"marta" poems
MAI BAHV SUCHI UN BHAVO KI
JO BIKE SADDA HI BIN TOLE
TANHAI HU HAR US KHAT KI JO
JO PADHA GYA HAI BIN KHOLE
HAR AANSU KO HAR PATTHAR TAK
PAHUNCHANE KI LACHAR HUK
MAI SAHAJ ARTH UN SABDO KA
JO SUNE GYE HAI BIN BOLE
JO KABI NAHI BARSA KHUL KAR
HAR US BADA L KA PANI HU
LAV-KUSH KI TEER BINA GAYE
SITA KIA RAM KAHANI HU
MAI BHAV SUCHI UN BHAVO KI.
............
KI JINKE SAPNO KE TAJ MAHAL
BAN NE SE PAHLE TUT GAYE
JI HAATHO ME DO HAATH KABHI
AANE SE PAHLE CHUT GYE
DHARTI PAR JINKE KHONE AUR
PAANE KI AJAB KAHANI HAI
KISHMAT KI DEVI MAAN GYE
PAR PRANAY DEVETA RUTH GYE
MAI MAILI CHADAR WALE US
KABIRA KI AMRIT VANI HU
LAV-KUSH KI TEER BINA GAYE
SITA KKI RAM KAHANI HU
KUCH KAHTE HAI MAI SEEKHA HU
APNE JAKHMO KO KHUDSEE KAR
KUCH JAAN GYE MAI HASHTA HU
BHEETAR BHEETAR ANSU PEEKAR
KUCH KAHTE HAI MAI HU VIRODH SE
UPJI EK KHUDAAR VIJAY
KUCH KAHTE HAI MAI MARTA HU
KHUD ME JEEKAR KHUD ME MARKAR
LEKIN MAI HAR CHATURI KI
SOCHI SAMJHI NADANI HU
LAV-KUSH KI TEER BINA GAYE
SITA KI RAM KAHANI HU...
WRITTEN BY :::::: SHASHANK KUMAR DWIVEDI
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
Mai bhav suchi un bhavo ki
jo bike sada hi bin tole
Tanhai hu har us khat ki
jo padha gya h bin khole..
Har aanshu ko har patthar tak
pahuchane ki laachar huk
Mai sahaj arth un sabdo ka
jo sune gye h bin bole..
Jo kabhi nahi barsha khul kar
har uss badal ka paani hu
Lav-Kush ki teer bina gaye
Sita ki Ram kahani hu..
Ki jinke sapno ke Taj -Mahal
ban ne se pahle tut gaye
Jin haatho me do haath kabhi
aane se pahle chut gaye
Dharti par jinke khone aur
paane ki ajab kahani h
Kishmat ki devi maan gye
par pranay devta ruth gaye..
Mai maili chadar wale uss
Kabira ki amrit vaani hu
Lav-Kush ki teer bina gaye
Sita ki raam kahani hu..
Kuch kahte hai mai sikha hu
apne jakhmo ko khud see kar
Kuch jaan gaye mai hashta hu
bhitar bhitar aanshu peekar..
Kuch kahte hai mai virodh se
uppji ek khuddar vijay
Kuch kahte hai mai marta hu
khud me jeekar khud me markar..
Leekin mai har chaturai ki
sochi samjhi naadani hu
Lav-Kush ki teer bina gaye
Sita ki Ram kahani hu
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Poema Code Switching
By Aylin Soto-Aleman, Mercedes Caballero, Jesus Martinez, Marta Silva, Alex Alejandre
16.4.15
El final de una etapa
The end,
The beginning of a new journey
un camino
A un mundo extranjero
Un deseo, un sueño
A dream
Haciendo mi propio path
un camino
rostros nuevos , new failures
historias nuevas , new experiences
a sequel to my story, con hojas rotas
y mojadas
INMIGRACION
La memoria es un salto
entre continentes
crossing invisible borders
swimming in the rios
corriendo debajo del sol
La memoria es los abuelitos
ancestors cooking arroz y frijoles,
flan, driving through for hamburgers,
popcorn, sipping on horchata
Basilica
No todo lo que brilla es oro
not all rainbows and butterflies,
Clarita y sus cien años
Ruben y sus Tacos del Camino Real
El rancho
Midnight movies
Quiero a quien me quiera
It’s been a long day, without you my friend
Mexicanos al grito de guerra
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light
Tepechitlan, Jerecuaro, Guanajuato
Long Beach, Argentine, KCK,
Chihuahua,
A Distance Between Us
El puente, the bridge.
Three Little Pigs en casa, at home,
don't step out marranitos,
la llorona te va a llevar
Memory is a leap
between continents
Cruzando fronteras invisibles,
Nadando en los rivers
Running under the sun
Born in different places
Pero las mismas intenciones
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
The mind
when immersed in memories
of yesterday carried by
hopes of tomorrows
and thoughts that like stones
on the surface of a lake
skip from feeling to heart
tracing ripples of emotions
as from nature's beauty
to the smallness of self
is a universal totality
brushing wind over water
to wave onto shore
a life that lost on Earth
helps grow the next wave
that reaches beyond
into the horizon
where some go to sleep
while others wake
are born or take last breath
to be born again
matters not if the sun shines
or the moon reflects on its surface
glass only gives back
the reality of what is
not what one wants
the universal blanket
over and under
above and below
into time on end
not wavering not changing
to accommodate humanity
sustains eternity
what was and what will be
wishing to be more
is as a mere leaf that falls
over an oak seed on its bank
majestic in the passing
before and after us
is where we take part
of forever
Marta
06/01/2017
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 3:56 PM UTC
This poem comes from a dream.
Sun—as February ordains it
roseate—early
twisted inordinate—in gray blanket
Snow has sifted to the pockets, wrinkles
the cuff of his woolen cap
An old hand rubs stubbled cheek
Snow flickers and falls again
in a dazzle
As he groans and stirs—
sparrows sing
As he struggles to sit—
sparrows sing
As he exhales into the chill
he considers the lilies of the field
Their luminous curling petals rise
steam or hope?
or just white smoke
wandering from the tiny fire
He sits a while to listen
to sparrows bickering in the bushes
then bursting into song
They have their audience
Across in a court of broken glass
and toppled stones
a room— still partially intact
Kindling gathered
Marta melts snow for tea
peeling potatoes in her lap
Stops to blow on hands
Marta’s heart—decent, visceral
like her hair—bun, kerchief
like her words—few in the failing
like the wounds of her smile
And Mikhail—harnessed
to the sounds of service
Orderly rhythm in ruin
hush hush hush
of a broom stroking cobbles
Mikhail—his hands wrapped in rags
old warrior
now, restorer of places to live
Stops, removes his cap
squinting sunlight into the channels of his face
Then turns toward unsteady shuffling behind him
“You shouldn’t.”
Tears interrupt
reaching for the broom
“You shouldn’t do this for me.”
“No, no, Holy Father. It is little thing—
a little thing I do.”
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
The television screen illuminates
the mahogany walls of His Holiness’ office
so different and distant from Marta’s casa in Iguazu,
Argentina, her handwriting in Spanish,
pleading the Holy Father from cheap paper,
to return and attend to his people.
On the screen, he sees the Garganta del Diablo
exploding in what the headline calls
‘Biblical-style’ deluge.
But He knows that the devil’s throat
spills out a more subtle evil than flooding:
a secret hatred,
disjointed humanity,
greed and gluttony
and outpour of passion of futbol
rather than prayer.
My child, he writes,
these falls bless the earth--
only God causes the floodgates to open
and only together do we feel holy presence
in the river’s spray.
He licks his finger, turns over the page,
and decides he needs not write more, besides
Que Dios bendiga a tí y a Argentina.
As the television flashes scenes of his pueblo y futbol.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
Mum
Mummy
Ma
Mother
Marta
Hamster wheel
Engine
Round and round
Monday next week
Months go by
solid
Stable
Consistent
Calm
Loving
Round and round
Kind
Tuff
Just
Tidy
Plan
Make
Pack
Round and round
Bound by love
we keep going on this wheel
Round and round
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 6:02 AM UTC
My heart crashed
As I stood on the sidelines
You played
To an adoring crowd
Inside me fear
Tore away
As it has done before
I had seen her
Lock into my lover's eyes
Take him into promises
Of her paradise
Then she looked at me
As women do
To announce
Pending victory
Lost in that turmoil
I gazed at you
Handsome violinist
Young prince of music
Your violin courting
Throbbing hearts
Minds filled with desire
My eyes fluttered
You held them
I felt avenged
In found promises
Yours into mine
I stayed fixed
From song to song
You stroked from chords
Into my need
Surfaced from imagined doom
Of lost love
And unforgettable pain
Whole and lovely
Into the center
Of your visual embrace
You came
In that moment in time
When I needed lifting
From sinking into regret
Into memories of loss
Where you sent by Fate
That very second
Your song a wave
To lift me from the gulf
I was falling into
It matters not
The moment passed
As he came back
From where he denied
Ever going
To love me again
By Marta C Weeks
@MartaCWeeks.com
4/20/ 2015
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
TERE DIL ME RAHNE KA SHAUK THA HAMEE BETAHASHA ;
TERE SATH KII IS DIL KOO TALAB THI;
TERE LABH SE KUD KA NAAM SUNNE KA ZID THA…
TU ZINDAGI TOH PAHLE SEE THI MERI;
AUR SHYAD AB ZEENE KA KARAN BHI HOO *** …
CHAH KAR BHI TERE KARIB AANE SE DARTA HUU;
DIN RAAT TUJHE SOCH KAR BHI LABH *** LANE SEE DARTA HUU;
TIL TIL KAR TERE SATH KO MARTA HUU….
AUR KOI PUJHE TOH BAS, HAS KAR ITNA KAHTA HUU;
WO EK MUSAFIR THI JISKI MANJIL MAI NAA THA ;
WO EK CHAKOR THI JISKA CHAND MAI NAA THA;
WO EK DARIYA THI JISKA SAHIL MAI NAA THA…
EK BAR FIR SEE USKEE LIYE YEE DIL MACHAL RAHA HAI;
FIR SEE NAYE SAPNE DEKHNE KOO YEE DIL MAR RAHA HAI ;
KAISE SAMJHAUU IS NADAN PARINDEE KOO ;
KII TUU EK BAR FIR TUTNE KI OOR BADH RAHA HAI….
WOO KAHTE THE IS JHUTE ISK KI BATEE NA KIA KARO;
DIL TUMHARA HAMME CHOR KISI AUR KE LIYE BHI DHARKEGA ;
KUCH DIN ME AASHIKI KA BHUKAR BHI SAR SEE UTREGA ;
PAR AB KYA BATAE JANAB KOO ,
DEKHE UNHE TOH MANO EK ARSA SAA HOO GAYA;
PAR AAJ BHI WOO HAR EK PAL ENN SANSOO ME RAVA HAI;
AAJ BHI IS DIL ME BAS UNKI HI JAGAH HAI;
UNKI YAD ME AAJ BHI RAATE KATHI HAI HAMARI;
FARK BAS ITNA HAI HAMARI CHAHTE EK DUSRE SEE JUDAA HAI….
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 1:03 AM UTC
I'm here. These texts these sacred carnivorous words
this verbal membrane
(read carefully I summon you read twice!) :
curtain meninx electroshock therapy
blanket straitjacket
bed-sheet ***** placenta
I praise this osmotic verbal membrane
I give you I get undressed I curse myself
Ah! my repressed whorish pathos:
I give you lucidly
Any poetic art is written in ink
(I calmly assure in public)
in fact
in these mortal neurons
Darkness and dust
These texts these words I've picked from books and streets
Only this ultimate membrane
(precious like the *****
fragile like soap bubbles)
still separates me
from the psychic space where you've pushed me
as towards the springs of the Nile
from the psychic place whence I try - cautiously
painfully - to pull out:
my hands my paws my brain my heart
What is beyond? darkness and dust
What is left? a poetic art this darkness this dust
these cracking neurons
Marta Petreu
translated by Liviu Bleoca
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Jax,Lily,Flawless,Marta,Dr.Shweta,Shiv,Neeraj,Dg.
Emeka,Miss,Jules,Bridgett,Salim, Joceyn,memoona.
Sampreeta,daud,Stephanie,Grace,No name,Eloisa.
Hijenduanao,Kauthar,Damien,Joye,Marta,Narendra.
Jolene, Perry, Freebird,Surbhi,Godawan,Ikimi,tm,
Xaela,try,S Nirmal,Astrea,Erin,Mindless,Lace,HB.
AP,Timur,Kasidee,Caterra,the untold,Melancholy.
Melanie,mckenzie, clark,beebz,sherri,bryan,bakunawa.
khaliyah,brianna,Ay2brutus,Angel-like,Maxx,Lure ***
Mike, me zeal, Kim,Kim,Maeiby,Shanath,Marshall,xallan.
Weeping Willow,Mike Hauser,Serena,AnnMarie,DavidLewis.
JenniferJohnson, itgonnamakesense,Mike Essiq,Nancy.
Olivia,Paul,Mark,Phil,PoetressBhumi and Wilyam Pax.
Here some more love you all, I pray that you are blessed.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
A veces me figuro que estoy enamorado,
y es dulce, y es extraño,
aunque, visto por fuera, es estúpido, absurdo.
Las canciones de moda me parecen bonitas,
y me siento tan solo
que por las noches bebo más que de costumbre.
Me ha enamorado Adela, me ha enamorado Marta,
y, alternativamente, Susanita y Carmen,
y, alternativamente, soy feliz y lloro.
No soy muy inteligente, como se comprende,
pero me complace saberme uno de tantos
y en ser vulgarcillo hallo cierto descanso.
920
In fear loaded times
Will a mask
That blends with all
Does not claim sides
Speaks of nothing
Stands for no one
Keep one safe?
To walk in crowds
Or hide behind doors
Doing nothing
Offending no one
Make us loved?
And where to hide
When a voice roars
Or fist bomb drops
In a corner
School or mall?
Marta
04/25/2017
Sent from my iPad
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
The time had come, it was Sunday noon
My mind kept on telling me, this was way to soon
But there I was, there was no excuse
I had to accept, I couldn't refuse
When we arrived, they were already there
I was trembling inside, this I can swear
I met your Mum, she was so kind to me
But with the stare of your Dad, I was about to flee
Then I met the sisters, and there are three
Andrea is the oldest, she has a Mother's Degree
Marta came next, as tough as she looks
Then the nurse Flavia, with all her Books
Renato is the Brother, a King of the House
Little Angel Maria the daughter, Claudia the spouse
Alvaro is Andrea's husband and the jack of all trades
Their kids Martinha and Gui, both with A grades
You grab my hand, never left me alone
And then I met Nuno, always on the phone
He is Marta's husband and Barbara's father
Then I heard: "Come and sit." It was your brother
I smile at you, how could this be
They look so perfect, so perfect to me
It felt like home, I was happy and so glad
They were the Family, the Family I never had
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
Into the sky
Even ghosts
Once slaves
Rise
From graves
Of oppression
To see Barack
His eyes
Luminous
With humility
Head high
Steady voice
All witness
His assent
Over mountains
Of Whites, Blacks
Browns and Yellow
Multiplicity of life
In triumph
Barack takes
Bigotry's flames
Into dreams that lift
Humanity
Into stars, of equality
And God of all
Rejoices
A son has risen
by
Marta C. Weeks
January 20, 2009
martacweeks.com
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
I love her
I love her so much
Her long hair
Her cute skirt
I love her
I know she's only pixels
Only lines on a piece of paper
But I love her
She's so sweet
And selfless
and brave
I want to be like her
And that's why I love her
Even if she isn't real
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
Kyuu tumhe raat majboor nahi karti mere paas aane ko,
Ku har pal bhool jaati ** mujhe yaad karne ko,
Jara tum bhi is daur se gujar k dekho,
Jisme agar chahat hai to teri hai,
Mohabbat hai to tujhse hai,
Jaroorat hai to teri hai,
Khayal hai to sirf tera hai,
Ku tere sapne nahi batate mujhse milne ko,
Ku khamoshi nahi tadpati mere khyal lane ko,
Kabhi dil me mujhe vo jagah dekar dekho,
Jahan yaad hai to tumhati hai,
Sath hai to tumhara hai,
Doori hai agar tujhse to dar lagta hai,
Tere sath bas tere sath jine ko har pal ye dil marta hai.
I love u
May 11, 2019
May 11, 2019 at 7:49 AM UTC
Kamal ka phool kechad mein khilta hai
Par dekk tere damann mein kechad kitna hai
Pyar baatne se badta hai
Dharm ke naam phe tu kyu ladta hai
Janta hu koi naah hai masoom
Par akhir mein insan hi tho marta hai
Bhattka sa tu firta hai
Tutt jaane phe
Hasna kyu bhulta hai
Aye musaafir tujhe aage badna hai
Tu chalta re
Manzil ka pata nahi
Kar wahi jo lage dil ko sahi
Yaar aaise hai jo
Bhulane par bhi bhulte nahi
Bachpan ki yaade
Whai purani baate
Andheri raato mein hum ghum ** gaye sabhi
Kho diya humne apne aapko
Iss insano ki basti mein kahi
Abb kyu jalta hai tu
Naah raha ishq naah mehboob
Kya baacha hai karne ko mehsus
Dillagi aur bedardi ke beech hu masroof...
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 10:31 AM UTC
my girl is the raven, the seraph's wing
budding from an egg on the windowsill
heralding mysterious ways.
my girl is palm trees deep in hurricanes,
licked in the salt of the North Sea glowing
with the moonbeam, with time.
my girl is the taxi driver smiling with gold teeth
jewels far beyond the thieves, the cops
my girl is MARTA on time every single day
my girl is e v e r y subway on time my girl,
heh, my girl is even the unexpected text
from mom saying I love you, the one you fear
but need not, the wide open april morning the
cat balled up on your ribs, yawning for rays of sun
the mansion for homeless communists, a myth
in person, the magic beans the skeptic doesn't know
what to do with, my girl is here for me,
my girl is a key to many doors she is the key to
t h e door.
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 7:04 AM UTC
Ni es un dragón
ni es un juguete, Marta.
Es un regalo religioso,
el último regalo del Señor.
Para que no te pierdas demasiado
en el trajín de la casa;
para que no digas ya más,
primero es la obligación que la devoción.
Y para que no te distraigas en el templo
pensando en el horno, en la rueca
y en el esclavo perezoso.
470
The first of March,
The day where red and white entangle
In the tradition of Bulgaria
Into a token summoning good health,
And luck, and non-material wealth
To the body and the spirit of the wearer
Be well, my friends, and fellow feathers,
Around the world, from near and far,
May fortune bring you well
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 4:53 AM UTC
My favorite tree in our yard
is bare
And every time I look out
It’s bareness
Swallows me in feelings of loss
When first
Leaves turn colors like loved ones
last breath
Leaving arms that once held me
only memories
Of once arms on a body
Love-filled
Even when branches tossed by winds
like sticks
From a life once well spent
full again
Lush regalia crowds over each other
with memories
Of happy times return and memories
dunks deep
Into my gut, how it was
hate that,
For love reminds how painful loss
can be
When love’s arms go from barren
To lush
8/30/22
@ Changes by Marta Masis Delgado
(aka) Adint-Weeks
Aug 30, 2022
Aug 30, 2022 at 5:49 PM UTC
Have you seen
a life born
and someone die?
The beginning
and end of life.
Memories buzzing
as guilt buts in
like gossipy neighbors
and regret comes
as if it’s not enough
that reality is rude
and the loss is lost
in wishing away
a stain that stays
to remind us that all
wasn’t as we’d want
to make believe.
Yet, if wet trash
is how we feel
as we let tears flow
as we almost ***
laughing the bad away
and crying the good in
reality fills us
with the truth of how
love is.
Marta
6/28/2019
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
God, as I understand you
grant me the valor to see the truth
not what I fear,
want to see, or want it to be.
An eye for reality
and another for day dreaming
a mouth to speak my truth but not
push it on others.
A mind to remember my messy tracks,
mistakes and faults,
what I need to accept or change
but please
don't bother me too much because
it's my time
to kick back, breakout and do
my thing.
Compassion to see
that reality can be hard or healing
and good or rough times,
can build with mistakes esteem
despite the screams and frowns,
from others.
Let me go thru this day not counting
blessings nor messes
not taking everyone’s inventory
and standing up for myself and others
even when on my ****
Marta
3/7/2019
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 6:10 AM UTC
If I were to die now
would I be a melody
you bring to life
in tunes of forever vows
or would you take me
into your mind’s heart
till the end of your song
and will the image of us
live in visions of love
Marta
Revised 5/3/17
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC