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"uruguay" poems
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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
0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
maxneumann
The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)
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
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196
He told me I could search the world over and I would never find anything anywhere quite like him I'm a Leo   So I took that as a challenge and headed out on a journey I returned to his door two and a half years later triumphant When he opened his door I stated with pride "I did it!"   "Prove it." he demanded quietly leaning against his door frame, looking, both intrigued and unconvinced. I took off my back pack, set it on the step, reached in, carefully withdrew a mason jar and passed it to him. "What's this?" he asked "You." "It's an empty mason jar." "It's not at all empty. It's filled to the brim with all the stuff you're made of." "Oh? What kind of stuff?" " Inside that bottle is the magic of a rainbow I found in Greenland, star light I found in the North West Territories, wind from each of the four corners, air that's been caressed by butterfly wings from St. Lucia, sun beams from Samoa, the innocence of a newborn from Uruguay, the passion of a gypsy from Romania, the heat of a thunder bolt from South Carolina, the fragrance of the first bloom of summer from England, the poetic joy of Ireland, and one salty tear of a mermaid from Fiji.  You."  I said again triumphantly "All that's in here, eh?" I nodded. "Well, you must be tired, being right can be exhausting." he said with a grin as he reached out for my hand "It is and I am." I admitted placing my hand in his "Would you like to come in?" " Yes, I would like to come in. I'd like that very much."
0
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
catherine-ann-howatt-dickson
He Told me I Would Never
He told me I could search the world over and I would never find anything anywhere quite like him I'm a Leo   So I took that as a challenge and headed out on a journey I returned to his door two and a half years later triumphant When he opened his door I stated with pride "I did it!"   "Prove it." he demanded quietly leaning against his door frame, looking, both intrigued and unconvinced. I took off my back pack, set it on the step, reached in, carefully withdrew a mason jar and passed it to him. "What's this?" he asked "You." "It's an empty mason jar." "It's not at all empty. It's filled to the brim with all the stuff you're made of." "Oh? What kind of stuff?" " Inside that bottle is the magic of a rainbow I found in Greenland, star light I found in the North West Territories, wind from each of the four corners, air that's been caressed by butterfly wings from St. Lucia, sun beams from Samoa, the innocence of a newborn from Uruguay, the passion of a gypsy from Romania, the heat of a thunder bolt from South Carolina, the fragrance of the first bloom of summer from England, the poetic joy of Ireland, and one salty tear of a mermaid from Fiji.  You."  I said again triumphantly "All that's in here, eh?" I nodded. "Well, you must be tired, being right can be exhausting." he said with a grin as he reached out for my hand "It is and I am." I admitted placing my hand in his "Would you like to come in?" " Yes, I would like to come in. I'd like that very much."
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19
The Randomness of things is inexcusable How randomly we meet and part our ways We fall apart estranged from what we loved For no reason at all and no governing rules Fresh meat becomes Leftovers of tomorrow Fresh love is turned into a surge of pain The randomness of days is inexcusable How randomly the night steals us away And never to return from its mysterious depth our eyes get adjusted to the dark
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Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 9:22 AM UTC
veronica-pamoukaghlian
Randomness of Insomnialand (Nov 22, Montevideo, URUGUAY)
The Randomness of things is inexcusable How randomly we meet and part our ways We fall apart estranged from what we loved For no reason at all and no governing rules Fresh meat becomes Leftovers of tomorrow Fresh love is turned into a surge of pain The randomness of days is inexcusable How randomly the night steals us away And never to return from its mysterious depth our eyes get adjusted to the dark
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20
My blood is marked by genocide on the two sides of these Atlantic lines My fate was sealed with the blood stains of cotton workers from Marash slaughtered by the ottoman and the mixed blood of conquerors and massacred of masters and estranged slaves The rot of colonialism lurks underneath our 15 second democracy My eyes were numbed by what I hadn´t seen after the ***** war was over after the bowels of the Earth had vomited bones in Uruguay lifeless infant mummies in the soft heart of Africa after the tide brought in the loot of generals, green men of power and no shame My past was carved with knives on children´s bones in the mountains of Leninakan with hanged peasants on the slopes of Ararat My human pride was dumped in Rio de la Plata one summer night in a death flight that time when I had learnt to sing before I grasped the word The word was born from the colonial rot under our soil and under Africa The word was black and cast a deadly storm before the sun The word was Genocide
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Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 3:12 AM UTC
veronica-pamoukaghlian
The Word (New York, April 2006)
My blood is marked by genocide on the two sides of these Atlantic lines My fate was sealed with the blood stains of cotton workers from Marash slaughtered by the ottoman and the mixed blood of conquerors and massacred of masters and estranged slaves The rot of colonialism lurks underneath our 15 second democracy My eyes were numbed by what I hadn´t seen after the ***** war was over after the bowels of the Earth had vomited bones in Uruguay lifeless infant mummies in the soft heart of Africa after the tide brought in the loot of generals, green men of power and no shame My past was carved with knives on children´s bones in the mountains of Leninakan with hanged peasants on the slopes of Ararat My human pride was dumped in Rio de la Plata one summer night in a death flight that time when I had learnt to sing before I grasped the word The word was born from the colonial rot under our soil and under Africa The word was black and cast a deadly storm before the sun The word was Genocide
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48
spring time is root root root for the home team but more importantly ernies coffees made exactly the way I like mango and Mediterranean empanadas and endless stories from uruguay
0
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 12:42 PM UTC
hannah-johnson
little league
spring time is root root root for the home team but more importantly ernies coffees made exactly the way I like mango and Mediterranean empanadas and endless stories from uruguay
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14
**I waited long I waited hard I sunk real low I used The Bard You tease You taunt You lure You flaunt But most of all To me You haunt Unleash your soul Tell the tale Give me wind Beneath my sails For I am partial To the gossips Of wanton lustful fun Come on guys Bare your souls Your secret should be spun !!!** *I'll never tell of what went right Where fireworks exploded and we rocked the night I'll not breathe a word of lascivious acts that went on unwarranted that had us both on our backs I won't whisper a lie I won't tell and you won't cry I'll not ever utter that the earthquake in Uruguay was caused by an evening of Outback fun Take on an Aussie chick? Well, be prepared to come undone oppsss.... I told! UmAh!*
0
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 1:36 AM UTC
bathsheba
Enjoy JP .... The secret is out my friend !!! (co-write with Helen in response to JP's write called Helen)
**I waited long I waited hard I sunk real low I used The Bard You tease You taunt You lure You flaunt But most of all To me You haunt Unleash your soul Tell the tale Give me wind Beneath my sails For I am partial To the gossips Of wanton lustful fun Come on guys Bare your souls Your secret should be spun !!!** *I'll never tell of what went right Where fireworks exploded and we rocked the night I'll not breathe a word of lascivious acts that went on unwarranted that had us both on our backs I won't whisper a lie I won't tell and you won't cry I'll not ever utter that the earthquake in Uruguay was caused by an evening of Outback fun Take on an Aussie chick? Well, be prepared to come undone oppsss.... I told! UmAh!*
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42
so you write a lot, pouring entire waking existences, current n' prior, into a long and crafted 'pistles, and pixels and you got jive pride and then, the poem, you worked so hard for, ups and dies gets a few middling fingers of reads, dying on a vining of Juliet's pseudo poisoning elixir, no big deal, happens all the time but here's what's wielding & weirdly wilding: ***A poetpourri. of newly found co-inhabitors, from around the universe, from places unpronounceable, unlike Venus & Mars, (very poet-popular) and from previously places were never or seldom was heard a discouraging word, igniting a rewarded mutuality of a following up embracing*** par example; Tirunelveli Poland Lisbon Cyprus Bihar Uruguay Ankara Vienna Albania Tanzania India Bangladesh New Zealand/Australia Soldotna (Alaska) plus Texas, West Va., Ohio, and other exotica, like Nowhere what a blessing! Blessed art Thou o Lord, that permits the miracle that my integers of 0 & 1 can be translated into such varied exotica, in harmony, thus permitting this discovery of never visited oceans and landfalls of poetry never heretofore to join as one. Aman. <> nml
0
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 6:31 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
A Travelogue Prayer
so you write a lot, pouring entire waking existences, current n' prior, into a long and crafted 'pistles, and pixels and you got jive pride and then, the poem, you worked so hard for, ups and dies gets a few middling fingers of reads, dying on a vining of Juliet's pseudo poisoning elixir, no big deal, happens all the time but here's what's wielding & weirdly wilding: ***A poetpourri. of newly found co-inhabitors, from around the universe, from places unpronounceable, unlike Venus & Mars, (very poet-popular) and from previously places were never or seldom was heard a discouraging word, igniting a rewarded mutuality of a following up embracing*** par example; Tirunelveli Poland Lisbon Cyprus Bihar Uruguay Ankara Vienna Albania Tanzania India Bangladesh New Zealand/Australia Soldotna (Alaska) plus Texas, West Va., Ohio, and other exotica, like Nowhere what a blessing! Blessed art Thou o Lord, that permits the miracle that my integers of 0 & 1 can be translated into such varied exotica, in harmony, thus permitting this discovery of never visited oceans and landfalls of poetry never heretofore to join as one. Aman. <> nml
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54
Orillas del Uruguay una piedra encontré hoy aplastada, redondita, y de encendido color: pequeña obra maestra de agua, de viento -y de sol. Y decidí recogerla y usarla como reloj. El mismo peso me hace que la máquina mejor, la compañía es idéntica y guarda el mismo calor. Lo miro de vez en cuando, y es tan grande la ilusión, que veo unas manecillas y los signos de rigor. Al que pregunta la hora se la invento y se la doy. Me equivoco por minutos, que no es equivocación, que el tiempo no está en esferas sino a nuestro alrededor: en la orla de una nube, en el cáliz de una flor, en nuestras entrañas mismas, en algo como un temblor. Le doy cuerda al acostarme y con toda precaución, entre libros y anteojos lo pongo en el velador y antes de dormir parece que escucho cierto rumor. No sé si son los segundos, esa arenilla veloz, o acaso la vocecilla del río que lo pulió. Ante mi reloj de piedra no tengo más que un temor: si se me llega a romper, ¿a qué relojero voy? Sólo pueden componerlo ojos y dedos de Dios.
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945
Baldomero Fernández Moreno
Romance del reloj de piedra
Orillas del Uruguay una piedra encontré hoy aplastada, redondita, y de encendido color: pequeña obra maestra de agua, de viento -y de sol. Y decidí recogerla y usarla como reloj. El mismo peso me hace que la máquina mejor, la compañía es idéntica y guarda el mismo calor. Lo miro de vez en cuando, y es tan grande la ilusión, que veo unas manecillas y los signos de rigor. Al que pregunta la hora se la invento y se la doy. Me equivoco por minutos, que no es equivocación, que el tiempo no está en esferas sino a nuestro alrededor: en la orla de una nube, en el cáliz de una flor, en nuestras entrañas mismas, en algo como un temblor. Le doy cuerda al acostarme y con toda precaución, entre libros y anteojos lo pongo en el velador y antes de dormir parece que escucho cierto rumor. No sé si son los segundos, esa arenilla veloz, o acaso la vocecilla del río que lo pulió. Ante mi reloj de piedra no tengo más que un temor: si se me llega a romper, ¿a qué relojero voy? Sólo pueden componerlo ojos y dedos de Dios.
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42
She thought this would be easy Fun to be sure Exciting and dangerous Naturally of course The *** was amazing At all times of the day In backseats and parking lots Oh what a treat Time moved forward And things got close Feelings came into play And everything changed Thoughts of running away Uruguay sounded cool Fantasy would be fulfilled Reality hit hard Decisions where made Sadness and emptyness The new flavour of the day A taste she's remembers well
0
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
innocentvu
So long
She thought this would be easy Fun to be sure Exciting and dangerous Naturally of course The *** was amazing At all times of the day In backseats and parking lots Oh what a treat Time moved forward And things got close Feelings came into play And everything changed Thoughts of running away Uruguay sounded cool Fantasy would be fulfilled Reality hit hard Decisions where made Sadness and emptyness The new flavour of the day A taste she's remembers well
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20
found in wetland zones Uruguay's national bloom a legume, ceibo
0
Dec 9, 2022
Dec 9, 2022 at 7:57 PM UTC
joseph-g-schelling
Ceibo
found in wetland zones Uruguay's national bloom a legume, ceibo
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3
I'd prefer my politicians didn't belly laugh, chuckle or gosh gee shucks after proposing to deprive 24 million folks of health care especially of course when along with that they've suggested huge tax benefits for the already rich, & I'd really prefer my politicians to be like the president in Uruguay who drove an old jalopy & lived in a shack but I guess I'm just too much of a dreamer aren't I & for lords sake how naive can I be?
0
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
martin-bailes
I'd prefer ...
I'd prefer my politicians didn't belly laugh, chuckle or gosh gee shucks after proposing to deprive 24 million folks of health care especially of course when along with that they've suggested huge tax benefits for the already rich, & I'd really prefer my politicians to be like the president in Uruguay who drove an old jalopy & lived in a shack but I guess I'm just too much of a dreamer aren't I & for lords sake how naive can I be?
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16
la poesía debe ser hecha por todos y no por uno, dijo esas cosas solamente las puede decir un francés rengo que nadie sabe que hizo en la comuna de parís nadie sabe si se murió o no pudo todos se acuerdan de cuando tocaba el piano hasta altas horas del almita molestando a los vecinos que después tenían que ir a trabajar y se iban de la pensión mal dormidos pensando en la madre del pianoeta o poenista hablando pestes de ella cada vez que tropezaban con las piedras o los fríos de las calles de parís lo peor es que tenía un acorde en la cabeza y no se lo podían sacar se la pasaban fundiendo hierro soplando vidrio y no se podían sacar el acorde del rengo el rengo les había hecho un acorde en la cabeza y por allí pasaban furias, mañanitas, agüeros una vez a un ferroviario le paso un pajarito por ahí el pajarito volaba al futuro con un papel que decía futuro en el pico la cuestión es que los vecinos del rengo tenían cara de piano en la mitad del atardecer caían músicas de ellos o teclas de oro donde empezaba el horizonte una mujer bellísima cantaba en la cabeza de los vecinos del rengo que en realidad no era francés más bien era uruguayo solamente a un uruguayo se le puede ocurrir que la poesía debe ser hecha por todos       y no por uno que es como decir que la tierra es de todos y no solamente de uno que el sol no es de uno que el amor es de todos y de nadie       como el aire y la muerte es de todos       y la vida no tiene dueño conocido vos no eras rengo l'autréamont lo que pasó es que dejaste Uruguay se te cayó un pedazo que toca el piano y no deja dormir
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569
Juan Gelman
Siempre la poesía
la poesía debe ser hecha por todos y no por uno, dijo esas cosas solamente las puede decir un francés rengo que nadie sabe que hizo en la comuna de parís nadie sabe si se murió o no pudo todos se acuerdan de cuando tocaba el piano hasta altas horas del almita molestando a los vecinos que después tenían que ir a trabajar y se iban de la pensión mal dormidos pensando en la madre del pianoeta o poenista hablando pestes de ella cada vez que tropezaban con las piedras o los fríos de las calles de parís lo peor es que tenía un acorde en la cabeza y no se lo podían sacar se la pasaban fundiendo hierro soplando vidrio y no se podían sacar el acorde del rengo el rengo les había hecho un acorde en la cabeza y por allí pasaban furias, mañanitas, agüeros una vez a un ferroviario le paso un pajarito por ahí el pajarito volaba al futuro con un papel que decía futuro en el pico la cuestión es que los vecinos del rengo tenían cara de piano en la mitad del atardecer caían músicas de ellos o teclas de oro donde empezaba el horizonte una mujer bellísima cantaba en la cabeza de los vecinos del rengo que en realidad no era francés más bien era uruguayo solamente a un uruguayo se le puede ocurrir que la poesía debe ser hecha por todos       y no por uno que es como decir que la tierra es de todos y no solamente de uno que el sol no es de uno que el amor es de todos y de nadie       como el aire y la muerte es de todos       y la vida no tiene dueño conocido vos no eras rengo l'autréamont lo que pasó es que dejaste Uruguay se te cayó un pedazo que toca el piano y no deja dormir
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46
Había una vez un poeta portugués tenía cuatro poetas adentro y vivía muy preocupado trabajaba en la administración pública y dónde se vio que un empleado público de portugal gane para alimentar cuatro bocas Cada noche pasaba lista a sus poetas incluyéndose a sí mismo uno estiraba la mano por la ventana y le caían astros allí otro escribía cartas al sur qué están haciendo del sur decía De mi uruguay decía el otro se convirtió en un barco que amó a los marineros esto es bello porque no todos los barcos hacen así hay barcos que prefieren mirar por el ojo de buey Hay barcos que se hunden Dios camina afligido por el fenómeno ése es que no todos los barcos se parecen a los poetas del portugués salían del mar y se secaban los huesitos al sol Cantando la canción de tus pechos amada cantaban que tus pechos llegaron una tarde con una escolta de horizontes eso cantaban los poetas del portugués para decir que te amo antes de separarse tender la mano al cielo escribir cartas al uruguay Que mañana van a llegar mañana van a llegar las cartas del portugués y barrerán la tristeza mañana va a llegar el barco del portugués al puerto de montevideo siempre supo que entraba en ese puerto y se volvía más hermoso Como los cuatro poetas del portugués cuando se preocupaban todos juntos por el hombre de la tabaquería de enfrente el animal de sueños del hombre de la tabaquería de enfrente galopando con como josé gervasio de artigas por el hambre mundial El portugués tenía cuatro poetas mirando al sur al norte al muro al cielo les daba a todos de comer con el sueldo del alma él se ganaba el sueldo en la administración del país público y también mirando el mar que va de lisboa al uruguay Yo siempre estoy olvidando cosas una vez me olvidé un ojo en la mitad de una mujer otra vez me olvidé una mujer en la mitad de portugués me olvidé el nombre del poeta portugués De lo que no me olvido es de su barco navegando hacia el sur de su manita llena de astros golpeando contra la furia del mundo con el hombre de enfrente en la mano
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457
Juan Gelman
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Había una vez un poeta portugués tenía cuatro poetas adentro y vivía muy preocupado trabajaba en la administración pública y dónde se vio que un empleado público de portugal gane para alimentar cuatro bocas Cada noche pasaba lista a sus poetas incluyéndose a sí mismo uno estiraba la mano por la ventana y le caían astros allí otro escribía cartas al sur qué están haciendo del sur decía De mi uruguay decía el otro se convirtió en un barco que amó a los marineros esto es bello porque no todos los barcos hacen así hay barcos que prefieren mirar por el ojo de buey Hay barcos que se hunden Dios camina afligido por el fenómeno ése es que no todos los barcos se parecen a los poetas del portugués salían del mar y se secaban los huesitos al sol Cantando la canción de tus pechos amada cantaban que tus pechos llegaron una tarde con una escolta de horizontes eso cantaban los poetas del portugués para decir que te amo antes de separarse tender la mano al cielo escribir cartas al uruguay Que mañana van a llegar mañana van a llegar las cartas del portugués y barrerán la tristeza mañana va a llegar el barco del portugués al puerto de montevideo siempre supo que entraba en ese puerto y se volvía más hermoso Como los cuatro poetas del portugués cuando se preocupaban todos juntos por el hombre de la tabaquería de enfrente el animal de sueños del hombre de la tabaquería de enfrente galopando con como josé gervasio de artigas por el hambre mundial El portugués tenía cuatro poetas mirando al sur al norte al muro al cielo les daba a todos de comer con el sueldo del alma él se ganaba el sueldo en la administración del país público y también mirando el mar que va de lisboa al uruguay Yo siempre estoy olvidando cosas una vez me olvidé un ojo en la mitad de una mujer otra vez me olvidé una mujer en la mitad de portugués me olvidé el nombre del poeta portugués De lo que no me olvido es de su barco navegando hacia el sur de su manita llena de astros golpeando contra la furia del mundo con el hombre de enfrente en la mano
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From his coronet, through his tendons and right up to his crest When you looked at his withers you could see he was best His tail was magnificent and hung past his hock He was blessed with three white ones and a single black sock. The horse was a Crioulo that had come from Uruguay I fell for the majesty of this horse I would buy He was the colour of buckskin with a black tail and mane And the dun gene line backed him with a long thin black stain. He stood fifteen hands and he ran like a king Astride him made me want to just burst out and sing I raced over fields and I took him over fence He knew what I asked of him, he had so much sense. I loved him for thirty fours years from a colt And when he took his last breath it gave me a jolt But I’ll never forget Samson, for that was his name He let me ride on him but he was only ‘so’ tame. ©Joe Wilson – They only let you tame them so much…2014
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Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
joe-wilson
They only let you tame them so much...
From his coronet, through his tendons and right up to his crest When you looked at his withers you could see he was best His tail was magnificent and hung past his hock He was blessed with three white ones and a single black sock. The horse was a Crioulo that had come from Uruguay I fell for the majesty of this horse I would buy He was the colour of buckskin with a black tail and mane And the dun gene line backed him with a long thin black stain. He stood fifteen hands and he ran like a king Astride him made me want to just burst out and sing I raced over fields and I took him over fence He knew what I asked of him, he had so much sense. I loved him for thirty fours years from a colt And when he took his last breath it gave me a jolt But I’ll never forget Samson, for that was his name He let me ride on him but he was only ‘so’ tame. ©Joe Wilson – They only let you tame them so much…2014
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How refreshing to experience a reprieve from sultry weather when hazy, hot, and humid warm front unleashes a very short sweaty tether. Man hat tin dar overcast skies hint potential rain on the way perchance avast dastardly flickr ring instagram kickstarter linkedin shutterfly Taurus headed soundcloud skidding across celestial (span hushed) rink surprising forecasters by yowl ling whimsically, unexpectedly oye vay training (laser like), Asian outsize dark cloud climatological frontispiece randomly making next stop Old Rotten Gotham's Greenwich Village zero wing in on Poor (Chuck Keys) Uruguay neighborhood possibly confidently foretold by meteorologists today pointing at map showing cold air mass as it doth sashay July twenty first 2018, though Mother Nature defies pre diction pulling out all (busted) stops, vis a vis via "her" quay zee bag of tricks nay saying trained forecasters **** hush all self importance also to humble those mere mortals getting paid a handsome buck by anthropomorphizing viz cluck king in tandem with duck billed Baritone Horn Trumpeting "FAKE" luck trotting out obstreperous Sunny Rays, who doth beam with radiance a diametrically opposed extreme over zealous call for precipitation instead raining one after another quanta bright blinding meme outsmarting the seem ming airtight (cat in the bag) prediction leaving once supreme vouchsafing without a doubt forecasters left holding the empty bag large enough tuff fit the whole team.
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
matthew-scott-harris2p
A Spate Of Cool Temperatures
How refreshing to experience a reprieve from sultry weather when hazy, hot, and humid warm front unleashes a very short sweaty tether. Man hat tin dar overcast skies hint potential rain on the way perchance avast dastardly flickr ring instagram kickstarter linkedin shutterfly Taurus headed soundcloud skidding across celestial (span hushed) rink surprising forecasters by yowl ling whimsically, unexpectedly oye vay training (laser like), Asian outsize dark cloud climatological frontispiece randomly making next stop Old Rotten Gotham's Greenwich Village zero wing in on Poor (Chuck Keys) Uruguay neighborhood possibly confidently foretold by meteorologists today pointing at map showing cold air mass as it doth sashay July twenty first 2018, though Mother Nature defies pre diction pulling out all (busted) stops, vis a vis via "her" quay zee bag of tricks nay saying trained forecasters **** hush all self importance also to humble those mere mortals getting paid a handsome buck by anthropomorphizing viz cluck king in tandem with duck billed Baritone Horn Trumpeting "FAKE" luck trotting out obstreperous Sunny Rays, who doth beam with radiance a diametrically opposed extreme over zealous call for precipitation instead raining one after another quanta bright blinding meme outsmarting the seem ming airtight (cat in the bag) prediction leaving once supreme vouchsafing without a doubt forecasters left holding the empty bag large enough tuff fit the whole team.
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