"unbraid" poems - Hello Poetry

Mayan Poetry Translations The Receiving of the Flower excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let us sing overflowing with joy as we observe the Receiving of the Flower. The lovely maidens beam; their hearts leap in their ******* Why? Because they will soon yield their virginity to the men they love! ### The Deflowering excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Remove your clothes; let down your hair; become as naked as the day you were born— virgins! ### Prelude to ********** excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Lay out your most beautiful clothes, maidens! The day of happiness has arrived! Grab your combs, detangle your hair, adorn your earlobes with gaudy pendants. Dress in white as becomes maidens ... Then go, give your lovers the happiness of your laughter! And all the village will rejoice with you, for the day of happiness has arrived! ### The Flower-Strewn Pool excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch You have arrived at last in the woods where no one can see what you do at the flower-strewn pool ... Remove your clothes, unbraid your hair, become as you were when you first arrived here, virgins, maidens! These are my modern English translations of ancient Mayan love poems. Native Americans were creating poems and songs in pre-Columbian days; Mayan and Aztec literature may date back to the first millennium BCE. Unfortunately the Spanish conquerors of South America destroyed all but four of the thousands of pre-Columbian books that probably once existed (according to translator Michael Coe). Mayan hieroglyphs remain far from fully understood and dating what remains is difficult. However, the best poetry is timeless and I believe we can know our Mayan brothers and sisters a little better through their poems.—Michael R. Burch These are my modern English translations of ancient Mayan love poems. Native Americans were creating poems and songs in pre-Columbian days; Mayan and Aztec literature may date back to the first millennium BCE. Unfortunately the Spanish conquerors of South America destroyed all but four of the thousands of pre-Columbian books that probably once existed (according to translator Michael Coe). Mayan hieroglyphs remain far from fully understood and dating what remains is difficult. However, the best poetry is timeless and I believe we can know our Mayan brothers and sisters a little better through their poems.—Michael R. Burch Keywords/Tags: ancient, Mayan, poetry, translation, translations, love, virginity, *** marriage, joy, happiness, flower, flowers, deflowering, clothes, hair, ****** nakedness

0

May 5, 2020

May 5, 2020 at 4:54 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

Mayan Poetry Translations

Mayan Poetry Translations The Receiving of the Flower excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let us sing overflowing with joy as we observe the Receiving of the Flower. The lovely maidens beam; their hearts leap in their ******* Why? Because they will soon yield their virginity to the men they love! ### The Deflowering excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Remove your clothes; let down your hair; become as naked as the day you were born— virgins! ### Prelude to ********** excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Lay out your most beautiful clothes, maidens! The day of happiness has arrived! Grab your combs, detangle your hair, adorn your earlobes with gaudy pendants. Dress in white as becomes maidens ... Then go, give your lovers the happiness of your laughter! And all the village will rejoice with you, for the day of happiness has arrived! ### The Flower-Strewn Pool excerpt from a Mayan love poem loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch You have arrived at last in the woods where no one can see what you do at the flower-strewn pool ... Remove your clothes, unbraid your hair, become as you were when you first arrived here, virgins, maidens! These are my modern English translations of ancient Mayan love poems. Native Americans were creating poems and songs in pre-Columbian days; Mayan and Aztec literature may date back to the first millennium BCE. Unfortunately the Spanish conquerors of South America destroyed all but four of the thousands of pre-Columbian books that probably once existed (according to translator Michael Coe). Mayan hieroglyphs remain far from fully understood and dating what remains is difficult. However, the best poetry is timeless and I believe we can know our Mayan brothers and sisters a little better through their poems.—Michael R. Burch These are my modern English translations of ancient Mayan love poems. Native Americans were creating poems and songs in pre-Columbian days; Mayan and Aztec literature may date back to the first millennium BCE. Unfortunately the Spanish conquerors of South America destroyed all but four of the thousands of pre-Columbian books that probably once existed (according to translator Michael Coe). Mayan hieroglyphs remain far from fully understood and dating what remains is difficult. However, the best poetry is timeless and I believe we can know our Mayan brothers and sisters a little better through their poems.—Michael R. Burch Keywords/Tags: ancient, Mayan, poetry, translation, translations, love, virginity, *** marriage, joy, happiness, flower, flowers, deflowering, clothes, hair, ****** nakedness

46

I wonder how many moons shall pass before you breathe in the fragrance of Jasmine, as you unbraid my tresses

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Feb 4, 2015

Feb 4, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC

venus62

yearnings

I wonder how many moons shall pass before you breathe in the fragrance of Jasmine, as you unbraid my tresses

5

it is 2:23 am the fan is set on high, despite the fact that the weather outside is -20° fans are good for these sorts of things white noise drowning out the silence the thoughts the beer brings thoughts of fools in love in coffee shops and cynics in tears in basement rooms and once brave men in coffins the dog chews on a rawhide bone and I unbraid my hair untangling each knot with trembling fingers I undress slowly removing each piece of clothing like a memory I put on that shirt I bought for you I crawl into bed smearing plum lips and black eyes on an off-white pillowcase and I think of once great loves of cynics I think of coffins I think of you in light blue

0

Jan 23, 2014

Jan 23, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC

plain-jane-glory

Keeping Up Appearances For The Dog

it is 2:23 am the fan is set on high, despite the fact that the weather outside is -20° fans are good for these sorts of things white noise drowning out the silence the thoughts the beer brings thoughts of fools in love in coffee shops and cynics in tears in basement rooms and once brave men in coffins the dog chews on a rawhide bone and I unbraid my hair untangling each knot with trembling fingers I undress slowly removing each piece of clothing like a memory I put on that shirt I bought for you I crawl into bed smearing plum lips and black eyes on an off-white pillowcase and I think of once great loves of cynics I think of coffins I think of you in light blue

20

You grab my hand, pull me out of the madness. Take me to that place, where You’re the only face, I can see. Careful fingers unbraid cherry curls, draping a tightly-held cardigan, on the anorak’s open arms. And when I look away, guide my eyes so they gaze into the aquamarine of Yours. Planting soft kisses on my barren cheek, You water me. Talking with a voice far sweeter-sounding than a lyre. Words draping over me like velvet, until I find some of my own. No longer dictated by a script. Gently peeling back the layers of myself, you finally find my soul. Once blue, now Golden-hued, thanks to You.

0

Dec 28, 2024

Dec 28, 2024 at 3:01 PM UTC

mel0dic_b4bble

Vulnerable

You grab my hand, pull me out of the madness. Take me to that place, where You’re the only face, I can see. Careful fingers unbraid cherry curls, draping a tightly-held cardigan, on the anorak’s open arms. And when I look away, guide my eyes so they gaze into the aquamarine of Yours. Planting soft kisses on my barren cheek, You water me. Talking with a voice far sweeter-sounding than a lyre. Words draping over me like velvet, until I find some of my own. No longer dictated by a script. Gently peeling back the layers of myself, you finally find my soul. Once blue, now Golden-hued, thanks to You.

14

I heard I could tie all my veins and arteries together and they would circle the earth so I thought if we laced ours together we could reach the moon and watch stars blaze like one hundred billion cigarettes in the dark skinny dip through purple orange green supernova explosions curl up in a crater and watch the world spin like a cumbersome ballerina then we’d dive back down from the moon to the mothership and unbraid our veins, separating mine from yours. But without those vascular knots we’d start drifting apart just like Pangaea. We’d both begin forgetting how we ballroom danced through constellations together how our fingertips wrinkled like walnuts outside the atmosphere how we sunbathed under the incandescence of blue supergiants

0

Mar 24, 2016

Mar 24, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC

bmore

Space Camp for the Sentimentalist

I heard I could tie all my veins and arteries together and they would circle the earth so I thought if we laced ours together we could reach the moon and watch stars blaze like one hundred billion cigarettes in the dark skinny dip through purple orange green supernova explosions curl up in a crater and watch the world spin like a cumbersome ballerina then we’d dive back down from the moon to the mothership and unbraid our veins, separating mine from yours. But without those vascular knots we’d start drifting apart just like Pangaea. We’d both begin forgetting how we ballroom danced through constellations together how our fingertips wrinkled like walnuts outside the atmosphere how we sunbathed under the incandescence of blue supergiants

8

my days unbraid unjudged they lurch from lust's tongue to the tip and emit heaven's hum. my thousand is one, with the mercies of a thunderous slake of thirst... a perpetual affection for your worst; at best - You have become the One twin of three things. what love has done to be no thing - you cannot fathom the pardon of such human wanting. but you can nevermore have affection for summer in the winter of our languid drum. my singing comes. what love has done to be Love i have done, anon. i have done all to please the ramparts of your siege but remain unloved.

0

Jun 10, 2013

Jun 10, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC

third-eye-candy

WHAT LOVE HAS DONE TO BE LOVE

my days unbraid unjudged they lurch from lust's tongue to the tip and emit heaven's hum. my thousand is one, with the mercies of a thunderous slake of thirst... a perpetual affection for your worst; at best - You have become the One twin of three things. what love has done to be no thing - you cannot fathom the pardon of such human wanting. but you can nevermore have affection for summer in the winter of our languid drum. my singing comes. what love has done to be Love i have done, anon. i have done all to please the ramparts of your siege but remain unloved.

21

turn on the shower hot, hot, hot, unbraid my hair on the scale 119.9, 2 less than friday, too much for my 5 foot tall body. sit on the shower floor breathe in only steam, rest my chin lipstick marks on my knees like blood. my roommate's dark hair tethered in the grooves of the shower floor, sweeps back and forth I twirl it around my finger force it down the drain. stand up too fast, too fast, too fast, dizzy sit back down, try again. orange face wash to keep my skin bright washes away perfectly sculpted cheek bones and nose lips pale pink, I bite them. charcoal scrub to clean out pores blackheads are no good only smooth skin will do. purple shampoo to keep my hair blonde purple conditioner blonder, softer gentle waves. pink razor removes unladylike hair soft, delicate, for surface use only don't cut, don't cut, don't cut. coffee scrub to lighten scars soften stretch marks, eliminating the reminders of what my skin, my body, has been through. face in the water, wash away my tears, naked face like a child wet hair dripping down my back hands and feet pruned. turn off the shower twist my hair in a towel soften skin with lotion, coconut boyfriends favorite. vaseline lips soft, kissable, desirable, float to bed the sheets are clean, folded in the laundry basket on the floor.

0

Mar 16, 2015

Mar 16, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC

bec-miller

purity ritual

turn on the shower hot, hot, hot, unbraid my hair on the scale 119.9, 2 less than friday, too much for my 5 foot tall body. sit on the shower floor breathe in only steam, rest my chin lipstick marks on my knees like blood. my roommate's dark hair tethered in the grooves of the shower floor, sweeps back and forth I twirl it around my finger force it down the drain. stand up too fast, too fast, too fast, dizzy sit back down, try again. orange face wash to keep my skin bright washes away perfectly sculpted cheek bones and nose lips pale pink, I bite them. charcoal scrub to clean out pores blackheads are no good only smooth skin will do. purple shampoo to keep my hair blonde purple conditioner blonder, softer gentle waves. pink razor removes unladylike hair soft, delicate, for surface use only don't cut, don't cut, don't cut. coffee scrub to lighten scars soften stretch marks, eliminating the reminders of what my skin, my body, has been through. face in the water, wash away my tears, naked face like a child wet hair dripping down my back hands and feet pruned. turn off the shower twist my hair in a towel soften skin with lotion, coconut boyfriends favorite. vaseline lips soft, kissable, desirable, float to bed the sheets are clean, folded in the laundry basket on the floor.

65

Constantly I must take off the hairpins, the embroidered shirts, and the lint skirts. I must sit on the wooden stool and unbraid my hair, then proceed to cut it short. I must be able to live without them: the conditioning –their idea of womanhood(genderhood) Every once in while I must banish them: to know I can live without them; they are not me ( all those ideas, all that heavy jewelry) —I am free; I do not weigh

0

Mar 30, 2020

Mar 30, 2020 at 6:55 PM UTC

GSP

Take off your garments ( shedding conditioning)

Constantly I must take off the hairpins, the embroidered shirts, and the lint skirts. I must sit on the wooden stool and unbraid my hair, then proceed to cut it short. I must be able to live without them: the conditioning –their idea of womanhood(genderhood) Every once in while I must banish them: to know I can live without them; they are not me ( all those ideas, all that heavy jewelry) —I am free; I do not weigh

5