"manuel" poems
TO PUT the art and talent of Mindanaoan fashion design into the spotlight, Kagay’anon fashion designers put their hands together to organize the 5th Mindanao Fashion Summit at the Limketkai Center Rotunda from August 4 to 6, every 4 p.m.
“Being a core event of the Higalaay festival, the opening salvo, the Mindanao Fashion Summit can really highlight fashion designers here in Cagayan de Oro and also in different points of Mindanao to let everyone see what they can do in the world of fashion design especially now that there are only so few opportunities for these designers to show off their works to the public. This is why we have the Mindanao fashion Summit because Kagay-anon designers believe that even if they join national fashion shows like the Philippine Fashion week, most of them still aren't getting the right encouragement as a fashion designer.” said Robbie Pamisa, the overall organizer of the event.
The Fashion Summit is a three-day event composed of seven sub-categories such as the Mindanaoan collection, the Menswear collection, and the Ororama orange collection for the first day, the Guest Designers’ collection, the Fashion Institute of the Philippines collection and the Loop Lifestyle Fashion Show for the second day, and the Holiday Grand collection for the third day which will serve as the culmination of the fashion event.
Mindanaoan Fashion designers from Cagayan de Oro as well as Davao, Butuan, Iligan, and Bukidnon have come to showcase their talents. Some of the fashion geniuses of the event include Alma Mae Roa, Angela Soriano, Ann Semblante, Benjie Manuel, Boogie Musni Rivera, Gil Macaibay III, John Mark Magellan’s, Joshua Guibone, Juniel Doring, Kiko Domo, Mark Christopher Yaranon, and Mavy Cooper de Leon.
One of the highlights of the event is the Oro Fashion Designers’ Guild and the Designers Assembly featuring a collection of clothes using Mindanao material such as the Mindanao silk. Sponsors such as Ororama and The Loop Towers will also be showcasing their products in the fashion event.
“Even student fashion designers from the Fashion Institute of the Philippines have been encouraged to participate so that they will be able to experience how a fashion show works. This is also a way for us to fulfill our mission to be another avenue for fashion designers to show what they have,” Paisa said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
—Flash Forward—
A day of reckoning.
A small boat crosses
the Hudson River,
no warning horn.
Destination New Jersey,
of all places.
A. Burr isn’t warned
that Hamilton will not
fire his pistol.
Destiny predetermined.
“Death doesn’t discriminate
Between the sinners and the saints,
It takes and it takes and it takes.
History obliterates.”
—Flashback—
General.
Colonel.
Aide-de-camp.
Immigrant.
“Don’t engage, strike by night.
Remain relentless ‘til their troops take flight.”
“We escort their men out of Yorktown.
They stagger home single file.
Tens of thousands of people flood the streets.”
“Took up a collection just to send him to the
mainland.
‘Get your education. Don’t forget from whence
you came.’”
—Stepfather of the Union—
Treasury secretary, author of the Federalist Papers,
lawyer, speechwriter, confidante, opponent of slavery,
member of the Constitutional Convention.
“History has its eyes on you.”
“I’ve seen injustice in the world and I’ve
corrected it.”
“The Federalist: Addressed to the People
of the State of New York.”
“Goes and proposes his own form
of government.”
—Family and Marriage—
The Schuyler Sisters – Eliza.
Maria and James Reynolds – adultery and bribery.
Philip Hamilton – successor son and victim.
Philip Schuyler – father-in-law.
“And if this child
Shares a fraction of your smile
Or a fragment of your mind, look out, world!”
“I know you’re a man of honor,
I’m so sorry to bother you at home.”
“I’m only nineteen but my mind is older,
Gonna be my own man, like my father
but bolder.”
“Grampa just lost his seat in the Senate.”
—Why, How, How long?—
Why not?, biography,
genius, rapid-fire rap,
hip-hop, historical vertigo,
Lin-Manuel Miranda at the White House,
a cast talented beyond measure,
the Great White Way,
2017-18 and forever….
“…13 percent of the population is foreign
born, which is near an all-time high;
that one day soon there will no longer
be majority and minority races, only a
vibrant mix of colors.”
‒Jeremy McCarter, from Chapter I of
Hamilton: The Revolution
*© Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016
With credit to the book:*
Hamilton: The Revolution
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
Did I need to prove the kind of girl I am?
As if a category would add to my inferior condition
Did I need to hide how I felt about being left behind?
As if showing emotion would have proven me weak
I had every intention of going on that camping trip
But you said I would slow down everybody
Come to think of it, you never seemed to mind
Manuel's obesity slowing you down
I guess the **** between my legs is more of an impediment
than the blubber belly of your male companion.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
The army had revolted and the Republic was at risk,
But we were just a small town- what had we to do with this?
My father, Manuel Robles, was a labor Union man.
Some called him a Communist; only now I understand.
The army had a list of men whose loyalty was suspect
And when the civil war broke out they came for them direct.
They took him, and some others, and lined them up against a wall.
It was then I heard the volley and I watched my Father fall.
They checked upon their handiwork, I cannot forget the face
Of the officer who used his pistol to give the coup de grace.
The piled the corpses on their truck and, laughing, drove away.
All were buried in a common grave to wait the Judgement day.
I stared in speechless horror at the blood soaked, thirsty ground
and at the pock marks in that wall caused by some misspent rounds.
There was no judge, no jury, no verdict, nor decree.
They killed a dozen unarmed men ; that was their victory
They slaughtered my dear padre without a second thought.
I would not go so easily; there are others, too, who fought.
Now Franco has my country and I’ve had to flee from Spain.
My heart is with my Father’s bones. I carry on his name.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
I started watching football when I was eight
At that moment I had everything to hate
The next day I went with the squad
I played with a poor morale
Than as the time passed by
People said Ronaldo in Madrid is *****
Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame
Messi got him chipped later in the game
In June they compared Andre Gomes with James
For real? Thats just lame
Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes"
They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard"
Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer
While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time
Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time"
Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past
Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
Manuel del Río, natural
de España, ha fallecido el sábado
11 de mayo, a consecuencia
de un accidente. Su cadáver
está tendido en D'Agostino
Funeral Home. Haskell. New Jersey.
Se dirá una misa cantada
a las 9,30 en St. Francis.
Es una historia que comienza
con sol y piedra, y que termina
sobre una mesa, en D'Agostino,
con flores y cirios eléctricos.
Es una historia que comienza
en una orilla del Atlántico.
Continúa en un camarote
de tercera, sobre las olas
-sobre las nubes- de las tierras
sumergidas ante Poseidón.
Halla en América su término
con una grúa y una clínica,
con una esquela y una misa
cantada, en la iglesia de St. Francis.
Al fin y al cabo, cualquier sitio
da lo mismo para morir:
el que se aroma de romero,
el tallado en piedra o en nieve,
el empapado de petróleo.
Da lo mismo que un cuerpo se haga
piedra, petróleo, nieve, aroma.
Lo doloroso no es morir
acá o allá...
Requiem æternam,
Manuel del Río. Sobre el mármol
en D'Agostino, pastan toros
de España, Manuel, y las flores
(funeral de segunda, caja
que huele a abetos del invierno)
cuarenta dólares. Y han puesto
unas flores artificiales
entre las otras que arrancaron
al jardín... Libera me domine
de morte æterna...
Cuando mueran
James o Jacob verán las flores
que pagaron Giulio o Manuel...
Ahora descienden a tus cumbres
garras de águila. Dies irae.
Lo doloroso no es morir
Dies illa acá o allá;
sino sin gloria...
Tus abuelos
fecundaron la tierra toda,
la empaparon de la aventura.
Cuando caía un español
se mutilaba el Universo.
Los velaban no en D'Agostino
Funeral Home, sino entre hogueras,
entre caballos y armas. Héroes
para siempre. Estatuas de rostro
borrado. Vestidos aún
sus colores de papagayo,
de poder y de fantasía.
Él no ha caído así. No ha muerto
por ninguna locura hermosa.
(Hace mucho que el español
muere de anónimo y cordura,
o en locuras desgarradoras
entre hermanos: cuando acuchilla
pellejos de vino derrama
sangre fraterna). Vino un día
porque su tierra es pobre. El Mundo,
Liberanos Domine, es patria.
Y ha muerto. No fundó ciudades.
No dio su nombre a un mar. No hizo
más que morir por diecisiete
dólares (él los pensaría
en pesetas). Requiem æternam.
Y en D'Agostino lo visitan
los polacos, los irlandeses,
los españoles, los que mueren
en el week-end.
Requiem æternam.
Definitivamente todo
ha terminado. Su cadáver
está tendido en D'Agostino
Funeral Home. Haskell. New Jersey.
Se dirá una misa cantada
por su alma.
Me he limitado
a reflejar aquí una esquela
de un periódico de New York.
Objetivamente. Sin vuelo
en el verso. Objetivamente.
Un español como millones
de españoles. No he dicho a nadie
que estuve a punto de llorar.
1.7k
One dreary September day
Emperor Manuel Komninos
felt his death was near.
The court astrologers -bribed, of course- went on babbling
about how many years he still had to live.
But while they were having their say,
he remebered an old religious custom
and ordered ecclesiastical vestments
to be brought from a monastery,
and he put them on, glad to assume
the modest image of a priest or monk.
Happy all those who believe,
and like Emperor Manuel end their lives
dressed modestly in their faith.
1.5k
Nagtapos ng abogasya sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas
Mula pagiging **** sa Capiz kumatawan
Hinirang na heneral nang sa Hapon makaalpas
Pinagtuunang pansin pagbangon ng bayan.
-12/20/2014
(Dumarao)
*Pinuno Namin sa Panahing Tanso Collection
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
What makes you so sure your sickness need not be heavily medicated?
You walk around, your body hanging like your favourite outfit that you never wear anymore,
stumped in a box
The street lights breathe like the cigarette that you smoke at the end of the night and regret immediately after,
the cigarette that tastes like glue,
The pads of your feet blink to the floor,
Your soft eyes watch the people and their smiles, they once represented jealousy but now sail past you like leaves of boredom from nowhere,
You chew on an energy bar as the purple plants, bike riders, suit case carriers and fire hydrants stroll by,
You make fists to fit eye sockets, but your hands stay by their sides
waiting for the courage to find the change that promises never to come,
You sit on the bench and wait for somebody who might chemically excite you
Your mouth clamps shut and your food rots inside of you molding your breath,
The dog walkers follow their excuses not to be lonely
and you crave a machine to make you feel better,
no human will do,
And the cats purr against tree legs and look at you as though you are stupid,
You sit around your friends wanting more intoxication
anything but this elasticated dribble of saliva they call ‘the gang’
Because another ‘gang’ is just another situation where you can feel alone and misunderstood again,
another metaphor for your life and incapability to feel comfortable,
You bathe in quiet awkwardness that only you feel
and cry when no one looks or when no one decides to see,
And you wallow in the self pity that sleeps in beer cans and wine glasses
searching at the bottom of them for someone who can relate to your loneliness,
And everyone thinks they’ve got the answers but you do too and you think the answers are no good either,
You call out on roof tops in the loudest voice your thoughts can muster
And the teachers who get paid to care have given up too,
So you sit like an old book being read over and over again melting to resemble an instruction manuel or something equally repetitious,
And you wait for the time to pass,
and the people too,
You wait to be interested by something,
anything that will comfort you,
But you seek solace in the smell of dustbins, petrol, sea salt, beer froth and your hands in the shower,
And hope that they’ll all
come together
and somehow
let you know
it’s going to be okay.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
<p><p> Avvio di settimana con un bellissimo matrimonio in Spagna suona come un'idea possente bene.non sei d'accordo ?Questa bellezza catturata da Jimena roquero Fotografia sicuramente iniziare la vostra settimana fuori sul più bello di piedini .E ' romantico e rustico e tutto intorno incantevole.e c'è ancora di più vi aspetta qui .<p>Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsHomeStylesCasual EleganceRustic <p> Dal Jimena roquero Photography.Ruth \u0026Javi <p><a href="http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=880" target="_blank"><img width="240" height="320" src="http://188.138.88.219/images_ld/td//t35/product_thumb/2/4165335353535_397008.jpg"></a></p> sapeva che tipo di matrimonio che volevano avere .Erano sicuri che vogliono che i loro ospiti di godere di una serata memorabile e un partito che non dimenticheranno mai .Dal momento che entrambi sono tecnici professionisti super affollato .hanno assunto la sorprendente squadra di Bodas de Cuento per progettare e coordinare il loro matrimonio .Quando Wendy da Bodas de Cuento mostrò loro il luogo che hanno trovato per loro erano in lacrime .che era proprio quello che avevano sognato : Monte de Cutamilla .un rustico di famiglia circondata da montagne .dove si può facilmente trovare cavalli e mucche al pascoloselvaggiamente !<p> Hanno celebrato una bella cerimonia all'aperto e hanno risparmiato alcuni limonate fresche alla fine di esso .Hanno consegnato i fan e cappelli per gli ospiti per combattere l' impostazione tavolo heat.The e tutto l'arredamento è stato scelto con grande cura e gusto .e per l'ora di danza .hanno dato anche loro donne ospiti alcuni flip- flop per riposare i piedi daltacchi <b>abiti da sposa on line</b> alti !Ottima idea !Hanno anche dato loro un cd con una compilation di musica con le canzoni preferite della coppia <p> Fotografia : Jimena roquero Fotografia | videografo : . Amarcord | Event Design : Bodas De Cuento | Pianificazione : Bodas De <a href="http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-c-1"><b>abiti da sposa on line</b></a> Cuento | Scarpe da sposa : Magrit Couture| Scarpe sposo : Andrea Chenier | Muta dello sposo : Dolce e Gabbana | Profumo : Verde Pimienta | Sposa Abito : Jose Manuel Peiro | Hair \u0026 Make- up Artist : Xiquena Peluqueros | Musica : Dosaune Audiovisuales | Wedding Venue : Monte De CutamillaJimena roquero Fotografia e Bodas de Cuento sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i <a href="http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-corti-c-49"><b>abiti da sposa corti</b></a> membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .JIMENA roquero FOTOGRAFIA vedi portfolio Bodas de Cuento The Wedding De ... vedi</p>
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Triste há de ser; curto e doce e terno.
Que seja breve dizendo tudo.
Que seja doce confeito de manhã eterna.
Que seja belo qual água de cachoeira.
Que a pureza o invada: morte indolor.
Da febre se dissipe como quem à tempestade vence.
****
Fonte: Cadernos de Sizenando, vol. II, 2016
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
You as a layman
May never experience this
And it is most likely
You won't
But
If you ever catch on fire
Remember the three rules I speak of now
1.stop
Don't panic, realize your situation, and that you can be okay though calm, concerted effort, don't run! Running only creates oxygen to fuel the flame
2.drop
Fall to the floor, even the very act of being on the floor smothers whatever part of you that is burning that hits the floor. And it is necessary to be on the floor to achieve the most important lesson being taught within my words
3.telephone
Now that you are on the floor, pull out your telephone. Strike a pose, and take a selfie. Because for gods sake you are on fire, and you know that it can go viral. And really, dying by burning to death is worth it if you are able to entertain someone in doing so. Instagram will go crazy over you
And I suppose step four would be after you have a picture you like, then roll to put the fire out. But most people never make it this far.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
A single seed
Watch and it shall grow
No measure to length
Or width to abide
But grow it must
And will forever
Not this to subside
One embarks
To grow to grow
With what before
Only known from once
Shown and grown
From dirt to dusk
We rise
And fall
Expand and collapse
But grow
Is in all the seeds to begin
Growth the only ingredient no
Destination
Manuel
Or infiltration
From small to large
Large in sight
For this we grow
To take flight within
Ones soul
Which growth
Sees to ignite
From nest to barrier
From mouth to tongue
From stars to planets
Far and wide we all must grow
Outward and inward
But inward it’s from
The center point
From which all to grow
Not outward to expand
We rise inward
Occasionally to fall
But inward its there
The growth we mustn’t forget to dare
Inside
Inside
From within
We see
The begin and the end
From inside
That is all of me
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
**Andy
(Rest in peace)
True Courage
Thomas Rex
Purvi Gadia
Konr
Víctor Manuel Serna
Liz And Lilacs
WM
Ember Evanescent
anxiety
Closed Story
Andrew Quikkes
Amber K
Steel
Peter Robert Hamilton
Karl Franssen aka Bryson Flegg
Creep that Loves You
Kiyuki
I miss you...
And of course
Gavin**
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
Communicate to me now or shut the **** up
Say the things that will throw away heaven
Spit in the faces of your Gods
******** in places that I probably should not
Holy ground; then and now. Time between.
Unclean clothing, I ******* stick
I’ve got to get back to where I was
One day too late two days to make it
I’m falling apart in my seat
Melting into a puddle of green
My, my, my Remington .308 Manuel
Sliding down so slowly, I’m sick. . .
Ginnie gimme sweetly a sleepy sweetie
Traditional quote; usual lines
Bespectacled eyes,
Scare across a wilderness of hollow lives
Let no pleasure or pastime
Distract me from my vengeance
I’m ******* coming for you
Limitless.
Although you think you know
I may say a few of my words a little slow
Are you scared about Friday night?
Blue moon in sky. . .
Mind in flight
Say goodbye!
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
(come on brain, think of things / come on brain, be so smart — lin manuel miranda)
with hollow bones i had been born,
so why their leaden flight?
for others have far heavier borne;
i must be feather-light
in branching paths i loved to wend,
their tangle stuck me fast.
now shorter streets have found their end;
i must be lightning-fast
i write these things to make life rhyme
but cannot see to see
and wonder, wonder, all the time
what must be wrong with me
and they say better late than not,
and better slow than still
while counting anxiously to naught
and asking when i will
i do not know! i do not know!
what little i do ken
is that i go when i can go
and do all that i can
and yet my life in shambles lies
i cannot see to see
with oceans in my tired eyes
what must be wrong with me
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 8:51 AM UTC
Thinking now, I miss the late night talks about nothing.
I miss the late night talks about something.
I miss staying on the phone all night playing kingdom hearts.
I miss singing and dancing over skype wanting to never part.
I miss the unsecure security.
I miss your laugh, and I miss your crazy stories.
But most of all,
I miss the simplicity we once had.
The unlikely friendship we shared,
Until we found out we both cared.
I believe everything happens for a reason,
But what if our time has run?
What if it's only just begun?
Is this meant to happen, is it just fate?
Or is it time we closed the gate.
I don't know what path is right.
I'm just so scared to mess up this life.
I wish there was a manuel, or I could see into the future,
Maybe then I could make the suture.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
My big sisters made every mistake in the book
A big book
I know
because it was like a manuel that I received at birth
Slid under our doorways
They gave out copies
They reprinted chapters
They drew out maps
They sketched out the details
We flipped through the pages
Turning each lesson
******* earing the good ones
Like the time my sisters got so mad they kicked in the door
Or the time my sister tried a creaky houses old pipes
Leaning over
"It won't flush"
Swoosh a wave of water
Or the lesson about heartbreak
Reminding my brother Joel and I
to look with our eyes closed
But hearts open
Because they said that's how you know the difference
And don't settle down to quickly
They whispered between hallways and bed sheets
Because marriage is forever
And people aren't gaurenteed
My sisters authored pages and pages
Roads leading to roads to new roads
And the book grew older
The book came out!
This time celebrating parenting
Remember to lock the front door
Because that toddler with the wild red hair will
try to
Houdini escape everytime
Or sometimes softer
Remember that this life is yours
And you are steered by your choices
Said the sister with the bright blue
Eyes
And midnight colored hair
And she said sometimes
You will have to trade in your ballet slippers
For bare feet
Just so you can truly have your feet on the ground
And listen said the other
Sometimes resolving and letting go
Is easier than holding onto tightly
As she shows us her bruises.
And be yourself Lael
And don't try to hard Joel
Because the boy with broken heart can't be fixed
And the girls with the wild sides can't be tamed
And make sure you both stand tall
But not looking down
Look straight ahead at the horizon
Because we've already done it like that
And the sun will always guide you back to blue skies.
And I if it doesn't they said
We sure as hell will.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
Señora, dicen que dónde,
mi madre dicen, dijeron,
el agua y el viento dicen
que vieron al guerrillero.
Puede ser un obispo,
puede y no puede,
puede ser sólo el viento
sobre la nieve:
sobre la nieve, sí,
madre, no mires,
que viene galopando
Manuel Rodríguez.
Ya viene el guerrillero
por el estero.
Saliendo de Melipilla,
corriendo por Talagante,
cruzando por San Fernando,
amaneciendo en Pomaire.
Pasando por Rancagua,
por San Rosendo,
por Cauquenes, por Chena,
por Nacimiento:
por Nacimiento, sí,
desde Chiñigüe,
por todas partes viene
Manuel Rodríguez.
Pásale este clavel,
Vamos con él.
Que se apaguen las guitarras,
que la patria está de duelo.
Nuestra tierra se oscurece.
Mataron al guerrillero.
En Til-Til lo mataron
los asesinos,
su espada está sangrando
sobre el camino:
sobre el camino, sí.
Quién lo diría,
él, que era nuestra sangre,
nuestra alegría.
La tierra está llorando.
Vamos callando.
934
Sí, yo he escrito estos Abrojos
tras largas penas y agravios,
ya con la risa en los labios,
ya con el llanto en los ojos.
Tu noble y leal corazón,
tu cariño, me alentaba
cuando entre los dos mediaba
la mesa de redacción.
Yo, haciendo versos, Manuel,
descocado, antimetódico,
en el margen de un periódico,
o en un trozo de papel.
Tú , aplaudiendo o censurando,
censurando o aplaudiendo
como crítico tremendo,
o como crítico blando.
Entonces, ambos a dos,
de mil ambiciones llenos,
con dos corazones buenos
y honrados, gracias a Dios,
hicimos dulces memorias,
trajimos gratos recuerdos,
y no nos hallamos lerdos
en ese asunto de glorias.
Y pensamos en ganarlas
paso a paso y poco a poco...
Y ya huyendo el tiempo loco
de nuestras amigas charlas,
nos confiamos los enojos,
las amarguras, los duelos,
los desengaños y anhelos...
y nacieron mis Abrojos.
Obra, sin luz ni donaire,
que al compañero constante
le dedica un fabricante
de castillos en el aire.
Obra sin luz, es verdad,
pues rebosa amarga pena;
y para toda alma buena
la pena es oscuridad.
Sin donaire, porque el chiste
no me buscó, ni yo a él;
ya tú bien sabes, Manuel,
que yo tengo el vino triste.Juntos hemos visto el mal
y en el mundano bullicio,
cómo para cada vicio,
se eleva un arco triunfal.
Vimos perlas en el lodo,
burla y baldón a destajo,
el delito por debajo
y la hipocresía en todo.
Bondad y hombría de bien,
como en el mar las espumas,
y palomas con las plumas
recortadas a cercén.
Mucho tigre carnicero,
bien enguantadas las uñas,
y muchísimas garduñas
con máscaras de cordero.
La poesía con anemia,
con tisis el ideal,
bajo la capa el puñal
y en la boca la blasfemia.
La envidia que desenrosca
su cuerpo y muerde con maña;
y en la tela de la araña
a cada paso la mosca...
¿Eres artista? Te afeo.
¿Vales algo? Te critico.
Te aborrezco si eres rico,
y si pobre, te apedreo.
Y de la honra haciendo el robo
e hiriendo cuanto se ve,
sale cierto lo de que
el hombre del hombre es lobo.No predico, no interrogo.
De un sermón ¡qué se diría!
Esto no es una homilía,
sino amargo desahogo.
Si hay versos de amores, son
las flores de un amor muerto
que brindo al cadáver yerto
de mi primera pasión.
Si entre esos íntimos versos
hay versos envenenados,
lean los hombres honrados
que son para los perversos.
Y tú, mi buen compañero,
toma el libro; que en verdad
de poeta y caballero,
con mis Abrojos no hiero
las manos de la amistad.
985
Emma Stone must have known she was a dead cert to take home the award for best actress — her gold Givenchy gown was calling out for accessorising with the gold statuette. Stone led the charge for shimmering metallic gowns at a ceremony that was underwhelming from a fashion perspective, bar a handful of stand-out stars.
Those included Nicole Kidman, Jessica Biel, Halle Berry, Charlize Theron and fashion’s latest It girl Janelle Monae, who translated fashion chops from her musical background into acting with spectacular results, courtesy of designer Elie Saab.
Fashion pushes a more casual agenda and elements of this are filtering onto the red carpet. Hair was more undone: loose waves for Kirsten Dunst, a half-up style from Felicity Jones and Alicia Vikander’s messy topknot. Berry’s wild curls deserved their own statuette.
A mini-trend emerged with actresses wearing jewelled headpieces, including Ruth Negga, Salma Hayek and Monae.
While things did get political in speeches at the event, embracing diversity in the arts, stars didn’t give in to the current feminist mood. There was a distinct lack of pantsuits, which had been increasingly common at recent awards. Meryl Streep almost went there, in a “drouser” ensemble of dress over trousers, but that was as close as it got.
The lone political nod was an abundance of blue ribbons, supporting the American Civil Liberties Union’s action against the Trump administration’s immigration policies. Best supporting actress nominee Ruth Negga pinned one to her red Valentino gown, Karlie Kloss to her white Stella McCartney, while Moonlightdirector Barry Jenkins and best original song nominee Lin-Manuel Miranda added them to their tux jackets.
“I think art is inherently political,” said Miranda.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
Negra pupila, abierta y fulgurante,
Ancha y tersa la frente pensadora,
Reposado el andar, dulce el semblante,
La mano diminuta y tembladora;
Todo extrañando el peso del turbante,
Del blanco jaique y de la guzla mora:
Así le conocí, cuando sentía
Amor y juventud el alma mía.
Era... ya lo sabéis, el inspirado,
El egregio cantor de los amores;
El que hablaba el idioma delicado
De las brisas, las fuentes y las flores.
Semejaba, en el siglo, un desterrado
De las rondas de antiguos trovadores,
Que en alta noche el mandolín tañía
Al pie de la callada celosía.
Él cantaba el más tierno de los seres,
¡Encarnación de la belleza humana!
Hablaba de ilusiones y placeres,
De una dicha inmortal y soberana;
Del amor que derrama en las mujeres
Más luz que el sol brillando en la mañana,
Y cuyo beso, en alas de su anhelo,
Basta a juntar la tierra con el cielo.
Después... su frente pálida, abatida,
Una sonrisa lúgubre en su boca;
Su voluntad heroica ya vencida,
Semejaba, en lo ñrme, abrupta roca
Gastada por las olas de la vida;
En el vaivén de la fortuna loca...
El alma llena de esplendor y fuego,
Y sus ojos sin luz... ¡ya estaba ciego!
Ya sentada a sus puertas la pobreza,
Conociendo del mundo los rigores,
Hirió su altiva frenta la tristeza;
Cantó libre sus íntimos dolores,
Y halló en premio a sus sueños de grandeza
Tardes nubladas y marchitas flores;
Horas lentas, amargas, intranquilas,
Y la noche en el alma y las pupilas.
¡Gladiador del espíritu! ¿a qué meta
Pretendes ir así? ¿No te imaginas
Que si mirara tu pupila inquieta,
Vieras el jaramago en las rüinas?
Ya ciñes la corona del poeta,
Ya conoces su peso y sus espinas,
Ya del rebelde mundo en el proscenio,
Como un errante sol, brilló tu genio.
Mirad... el genio cruza este desierto,
Entre penas y lágrimas cautivo...
En la tierra es un vivo que está muerto,
Y en la tumba es un muerto que está vivo.
Amar, soñar, creer, mirar abierto
Un templo más allá, luchar altivo,
Y consumirse al fuego que lo abrasa,
Tras un aplauso que resuena y pasa.
Tu patria sabe honrarte, enaltecerte,
Para ser inmortal tienes derecho;
Nadie en tu derredor culpa a la suerte,
Ni sollozos exhala de su pecho;
En las nupcias del genio con la muerte,
La Historia es un hogar, la tumba un lecho,
Y ambas fulguran con eterna llama
Hoy que engendran un hijo de la Fama.
885
By: Manuel Hutchinson and Glenn Currier
Politics on a Facebook page
Replied with such rage
I sat in shock
for we’d held her at baptism
kept her overnight tucked her in
like good godparents do
all the tender moments we knew
but now a pinch in my soul
my heart’s racing pace
felt like a flight from grace.
I didn’t expect the monster to rise.
The taste of bell flowers is so sweet,
Even the devil smiled at me.
He caught my soul asleep,
As he picked up the double edge sword.
I should have never turned my back that day,
I made a commit to walk on heaven’s grace.
But chains on my feet prevented me to walk towards faith.
I’m living with my eyes closed,
Is this what happens when you embrace the pain?!
Rolling along
Singing a song
it felt so good to be high in joy
not since I was a little boy
was the air so free
but then the email dripping with sarcasm
cut me deep with its slice of sad
like dad used to do when he was mad.
I thought I’d forgiven the cuts
but now I’m in their clutch
the cape of this demon covers me
I’m bound in anger without a key
I got the whole wide world, in his hands
I got the whole wide world, in his hands.
I got his tears weeping in my hands.
I finally understood
Vengeance doesn't make you a man.
Now I reaped what I sow,
Loved how he burned my soul.
He said is it to late to confess my sins?
"God let me be free! I'll never meet Lucifer again"
The truth is unfortunate,
Because only the creatures of my past life answered him.
sins of a little boy
clipping the wings of toys was the joy
watched angels descend
they never knew
I was the one who poured that bleach at her baptism.
this is only one monster under my bed.
All my life, I never chose to open my eyes
When I did, I saw the devil
As he came for his
Revenge.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 9:37 AM UTC
Diaz
Diaz was from Portugal, his first Bartholomew
In 1487, rounded Good Hope, bid adieu
For going on to India was for Da Gama's crew
King Manuel sent 13 ships with Diaz and Cabral
And April 22, 1500 claimed Brazil
Half the fleet, when on return, in Jones' locker laid
But the six remaining, spice-filled ships for the voyage paid
Da Gama
Da Gama, he was Portuguese
For Indian Ocean trade
He sailed four ships, if you please
With Indian guidance for aid
1497 is when Vasco hit the sea
And sailing 'round the Cape of Good Hope, quickly found that he
Would require some assistance from a local native guide
Together crossing Arab sea and in Calicut ending ride
But though Da Gama and the Indians didn't hit it off
He still returned to Lisbon toting spices and their cloth
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC