"salvador" poems
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Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
We found each other at the wrong time
From that moment
We knew exactly what we felt-- a fire ignites that we have to utterly resist
You are with her and I, with him
Who knew then?
That we will both have the same feelings that has been kept for so long
Fate paved a way
We were both in pain
We found ourselves lost
Alone..
The things that we planned for the rest of our lives vanished into thin air and became invisible
Then, we found each other..
Again..
We started something special
You took my pain away
You smiled and laughed with me
So innocent and sincere
For the longest time
We both know what we want
At last!
We can be more than what we had
More than friends
This time
We are both ready
But the odds are still against us
How unfortunate this is
We both have too much to fix
These too shall pass, we know
When? We don't know
And when it does?
Will we be together now?
We both know
We don't want to let each other go
We are both holding on
I won't let go
I won't let you go
I believe in possibilities
Know that I will think of you
I will pray and have faith
Everyday
Let's be strong
You made me feel special
What we have is one in a million
I cannot just throw it away
Everything you told me will be safe with me..
You are the one that I want to keep
Forever..
I think you are the best yet
You will always have me..
Come back and find me
You already found me. Twice.
You can always find your way back to me..
- Ella Salvador
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
When descends on the Atlantic
The gigantic
Storm-wind of the equinox,
Landward in his wrath he scourges
The toiling surges,
Laden with seaweed from the rocks:
From Bermuda’s reefs; from edges
Of sunken ledges,
In some far-off, bright Azore;
From Bahama, and the dashing,
Silver-flashing
Surges of San Salvador;
From the tumbling surf, that buries
The Orkneyan skerries,
Answering the hoarse Hebrides;
And from wrecks of ships, and drifting
Spars, uplifting
On the desolate, rainy seas;—
Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main;
Till in sheltered coves, and reaches
Of sandy beaches,
All have found repose again.
So when storms of wild emotion
Strike the ocean
Of the poet’s soul, erelong
From each cave and rocky fastness,
In its vastness,
Floats some fragment of a song:
From the far-off isles enchanted,
Heaven has planted
With the golden fruit of Truth;
From the flashing surf, whose vision
Gleams Elysian
In the tropic clime of Youth;
From the strong Will, and the Endeavor
That forever
Wrestle with the tides of Fate;
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered,
Tempest-shattered,
Floating waste and desolate;—
Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless heart;
Till at length in books recorded,
They, like hoarded
Household words, no more depart.
7.2k
It is ironic, Salvador, because
I am afraid of many things in the world and when I am with you I feel safe,
Yet your company is the one thing I am afraid of most.
I know that I love and need you more than you will ever love and need me and that
One day you will be free
With another woman and I will be
Left paying for my sins against God and
My rights against the state.
I thought that our love would have no limits;
You said that I am a Christian storm but
I know that you can brave this tempest and
Save me from myself.
I am a poet, Salvador, but
Whenever I sit down to try to write a poem about you,
Or even just how I feel about you,
I am unable to because
I am lost for words.
I can no longer express myself.
I remember the beach.
We would lie there for hours
And on its sand we would kiss not just with our lips but
With our eyes.
The water will miss our visits,
Its body seldom taken by another-
As opposed to being constantly engulfed by two artistic lovers.
I have received my seaside medicine
-Via touch of tongue
And word of hand-
But have come to the realisation that you have in fact
Poisoned me.
I shall never be cured now.
The smoke from silent guns has already risen but
I am severed from the call to a fight with myself;
A conflict to choose between God
and you,
Despite the fact that you are the same.
You distract me from every focus-
Even though we are miles apart;
Even though you have replaced my words with your art,
You have broken me, yet
You make me
Whole.
Where is your warmth now, Salvador?
I am alone by the sea trembling with the cold
That you swore I would never feel again.
The winter will devour me as a result of your failing to relight the fire that is supposed to
Ignite me.
You promised me life with a portrait machine
But in all honesty
What I really want to be
Promised with is your faith,
In me.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
A young girl is walking on a sinuous and rough trail.
Wounds and scratches have found its place in her body, so frail.
As she reached the end of the pathway, she began to feel decrepit and impuissant that she wanted to discreetly skreigh.
On a cloudy dark night, a boy appeared in the fog.
He said
Everthing will be okay..
Don't worry..
Just take my hand..
He took her to a place
that is very bright,
dazzling that it hurts
her heavy eyes.
They both sitted on an evergreen
well-groomed grass.
She noticed the beautiful scenery that appeared.
It calmed her mind,
her heart,
her whole being.
The sun shines,
the water by the river is crystal blue,
the breeze of the wind blows her hair.
She have seen the skies,
the birds and the flowers
surrounded by tall trees.
This place is filled with love, joy and happiness.
This is the place that she can choose to be with
or she can be in another world..
- Ella Salvador
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 5:18 AM UTC
Banana splits lickedy his spican-and-span throbbing
peninsula clock jar.
The scar from his far faux **** ignited his beating
hexagonal calendar.
Which is used to peruse the jujubees metallic books in the public
libation crazy train station.
His ecstatic adulation exemplifies why diamonds are
a girl gorilla's favorite soap.
His floating cubed boat is on a remote desert
impala growling at the turquoise toilet.
But his spoiled toys are annoyed about the choice between life or
demonstrative sponsored concerts by budweiser.
Woeful razor beaked birds marvel at absurd his Salvador
Daoist Dharma surreal cereal caramel karma flakes.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
The root
Of ambition
Is ambivalent
There's no “one cause”
No one causes
A man
To make life decisions
In a day
It takes
Much more
For
A man to be successful
And real
With his inner-self
Accepting
The cards dealt
With the stamina
To play through
Exercising his will
With the feel
Lingering in every pore
Unsure
Of obstacles ahead
Headstrong
Through barricades
Bearing the bruises
Trampling
Over your own
Feet
Defeat
Seen in battle
But the war’s on
And the war zone
Isn’t limited
To a few
Years
Like ages 19-22
Whose to do
Worse
Who has more
Money
CARS
Clothes
And hoes
And whose vision
Is so small
To tack them
with success
All in all
And attack those
Who lack the
Wills
To move forward
And ignorantly
Attach it
With a phenomena
Of
Your unknowing
Root of ambition
Can spread
Like weeds
And weeds
Can **** ambition
Or spread
Like seeds
How many men
Dive
Head first under the influence
Or rise above
High
From the same drug
Barack Obama
Michael Phelps
William Shakespeare
Bill Clinton
Lebron James
Pablo Picasso
The Beatles
Jay-Z
Bob Marley
Conan O’Brien
Dr Francis Crick. (Nobel Prize Winner)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Salvador Dali
Victor Hugo
Kareem Abdul-Jabar
Snoop Dogg
Dr. Dre
Stephen King
Just to name a few
Maybe
Just maybe
It has nothing to do
With success
Or you.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
My sunshine after a stormy day.
My rainbow after a rainy day.
My mirror.
My best friend.
On my darkest day you never left,
you see me through when there's nothing left.
In a brink of loneliness,
you sparkled me with
joy and happiness.
You create a brighter day
on my deepest despair,
never forgetting a perfect
smile to wear.
Oh how I love those curly hair!
Bouncing and dancing
up and down in midnight air!
I could not catch a rainbow or
bring you the moon,
but I promise to be your best friend forever 'till noon.
We will be up talking from dusk to dawn,
this friendship will last
forever we will own.
I will walk with you side by side,
hold your hand with all my might.
In vain I will not leave,
count on it I'm yours to keep.
My dear Anne Christine,
best friend of mine.
Two as one and one define.
There may be times of falling out,
but our friendship will never obliterate nor root out.
As our hairs turn to Grey and
we grow old,
together we will be stronger
eightfold.
And when the time comes that our balanced ride in the waves of life is steadied by His hands,
we will wrap our memories in our hearts and keep them until we meet again above the heaven's sands.
We will welcome each other once again with our arms wide open,
locking in a tight embrace,
and that's when we'll know..
our friendship will be eternal..
- Ella Salvador
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
You, saying love
You, shaman's road
You, a bird
You, a yellow sun
You, Emperor
You, lovely door
You, my Walt Whitman
You, Neal
You, Sal Paradise
You, Pancho Villa
You, La Revolución Mexicana
You, navajo
You, the border
You, the river
You, chicana
You, Mafia
You, redemption
You, poetry
You, Salvador Dalí
You, Picasso
You, stereo
You, love
You, ***
You, youth
You, America
You, América
You, español
You, english
You, country side
You, cat
You, fire
You, books
You, E. E. Cummings
You, Bukowski
You, Octavio Paz
You, Coca-Cola
You, Coke
You, India
You, Mississippi
You, jazz
You, Miles
You, Davis
You, water
You, rain
You, lagoon
You, chest
You, car
You, road
You, reading
You, lines
You, Paris
You, Baudelaire
You, Poe
You, japanese
You, katana
You, Mishima
You, gun
You, rifle
You, cam
You, can
You, can't
You, Durango
You, Arizona
You, desert
You, gonzo
You, mezcal
You, alcohol
You, drive
You, crush
You, alive
You, again
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Nascimento, vida e existência…
Nascemos de uma forma sublime que parecendo uma banalidade natural é segundo o meu ponto de vista um milagre em todos os sentidos. Parece que o ventre da mulher foi feito e eleito o local divino para mostrar ao mundo a beleza do nascimento, vida e existência, comprometida com todos aqueles que tiveram o privilégio de um dia nascerem.
Nascemos, vivemos e existimos num planeta que procura respostas que não acha para uma imortalidade pedida a preceito em orações, congressos, ou aglomerações de seres que procuram nesta vida um culto a Deus que parece estar para caprichos e devaneios de tantos seres humanos que existem por existir.
Nascimento é vida e ao mesmo tempo uma existência comprometida com o universo que é gratuito para todos aqueles que conseguem perceber a magnitude da abundância que nos é dada com o nascimento, vida e existência.
Nascemos nus sem nada para oferecer naquele preciso momento alegria a todos aqueles que parecem esperar um Messias salvador e apaziguador de corações por vezes divididos
e adulterados com vivências da sua própria vida.
- Que recompensa teremos nós depois de deixarmos de existir sob esta forma material que parece ser digna e ao mesmo tempo real?
-Será o nascimento o elo principal na vida, na existência e na morte?
- Será que Deus através da beleza e complexidade do nascimento quer mostrar ao homem através da sua existência a possibilidade de aspirar com a morte à ressurreição ou melhor a outra forma espiritual de continuar a existir?
- Será que não será mais fácil e rápida a morte do que o próprio nascimento?
Nascemos, vivemos e existimos num planeta terra maravilhoso regido com mestria por um sábio infinito e Criador que sempre com precisão consegue dar ao ser humano deleites que irão perdurar na nossa vida até ao dia que depois de nascer, viver e existir morremos para ressuscitar no Amor Sublime de Deus nosso Pai.
Victor Marques
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
My morning lover,
you are the one that
I'd love to wait by.
I will be thinking of you
until the sun sets on
a starry blue sky.
If the stars up in the
heavens are no more,
You are still the one that I adore.
I will hold your hand
and stay with you,
My love for you forever will be true.
Under the moonlight
with a kiss I seal,
Every word is pure,
veritable and real.
Have faith in me
from the very start,
And you and I will never be apart.
- Ella Salvador
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
As the wet wind hums its way through our two tower six-cylinder apartment complex. Birds fall from their naked winter wept branches, braced by stiff bones, mapped out in Alexandria, carrying notes from El Salvador. The corner market is closed, never opened. A hair salon stands in its place, it wrings out the "R's" from a Philadelphia warshing.
And like every night, hot air cakes on an extra layer of indecipherable red dots up the arms and around the neck, minute pustules of hypochondria that steal my finger tips from the keyboard. I scratch and tip them, looking under their fiery scarlet caps for, I-don't-know-what disease. Paul says It's that magic school bus melanoma, typhoid drip, it comes at you from a computer screen and eats at your nervous system until you've got the wambles.
Tuesday's used to be the worst, until I OWNED THAT **** I make a pronoun out of aluminum foil and wear it as a hat on a first date. Tinder is not bad for conceptual art projects. I carry it within me like an anodyne complex, out into the frozenness; into my mouth the air comes around my teeth, behind my uvula until winter freezes my voice and I am breathless.
I abandon my miniature house to enter the pyramidal pinetum to the North. Wild paradise shrubs gather with songless animal noises watching as I take naked photographs of my father to preserve his body from anything less than his great immortal end. He lives on black moss and water from a nearby pond,
he authors the face of Anthony Hopkins, thrown about, another casualty of fervid and blurry dreaming.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Those sleepless summer nights
Sweat pouring from every crack
In thinly layered sunburnt skins
It was all panties-on-the-floor
Blood-on-the-sheets
And *******
Living out highschool fantasies
Like the cool kids
Life before 22 was all a dream
Of midsummer swelter and
Salt water
In the mind of the dog
Chained up in the universe's yard
Tethered to the ether world
Racing rabbits through space
While I was turned into an ***
Staring at the mirror
And my expressionless face
*This must be how cancer feels
Growing increasingly smaller
In a world where cabinets
And aspirations grow increasingly taller
She met the devil
For coffee on diagnosis day
But the deal they made didn't take
Her hair fell out
And her body atrophied anyway
She found herself
Floating far far away
Her blood coagulating like
A broken thermometer
Of mercury*
Salvador Dali painted this fall
The house of salvatore
Minds gone to roost under warm eaves
Staring fireplaces
Hungry couches and singing windows
It's all ******* drooping like clocks
And derailing thoughts
The local biddies
Cluck their tongues
At the absurdity of infinity
And the girl in Ace Hardware
Buying shoepolish to hide her tan lines
Yawns, as her boyfriend feels her up
*Meanwhile I collapse
Like a house of cards with a flick of the wrist
Thinking about life's mathematical beauty*
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
I wish I were Frida Kahlo's vibrant Mexican flowers
Or Salvador Dali's dripping watch
Van Gogh's maleficent moon
Warhol's saturated polaroid
Klimt's ****** lips
Or Vermeer's cornflower blue and singular pearl
But I am yet to make a stroke in ones historical
aesthetical
eye
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
Llora palestina, llora
Llora gaza
Lloran las fronteras
Supuran sus llagas llenas de cantos de injusticia
Largos cantos de dolor que emanan de las entrañas
Llora Honduras, llora El Salvador, Llora Nicaragua
Tus hijos los más pequeños montados en bestias
Huyendo de otras bestias, rodeados de bestias
Hacia la bestia padre
Padre de todas las bestias (solo basta recordar para entender)
Llora México entre plomos y promesas
Llora el indio en la sierra
La mujer en costa chica
El campesino en la huasteca
México un plantío de drogas y de sangre
Donde los ricos se hacen más ricos
Y los pobres valen menos que las balas que los matan
Llora la Tierra, Onile, la Pachamama
Entre lenguajes hegemónicos y pueblos sublevados
Hace mucho que nadie la escucha
Solo los indios y los brujos con sus hechizos
Pero pronto volveremos a poner la frente al piso
Para oír de cerca lo que reclama.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
The heat of the tequila sunrise
On the seashore of Cape Creus
Melts flaccid pocket watches,
Soft as overripe cheese;
The dreamscape's permanence dissolves
Before distant amber cliffs;
On sweet, rotting flesh termites sup;
A time fly lands.
The monstrous fleshy mutation
Across the seascape draped -
Deformed, distorted,
Disfigured with decay;
Centipede shades lash alien flesh
And sluggish tongue oozes
From the snout of the surreal
Self-spectre of Salvador's craft;
Persistence of Memory.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 8:32 AM UTC
Salvador Dali
Rode a Harley-Davidson
All the way from Bali
To Abu Dhabi
With Charley the Cat
Riding pillion.
Said Charley to Dali
All weathered and gnarly
I get quite incensed
By children's lack of road sense.
When I get back to Britain
I think I'll start
A Road Safety Campaign.
Good idea
Said Dali
To Charley
Who replied
Thanks a million.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
I’m a perfect portrait of teenage angst
Black pants and an army jacket
Tired eyes atop a solemn expression
High school backdrop
Roaming the halls alone
I’m a perfect portrait of beat down,
Broken up and disappointed
I’m the mess after The Scream
What’s left after The Kiss
I am dreaming of A Sunday Afternoon
On the Island of La Grande Jette
While tracing my mind over the swirls
Of the Starry Night constellations
Over what it could mean
Inside
I am Salvador Dali
Outside
I’m a perfect portrait of all the things I never wanted to be
I am Mona Lisa’s misery
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Kuharap ingatanku tidak
Berjalan mundur perlahan
Dengan keteguhan
Lalu berdiam
Melebur
Hancur
Seperti
Jam
Jam
Di
Ran
Ting
Ranting
Lukisan Dali
Kuharap aku
Disalib
Melayang
Tanpa
Lihat
Duka
Mu
Hantu-hantu
Vermeer
Dalam
Ruang
Ter
Tutup
Menjelma
Meja
Menopang
Detik
Demi
Detik
Dali,
Mungkin begitu
Seru dunianya
Tanpa kau di dalam sana
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
I've returned from the cyclone
Not quite intact
These images are haunting me
Every time I close my eyes.
No patience for people
Their ways take me under
I erupt in fury far too often.
My arms are a Jackson Pollack
My face in the mirror a Salvador Dali
I'm trying the best I can.
The doctors throw cocktails of drugs
my way,
I don't remember who I am
or care to even try
Your either against me or on my side.
I've been hurt too many times
My eyes are likely to swim to the side
I'm dizzy
I'm dumped
My days are too long
My nights are too strong
You think you've got it rough
A little empathy, please
Think of what it's like
to be me.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
have i become so dependent
that i cling to the microfibers that form in your dryer
and stick on your sweater
because for six months
seven months ago
i tasted italy and salvador
and corn tortillas
and teeth
and missed ***** mexico
and for three weeks
about two months ago
i spun around the washing machine
until my fibers were stuck and someone detached me
and i lay there soppy
and i lay there wet
and i blame the machine
its sheer power and ability to wipe clean the stains of engine oil and uv blue you drank in the garage
and i have lost dependency
because of its lack of sustainability
i miss my baby
all my babies
every baby
and if you need me
ill be collecting the microfibers
that form in your dryer
and stick on your sweater
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
Someone said he loves you and you believed each word
Your first kiss made you dance and spin around the stars
You swore you would marry him
someday..
You have done almost everything
For the man
That had a change of heart
For the man
Who changed his mind..
Young girl at 23
You have so much to learn
You have so much love to give
Know that in life
You will still have greater things
You will still have greater dreams in mind
Continue walking
Open each doors
Let life surprise you
You will soon find out who are you supposed to be
For now
Take a deep breath
Count to 10
Feel the pain
It means you are living
Cry. Take it in.
Let your heart
So innocent be scarred
To be stronger than what you have been
It will be alright
This is life
Hold on tight
And learn from each mistakes
- Ella Salvador
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC
love.
The knife rests on the counter.
Her freshly chopped hair
Feels so estranged.
A healing process
That seems to cut more than give.
Black eyeliner fresh to her skin;
Only worn after –
Never before.
Light flicks to her ear.
Her father’s gift of an earring
Ripped away.
A long ribbed scar
Of the letter “A” behind her ear
From a singed lighter burn.
The color was grey,
But it burned scarlet in her heart.
Impressionist choke lines ran across her throat
From her unwanted suitor.
Biting her lips with pain,
She felt a ruby red rawness.
Salvador Dali’s black lipstick
Twisted open to bleed
memories into mirrors.
Impulsive strokes of darkness filled the glass
With a diminished, backwards word
About a diminished and backwards girl,
She finished titling someone else’s art.
The gritty glass gleamed—
evol.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Forget the school children
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Or the 1,000,000 dead in Vietnam;
60,000 dead in Iraq;
30,000 and rising in Afghanistan.
How many by our proxies
in El Salvador, Nicaragua,
Guatemala, Chile?
Forget the millions dead
in nameless civil wars
or of preventable
poverty and disease
in various hell-holes
around the globe.
The rest of the world
may be sorry,
but not shocked:
they have come to know
the smiling murderers
we have become.
20 dead of madness
in Connecticut
and the US wallows
in drivel, kitsch,
hollow words,
self-pity, and
media frenzy.
A little arrogance here?
Oh, we love our kids,
(just no one else's),
so let's put black ribbons
on our cars
and call that enough.
Again, the culture
of selfishness, greed,
shallowness
and patriotic stupidity
rears its
predictable head.
No country that murders
the world's children
with a shrug
should be surprised
when that violence
turns inward.
"I am Vishnu
Destroyer of worlds
My name is Death"
You can't have it
both ways.
"We must love one another
or die."
mce
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC