reef, Australia
North Woolwich, London
Churches
St Paul's Cathedral, London
Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
Coventry Cathedral
Córdoba Cathedral, Spain
Blue Mosque, Istanbul
Other structures
Taj Mahal, Agra
Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland
Royal Festival Hall, London
London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time). Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.
Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)
Bayeux Tapestry
"Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England
"Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil
Events
Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife
St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)
Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997
Oberammergau passion play, 2010
Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry
Albania needs hellopoetry
Algeria needs hellopoetry
Andorra needs hellopoetry
Angola needs hellopoetry
Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry
Argentina needs hellopoetry
Armenia needs hellopoetry
Australia needs hellopoetry
Austria needs hellopoetry
Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry
The Bahamas needs hellopoetry
Bahrain needs hellopoetry
Bangladesh needs hellopoetry
Barbados needs hellopoetry
Belarus needs hellopoetry
Belgium needs hellopoetry
Belize needs hellopoetry
Benin needs hellopoetry
Bhutan needs hellopoetry
Bolivia needs hellopoetry
Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry
Botswana needs hellopoetry
Brazil needs hellopoetry
Brunei needs hellopoetry
Bulgaria needs hellopoetry
Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry
Burundi needs hellopoetry
Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry
Cambodia needs hellopoetry
Cameroon needs hellopoetry
Canada needs hellopoetry
Central African Republic needs hellopoetry
Chad needs hellopoetry
Chile needs hellopoetry
China needs hellopoetry
Colombia needs hellopoetry
Comoros needs hellopoetry
Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Costa Rica needs hellopoetry
Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry
Croatia needs hellopoetry
Cuba needs hellopoetry
Cyprus needs hellopoetry
Czech Republic needs hellopoetry
Denmark needs hellopoetry
Djibouti needs hellopoetry
Dominica needs hellopoetry
Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry
East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry
Ecuador needs hellopoetry
Egypt needs hellopoetry
El Salvador needs hellopoetry
Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry
Eritrea needs hellopoetry
Estonia needs hellopoetry
Eswatini needs hellopoetry
Ethiopia needs hellopoetry
Fiji needs hellopoetry
Finland needs hellopoetry
France needs hellopoetry
Gabon needs hellopoetry
The Gambia needs hellopoetry
Georgia needs hellopoetry
Germany needs hellopoetry
Ghana needs hellopoetry
Greece needs hellopoetry
Grenada needs hellopoetry
Guatemala needs hellopoetry
Guinea needs hellopoetry
Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry
Guyana needs hellopoetry
Haiti needs hellopoetry
Honduras needs hellopoetry
Hungary needs hellopoetry
Iceland needs hellopoetry
India needs hellopoetry
Indonesia needs hellopoetry
Iran needs hellopoetry
Iraq needs hellopoetry
Ireland needs hellopoetry
Israel needs hellopoetry
Italy needs hellopoetry
Jamaica needs hellopoetry
Japan needs hellopoetry
Jordan needs hellopoetry
Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry
Kenya needs hellopoetry
Kiribati needs hellopoetry
Korea, North needs hellopoetry
Korea, South needs hellopoetry
Kosovo needs hellopoetry
Kuwait needs hellopoetry
Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry
Laos needs hellopoetry
Latvia needs hellopoetry
Lebanon needs hellopoetry
Lesotho needs hellopoetry
Liberia needs hellopoetry
Libya needs hellopoetry
Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry
Lithuania needs hellopoetry
Luxembourg needs hellopoetry
Madagascar needs hellopoetry
Malawi needs hellopoetry
Malaysia needs hellopoetry
Maldives needs hellopoetry
Mali needs hellopoetry
Malta needs hellopoetry
Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry
Mauritania needs hellopoetry
Mauritius needs hellopoetry
Mexico needs hellopoetry
Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry
Moldova needs hellopoetry
Monaco needs hellopoetry
Mongolia needs hellopoetry
Montenegro needs hellopoetry
Morocco needs hellopoetry
Mozambique needs hellopoetry
Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry
Namibia needs hellopoetry
Nauru needs hellopoetry
Nepal needs hellopoetry
Netherlands needs hellopoetry
New Zealand needs hellopoetry
Nicaragua needs hellopoetry
Niger needs hellopoetry
Nigeria needs hellopoetry
North Macedonia needs hellopoetry
Norway needs hellopoetry
Oman needs hellopoetry
Pakistan needs hellopoetry
Palau needs hellopoetry
Panama needs hellopoetry
Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry
Paraguay needs hellopoetry
Peru needs hellopoetry
Philippines needs hellopoetry
Poland needs hellopoetry
Portugal needs hellopoetry
Qatar needs hellopoetry
Romania needs hellopoetry
Russia needs hellopoetry
Rwanda needs hellopoetry
Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry
Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry
Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry
Samoa needs hellopoetry
San Marino needs hellopoetry
Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry
Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry
Senegal needs hellopoetry
Serbia needs hellopoetry
Seychelles needs hellopoetry
Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry
Singapore needs hellopoetry
Slovakia needs hellopoetry
Slovenia needs hellopoetry
Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry
Somalia needs hellopoetry
South Africa needs hellopoetry
Spain needs hellopoetry
Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry
Sudan needs hellopoetry
Sudan, South needs hellopoetry
Suriname needs hellopoetry
Sweden needs hellopoetry
Switzerland needs hellopoetry
Syria needs hellopoetry
Taiwan needs hellopoetry
Tajikistan needs hellopoetry
Tanzania needs hellopoetry
Thailand needs hellopoetry
Togo needs hellopoetry
Tonga needs hellopoetry
Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry
Tunisia needs hellopoetry
Turkey needs hellopoetry
Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry
Tuvalu needs hellopoetry
Uganda needs hellopoetry
Ukraine needs hellopoetry
United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry
United Kingdom needs hellopoetry
United States needs hellopoetry
Uruguay needs hellopoetry
Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry
Vanuatu needs hellopoetry
Vatican City needs hellopoetry
Venezuela needs hellopoetry
Vietnam needs hellopoetry
Yemen needs hellopoetry
Zambia needs hellopoetry
Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
Sweet Earth, each molecule of me has come from you.
Sesame seed, broken into amino acids and calcium,
became my tiny bones; bananas, potassium,
the cells of my brain.
If we could trace each atom back, we'd find
Kansas, Iowa, Ecuador, Spain.
And further still, through unimaginable millennia,
these same atoms --the very same-- were flung from a supernova,
only to recombine, here, on Earth.
"Of star-stuff, are we made." Carl Sagan said.
And then (when I'm dead)
the same in reverse:
the atoms' slow dispersal:
pulled in by roots, washed by rivers, melted in magma,
blown, finally, to smithereens by the exploding sun....
Star-stuff, once again, become.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
I walked the ridge
solo,
downward
into the squall,
battling hail
with ice-brick hands,
the rain pummeled
me below the alpine line
all the way to my nylon abode.
I wish I were still there,
it was joy.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
I am like a lone wolf who hastens across the tundra of Northern Hemispheres, with stealth.
Our temperature has risen and the Chinook boldly reveals her austere formation across the vast expanse of alpine variation.
I understand that your customs may be nomadic, as they roam across the treeless plains of baron socialisation.
But will they lead you beyond the West coast of Ecuador?
Therefore, always remember that layers of permanently frozen subsoils are designed for terrestrial corridors of arctic sojourns.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
Before she got on the plane
She wondered what the Andes would be like
High in the mountains.
And she worried
That her silver-spoon belly wouldn't handle
Whatever it is they eat there.
And she worried
That the kids would cut her pack and take
Whatever it was she was carrying.
And she worried
That the hot Amazon air would scorch her lungs
Whatever the temperature is in the rainforest.
But she didn't expect
That Avocado ice cream
Would be the best kind there is.
And she didn't expect
The shy village girls
To play with her long braided hair
And she didn't expect
That the sweet, warm jungle air
Would turn her city into a castle-
Princesses don't belong in towers.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
Vultures breathe like dragons,
old chalky smoke dissipating into the two story windows.
They silently stalk the curvature of the walls
each step freeing grimy steam,
the constant chugging of a train.
Can’t keep their scarves under control
weaving like salmon up stream,
their stiletto heels making no sound
washed out by typing and keyboard sighs.
Apotheosis (Latin): to become god,
each word in these shelves claim emperor status,
fiction novels start their own scrapbooks
encyclopaedias reach the 5th floor
committing literary suicide.
Don’t keep books open
the words will float away.
Letters will do anything to escape their pages.
History on hierarchy
exploiting the 19th century microfilm
making a hierarchy in the history section,
jamming the 20 cent printers with advertisements.
Riots silently blossom,
hidden in broken globes
from Ecuador to Kenya.
They are uprising
burning the library down.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Sigh no more,
Put it all in a drawer,
Don’t let life be a bore,
Go out and explore,
Cast your line from ashore,
Do the things you adore,
Remember it like it was pre-war,
Like you ran out the backdoor,
Didn’t stop screaming till the encore,
Waited and watched the downpour,
While kids called you ********
And you listened to folklore,
Praised the big uproar,
Traveled to ecuador,
Chose to ignore
Listened to the troubadour,
Forgot to abhor,
Gazed at the eyesore,
Praised the antiwar,
Dreamed evermore.
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 5:01 PM UTC
(i am my only captor)
i've missed possibility
and the 3.15 to ecuador
won't quit its wreckage
nor its descent, a mist,
wistful through glass
i'd rather shatter
in a fit of impulse
in a fit of anything
in the fit of a blue bottle in your hand
or mine (either way i'd feel concussive)
and the fit of a moldavite splinter
in the palm of the kneeling woman
accepting your absinthe-stilled rage
so her little ones' heels wouldn't
and every time you walk through my door
i'm tempted to say welcome home,
but the way you hit the pillow at night
itches my fingers to report abuse
and none is meted but to you,
so i write my greatest love-letter
upon your thoracic vertebrae
and whisper security through
your cell window pajamas,
and wait 'til hours before
first light to do it all again
when you wake.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Amparo
¡qué sola estás en tu casa
vestida de blanco!
(Ecuador entre el jazmín
y el nardo).
Oyes los maravillosos
surtidores de tu patio,
y el débil trino amarillo
del canario.
Por la tarde ves temblar
los cipreses con los pájaros,
mientras bordas lentamente
letras sobre el cañamazo.
Amparo,
¡qué sola estás en tu casa,
vestida de blanco!
Amparo,
¡y qué difícil decirte:
yo te amo!
2k
Tears rush down my cheeks
My nose runs
I desperately scrounge for Kleenex
You stand and stare awkwardly
Unapologetic for your cruelty
You're safe for now; I'm still crying
But once this flood stops
And I figure out exactly how much is your fault
You'll die
I still have ten seconds of bawling
You have ten seconds to run
Run to Ecuador and become a drug dealer
**** off the Yakuza in Kyoto
Double cross a gang of Trinidadians
Become an alcoholic gold miner
All of these are less consequential than what I plan to do.
Any place is safer than in front of me, so you'd best be fleeing.
Ten seconds ************
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Last night in Ecuador with the last stray dog. Last few bottles of pilsener lasting only however long my drunkenness lasts.
Cuz it's the drunken bliss, not ignorance, that makes the night last
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
She was my non sequitur;
Like that hottie
From the south of Ecuador,
So nice yet so ******
But this one was my interrobang
Questionable excitement,
To her laughter my ears lent
Cautious echoes that sang,
Of the skies sunny and blue
Where the beaches were
Anything but mild
And the babes
They were so wild,
Yet the endless raves
Seemed so few.
As she was my turbulence
Distraction under calm seas,
****** cadence
With a purr
Like a swarm of bees,
No other will equate to her,
Why I met her; and never will again
I'll never know for sure, but then
Aren't those the ones we yearn the most for‽
APAD13 012 - © okpoet
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
¿Como se llama?
Creo que es "Ecuador"
Porque usted es
Muy calor
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC
I extolled them as they went about their
Menial tasks in suits of silk;
Sunday bests amidst the concrete, the earth,
The broken shards of
Bamboo splintered skin, hiding interiors
And further, the broken mirrors of
The broken memories of the
Broken histories upon the
Broken backs become names wrought ancient.
Though further from fractured, a family calls,
Beholden to the absolute intent, but one wish –
Eternity amongst the bountiful brethren left behind
Atop tea-brimmed Mountains and a
One malevolent, revered benevolent,
Mao.
One more saga prerequisite this newer dynasty red –
Witness the
Wives huddled plowshares,
The daughter scribbled arithmetic
And sons assumed thrones to legacy.
I scrutinize soiled – smoke amid pear peelings,
The dirtied – unscathed and archaic,
So very fatigued – just one more nail,
For his eternity, with scratch and
Sliver of blood, a sanctity upon chin
Beyond cradled hammer,
Hand hugging thumb,
Thumb beyond nail, iron or the
Heart impaled homesick;
But I and hand asserting tie, freshly pressed,
Almost gleaming with an embezzled prestige –
Born unto Arcadia, a puzzle near complete
Continued to run, with only second’s pause to admire,
So very far from the fields of, “father,” or first blink,
While Sunday’s best weep, work and wither.
This man with joint autographed, “end,” and
Soon to be mound, history wrought dust,
A chipped Henan ceramic
And hours in attempt to breach;
Behold the back of Chen.
The title of this piece was inspired by observing constructions workers wearing suits we'd typically wear for an interview. That being said, my venture in China is near an end - years in the making. What's next? Ecuador? Japan? Morocco? Montana? Either way, I could never thank China enough for all that'd become naked before I and my pilgrimage christened, "world."
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
In the past five years, you haven’t
stepped foot into a hospital. Unlike your best friend,
whose father had cancer, and unlike your grandmother,
who slipped and fell and broke her hip and
you were vacationing in Ecuador when all of this was happening,
unable to escape from the tropical rainforests to visit
the sick and dying.
Your friends tell you that you’re lucky,
that they’ve been to hospitals twelve times since their birth,
but at this point, anything would be more exciting than
coming home and falling asleep. Even your favorite TV show
can’t keep you awake anymore, and instead of being in surgery
or giving birth,
you curve your spine into a C shape while trying to finish homework
that will never truly be done.
But if you really cared about any of this, maybe you
would drive to the hospital, take a stroll down the maternity ward,
though suddenly you’d remember
that you don’t know how to drive
and maybe you’ll never get out of this place,
maybe this is all there will ever be.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
Not quite white
Not quite spanish
Hungrier than both
Mad as a hatter
Revolve around the periphery
Of an institutional reality
Never wanted in
Just want to be the loudest
Soldier in my name
Myopic like a cruise missle
I will exist
I will resist
My front door was a portal to guayaquil, ecuador
And every morning
I would travel back to the states
On a yellow school bus
Singing songs
Watching the white kids play
Silent like a penitent altar boy
Realizing all at once
That i was not the same
I am not the same as you
Though my eyes are green
And my skin pale
You know nothing of my heart
Or the battles i've fought
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
You might think it's a social commentary
but to me
it's just a bit of poetry.
If I rant and rave about saving the whales or
some jungle in Ecuador,
they're just words and not for
dissemination,
just for you to read and it's all in my
fertile
imagination.
I write as I feel,I
don't kneel at the feet of
Shelley or Keats,
if you want that instead of my kind of writing,
the right kind of,bright kind of,tight kind of,
then go right in and read.the
difference is in the breeding,the reading is all of the same,
I won't change my style nor my name just to be,
a tick on your checklist for your friends to see.
This is not commentating
this is my heart remonstrating with the soul
that's inside me.
this is my poetry
take it or leave it.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
En el ártico mar, bajo la grave,
fría techumbre del borrado cielo,
rota la proa, yace antigua nave,
prisionera entre témpanos de hielo.
A do vayan inquietas las miradas
en esa soledad do el hielo impera,
tan solo ven llanuras desoladas,
rocas de hielo... hielo donde quiera.
Entre las sombras de la noche bruma,
Del horizonte en el confín distante;
turbio aparece el sol, fosca la luna,
y en el cielo se ven solo un instante.
De la llanura en la extensión inerte
jamás de vida palpitó un aliento,
y no flota en la calma de esa muerte,
sobre ese horror, ni voz ni movimiento.
Antes de que sus flancos destrozados
fueran allá donde la nave mora,
de los rugientes mares dilatados
todas las playas conoció su prora.
De las hijas del viento en compañía
la vio del ecuador el cielo urgente,
y cruzó con gallarda bizarría
los mares todos, desde Ocaso a Oriente.
Vió la boca del Ganges; el distante
Cabo de la Esperanza; surcó el seno
del Mar de las Antillas resonante,
y su bandera recorrió el Tirreno.
Era su nombre PORVENIR; su vida
fue el libre y ancho mar; y yace ahora
por témpanos de hielo detenida,
e inmóvil yace su volante prora.
Los años pasan. Desde el turbio Oriente
la mira un sol de luz amortiguada,
y una luna sin brillo... y lentamente
la nave se deshace abandonada.
Ya derribó los mástiles el noto;
la quilla, entre los hielos, yace endida;
se hunde el puente... el timón está roto,
y cayó al mar el ancla desprendida.
¡Arriba, el cielo tenebroso y frío
y el desierto en redor, mudo y sombrío!
599
The end dear friend is just the entry and he pointed, but he never meant me, it was the old man sat inside me that the message was intended for.
I sat and wondered about the door and what was it the entry for and could it be he meant me after all?
Then the timepiece changed into a watchtower and it changed back on the hour, every hour
what tricks these eyes can play
what puzzles and to blind.
In the end I wouldn't mind a new beginning
somewhere with a decent climate
and
slightly South of the equator
where I could do a baked
potato
on the rocks.
but don't worry
they'll twin you with a town up
in the Pyrenees
which
you'll find out
will be full up with
the Chinese who'll
be
making origami
chewing gum from
Sorghum and
reciting verses from a book
by ...tse Tung
The end is just a fixture
another game we play
away.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
So in another life
We have a daughter
Looks like her
Writes like me
Europa Report
Ocean water
Ecuador
3733
We.
Feb 25, 2023
Feb 25, 2023 at 2:15 PM UTC
A man packs his bags, opens the door that was once his and leaves.
Behind him, his daughters and her broken wife.
This was the end of a long war of broken hearts and thieves.
The man went to a new woman, who was once his nightlife.
She wants her children to be safe, but vengeance grew in her heart.
He, the leaver, wants to be forgiven, but pride is much stronger than his desires.
First the papers, then the unpaid bills and child support, everything is falling apart.
Refusing to share the blame, all his lies backfire.
He can no longer see his daughters, he no longer knows how to love, bad choices escalating.
The daughters leave him, the mother marries a good guy, he marries the witch of the night.
He is texting and calling no replies from his blood, he can no longer feel, he is just deteriorating.
God, he is falling, “Raul, you all right?”
Raul? He wonders, why didn’t she call me dad.
“I just wanted to tell you, that mom said that you have to stop treating me like a messenger.”
He looks perplexed at her daughter, when did she grow? Who is the lad?
“Let’s go, dad,” She says to the lad next to her. They hop on the plane leaving Ecuador, with no sadness or pity to him whatsoever.
Leaving the man behind as he left them once, with his mouth that once said the word the ruined his life.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC