"valencia" poems
sprinkle your love over
me like cherry blossoms in
spring where everywhere
everywhere everywhere
are littered with pinks
but then summer came and
you forget about valencia like the sun forgets the
sky and I drop petal by petal flowers
by flowers and the streets are steeped in
longing
autumn came and left, breathing life into a
crocus and drawing it away just as quickly like how you
take each of my breath away from
me and each of my heart beat walks away
with your steps
the blurriness of winter borne the snowdrops
snowdrops, snow drops, the death of that love that
once bloomed in my heart.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
Atletico’s progress to this stage has been somewhat sloppy to say the least, following a second leg showing at the Vicente Calderon which allowed minnows CE L’Hospitalet to walk away with an historic 2-2 draw.
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The loss at Valencia on Sunday for a near full strength Real Madrid returning from victory at the Club World Cup and a winter break came as a shock to everyone.
A title race is well and truly on again this season so it may come as some relief for the players of both camps to lock horns away from La Liga.
Failures for both Barcelona and Real Madrid at the weekend mean Atletico are level on points with Barcelona, each a point behind leaders Real but Carlo Ancelotti’s side do have a game in hand.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
I wear no sunglasses that Shield my
eyes from the realities
of this world
that put a Valencia filter over the
things that I see or a sensor
over the things that I hear.
I do not push the news stations
through a small strainer only
allowing the ”easy to
handle” stories to reach my
cup for me to consume.
I know that red is this world's favorite
acrylic,
black it's favorite oil paint,
and blue it's favorite watercolor.
the painting of our world has red
splattered across every
building and seeping out of every
wrist,
black in every sidewalk crack, every
alleyway, and across
every, screaming, mouth,
and blue welling in every eye.
I know this, but I have ripped the tape
from my mouth, bandaged my
wrists, and wiped my eyes
I have become comfortable.
opening my mouth
Like pulling the trigger of a gun
Aimed at anyone trying to Paint those
colors back into my life
shooting their thoughts down making
pastel bullet holes so the light can
shine in.
I have become too comfortable.
I only come to this realization when I
hear gunshots coming from a hand
who does not know what it is
holding
when I hear seemingly Innocent
Voices say
“Well, why does it even matter,
if you've given a ******* before, what's the hesitation to doing it
again?”
“ Because I said no.”
“ But you've already done it, before.”
I've told you, I do not wear filtered
glasses.
but sometimes I forget that people are
programmed with black paint on
their brushes ready to cover over
your mouth again.
I remember that as soon as I learned
to rip the tape from my mouth
I realize that I can't just watch them
bring the tape closer until they
push it over my lips
I have to scream, as soon as I see it,
Because that is what my mouth is for.
And I have to fight to keep it of,
because that is what my hands and
wrists are for.
And I have to look- not like the prey
trying to stay out of sight,
but like a warrior with eyes like
swords
and a mouth...
like a gun.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
This One Time,
I stripped naked
and ****** my couch.
This other time
I threw a copy of The Fountainhead
at an RV moving at 64 miles an hour
I have a tree
In the foothills
named Clementine Valencia Jeff
and the same day, me and John
made a religion with Adam based
on cloud formations
You see, I'm a weird guy
I got
I got problems
I see a therapist
Her name's Rhonda
She likes Batmaa aaaaan
She sees people worse than me
but recognizes I got problems
and she
she tries to help
cause
cause I got problems
and the
and the problem
with having problems
is
is function
You
You can't do anything
You live to defy expectation
And - and it's really hard
to get into college
You never really get accepted
and and
and even if
even if you do you
you
you never really accept that
It's hard out there for a freak
I get lost within my own
ridiculous quandaries
You feel like you're not
you're not built right
like something's wrong
and you just punch and
and kick and
and destroy
Whatever feels des-
destroy able because it gives
purpose
Bu
But I finally think I -I
found my mantra
My my
My compass thing
My map whatever
It has the same number of
letters of something very very dear
to me
and
and that holds meaning
I
I wrote it on the back of my door
my door
and- and I sprayed it on a
shirt
I actually got it from a videogame with
with a
with Ayn Randian themes
It's religious
and
and every night now
before I go to sleep
I
I- I look into Neil Patrick Harris's
eyes
feel the warmth of my wonderful blanket
admire some handiwork
read about serial arson
close my eyes and tell myself
She is our Salvation
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 2:05 PM UTC
Valencia Oranges
A yellow coated dream
Mustard-colored-tiles-are-much-colder-than-they-seem
Swimming in a sweatshirt
Watery-eyed and rosy cheeked
Music playing faintly
Curiosity is peaked
I imagine waking up
To humidity and cream
In my coffee, jingle my loft key
As I walk my way upstream
Sunglasses tint
All the oranges red
Valencia enters my veins
Rouged and widespread
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 12:54 AM UTC
Och, you and your divine shape
How beautiful you are to me
You drive me wild with want
I simply cannot master you!
You are oft'times hard to get
But nary shall I quit you
Tune my heartstrings up a notch
Fret forever, I try to get it right
You quiver exquisite at my touch
A ravishing delight to my ravenous senses
Would you GIVE a STAR for my attempts
Don't over tease my nerves to distraction!
I slave intense o'er you, day and night
Yes, you're the one with the hold on me
Look at the inevitable shape I'm in
All 'cause-a you and your curvy shape!
The airline broke your sister's neck
Yah mon, I cried, mah Lord. I all but died, ha!
Caught in a quagmire of deep distress
You, my comely cutaway, pegged me up again.
Love to cradle you on my eager lap
My arms around in close embrace
A gentle, organic creature, such as you
I dare not grip you hard at all.
My fingertips so acquainted with your girth
Your rosette rings out my notes with charm.
Enchanting me with deep nuance
Without trying, she pleases so!
The sole bridge 'tween the world and me
My subtle love, only my Valencia.....
S T, 04 Avril 2013
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 9:54 AM UTC
At first when it happens
it's like a spell, I cast it, it moves me, and I use it.
To the youth with it. Some hollow-gutted frogs' yolks and thrice its weight in pigeon carcass and fly.
Gruesome fruit loosies.
Then somehow the trance begins, the anecdotal watch stopes moving, to the hedge-burn up to the meadow go the witnesses, moving under the guile of fresh addiction. Wicked words, fiery,
a conflagration.
Burning us up. Two in two out. And just as they get it right, the moon hollows itself out, the sky undergoes a change, a nuance splits open the gut of the world and comes indifference, apathy,
anxiety.
A poem comes.
It crashes down over my head like an arrow-carved apple, from the Natives. Bending me on my side, my flat side, where I have lived one-hundred years on my side, my left leg nuzzled in between you and the blankets we bought at the thrift store on 26th and Valencia. And it worries me, now that they shift from top-floor to basement in some corner of the Salvation Army. No one owns that magic. They touch the bruised knots of its cotton fibers, and for what-
a throw blanket in a common room.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Quiero ir a España
Quiero andar en las playas de Cadiz
Caminar por las calles de Valencia
Andar en los lugares turísticos
Comiendo un helado de vanilla
Con el amor de mi vida
Pasando un buen tiempo tomando fotografías
Eso sí que me gustaría
Miraría a los ojos al amor de mi vida
Le diría cuanto lo admiró
Cuanto lo quiero
Después irnos a comer a un buen filete
Platicando, riendo, haciendo memorias haha pero cuando sucedería eso? cuando..
Spain
I want to go to Spain
I want to be in the beaches of Cadiz
Walk through the streets of Valencia
Visit turístic places
With the love of my life
Having a great time
eating a vanilla ice cream cone
with the love of my life
taking photography pictures
That I'd like
I'd look in his eyes
I'd tell him how much I admire him
how much I love him
Then later we'd go eat a nice steak
talking, laughing, making memories
haha but when will that happen? When?
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
Helo, helo por do viene el moro por la calzada,
caballero a la jineta encima una yegua baya,
borceguíes marroquíes y espuela de oro calzada,
una adarga ante los pechos y en su mano una azagaya.
Mirando estaba Valencia, como está tan bien cercada:
-¡Oh, Valencia, oh Valencia, de mal fuego seas quemada!
Primero fuiste de moros que de cristianos ganada.
Si la lanza no me miente, a moros serás tornada;
aquel perro de aquel Cid prenderélo por la barba,
su mujer, doña Jimena, será de mí cautivada,
su hija, Urraca Hernando, será mi enamorada,
después de yo harto de ella la entregaré a mi compaña.
El buen Cid no está tan lejos, que todo bien lo escuchaba.
-Venid vos acá, mi hija, mi hija doña Urraca;
dejad las ropas continas y vestid ropas de pascua.
Aquel moro hi·de·perro detenédmelo en palabras,
mientras yo ensillo a Babieca y me ciño la mi espada.
La doncella, muy hermosa, se paró a una ventana;
el moro, desque la vido, de esta suerte le hablara:
-Alá te guarde, señora, mi señora doña Urraca.
-Así haga a vos, señor, buena sea vuestra llegada.
Siete años ha, rey, siete, que soy vuestra enamorada.
-Otros tantos ha, señora, que os tengo dentro en mi alma.
Ellos estando en aquesto el buen Cid que se asomaba.
-Adiós, adiós, mi señora, la mi linda enamorada,
que del caballo Babieca yo bien oigo la patada.
Do la yegua pone el pie, Babieca pone la pata.
Allí hablará el caballo bien oiréis lo que hablaba:
-¡Reventar debía la madre que a su hijo no esperaba!
Siete vueltas la rodea alrededor de una jara;
la yegua, que era ligera, muy adelante pasaba
hasta llegar cabe un río adonde una barca estaba.
El moro, desque la vido, con ella bien se holgaba,
grandes gritos da al barquero que le allegase la barca;
el barquero es diligente, túvosela aparejada,
embarcó muy presto en ella, que no se detuvo nada.
Estando el moro embarcado, el buen Cid que llegó al agua,
y por ver al moro en salvo, de tristeza reventaba;
mas con la furia que tiene, una lanza le arrojaba,
y dijo: -Recoged, mi yerno, arrecogedme esa lanza,
que quizás tiempo vendrá que os será bien demandada.
1.6k
The flames of Valencia
Rips through my veins
His colors course
Through the dreams
In my eyes…
Astounding architectures
Along his streets
I gathered….
Whispering expressive
Spanish songs,
In the core of my ears…
Inside a taxi cab..
Running wild
Unmindful,
My heart soaring
Like the taps of
The feet of
A flamenco dancer…..
Wrapping my very soul
With eclectic passions
Rhythm and rhymes
Church bell that chimes
Carelessly,
Impatiently
He moves his fingers in a dance
….and
To me,
It is a caress,
that leads me to a trance…..
With a soft cry of passion
I walked the streets
Of Valencia
Like a woman
Possessed…
With his glory
With his story
Loving minute after
Minute
Of his magnificence and wonder…
Never wanting to leave
his Mediterranean shores…..
Sights and sounds of Valencia…….
With his pious ,stately cathedrals
Where I knelt in awe
Before the ******
Vowing to return,
A hungry kiss upon his cheek
Shall I plant before I go...
This I promise and this I know….
Valencia…..in my heart
You will always stay…
In fervent wishes,
This, I truly pray….
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
Estas rachas de marzo, en los desvanes
-hacia la mar- del tiempo; la paloma
de pluma tornasol, los tulipanes
gigantes del jardín, y el sol que asoma,
bola de fuego entre dorada bruma,
a iluminar la tierra valentina...
¡Hervor de leche y plata, añil y espuma,
y velas blancas en la mar latina!
Valencia de fecundas primaveras,
de floridas almunias y arrozales,
feliz quiero cantarte, como eras,
domando a un ancho río en tus canales,
al dios marino con tus albuferas,
al centauro de amor con tus rosales.
1.4k
Essentia of magenta in
Each twinkling eye.
A goddess of Valencia,
A princess of Versailles.
Each dance, flit, jive, bob,
Conga, cut a rug.
Yet, only one do I intend to woo to Love.
The smokey air! overdue heat! Can NOT contain.
Ahh!!! and without a care, I waft Away the steam.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
TWO-LINE RENGA
by Cezar Ruis Aquino in collaboration with Sooey Valencia
For the longest time I have always thought that the most beautiful thing in the world is a blank page.
Perhaps next to a page where some words, innocent as birds, have found their way to.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 2:44 PM UTC
Tonight I’ve felt the switch go off fifteen hundred times
Swinging like a pendulum, crawling through the vines
I spoke in tongues of laughter in the fields of chlorimine
My bones are broken bruises as i'm missing you as mine
But I don’t want to go back to you.
I look up at squinting blue eyes in an autumn meadow
Stare at the widows in the aquamarine sky
I’m tired of it’s blinding rays
I'm tired of begging myself to be
More stable
More subtle
More sweet
Like a Valencia picture tacked up on to a cardboard wall
When I’m cracking around the edges
Of being the woman who I’m not again
I think I’ll just cry tonight
Through the cravings of my mania
On fascination street
******* and alive
Singing by the ocean
Trying to survive
I think I’ll just die tonight
They always leave me when I’m silent
Swerving on the highways
wild and fragile
Fading in to outer space
Losing track of time
Tonight I’ve felt the switch go off fifteen hundred times
Swinging like a pendulum, crawling through the vines
But I don’t want to go back to you.
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 12:48 PM UTC
¡A mí vais a decirme
a qué suenan las escolleras
pulsadas por las olas;
qué es lo que canta el cielo
tras su concertación de transparencias;
qué aromas llevan las embarcaciones
a donde no florece el limonero!
¡A mí vais a decírmelo!
¡A mí vais a decirme
que no es la luz que emana de los cuerpos
el origen del mediodía!
Y aquellos nombres -Carolina,
Azucena, Jacinta-,
¡a mí vais a decirme
si fueron nombres de mujeres, barcas
flores! ¡Como si yo no lo supiera,
como si hubiese yo olvidado
qué, quiénes fueron esas sombras
que daban vida a estos espacios mágicos!
¡A mí vais a decírmelo!
978
Spanish bluebells
Lantana flowers
Valencia rose
Scilla hispanica's
All soaking the sun
Yea
Their all from Spain...
The maker of mine dame
Creator of mine chosen one!!!
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
Today I saw a sign in a
town called Cahirsiveen
County Kerry, advertising
what appeared to be, Sive.
I sieved my thoughts, and
what came through the fine
mesh of my mind were the
filings of amnesia.
Earlier, I had passed by Glencar
the foothills en route to Valencia
an island off Ireland, last stop
before New York harbour.
Hugh O' Flaherty, The Vatican
Pimpernel was looking at me
through James Joyce's glasses as
I passed Daniel O'Connell's church.
It was O'Connell country for sure,
**** a native of the island could
share the ball with O'Dwyer and
Paudie O'Se, the three coasters.
Balinskelligs, monks Islands,
isolation, invasion, inhospitable
weather, antarctic insurmountable's,
Inis, Inn's, Inch, Tom Crean, Fungie.
I sieved my sievings only to discover
that Sive was by John B Keane, but
guess what, the Queen of the Kingdom
should be Miriam O'Callaghan!
Ps.
This is a poem with a colloquial
flavour, one needs to be a native
to comprehend it.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 3:27 PM UTC
We talk about the future like we've been there before.
Hope confidently,
Say it like you've seen it.
We're all wearing floral shirts but
We've never been south enough to
See real petals thaw.
The old have been there, but they're old.
Maybe they'll key into validity
When they know the
Instagram filters by heart-
Even then, times have changed.
This black and white future you've been to
Isn't the valencia filtered future on my map.
I do not ask the truth-
We all know that we know not.
I do not say stop-
We must pursue this light even if none have seen it.
I'm just saying.
Don't lie.
Find faith in internal fire-
Not the distant flicker you've found comforting to imagine at the end.
Don't sit around here,
Bullshitting.
It's ok to be scared.
It's ok to say that tomorrow is just a word-
And that for some it never will be more.
We talk about the future like we've been there before.
But right now we're here.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
Sitting underneath a palmtree.
Its shadows creating a piece of art on the gloomy obscure grey street tiles in front of me.
As the wind flows the portrait of leaves is flowing with it in harmony.
It is dancing to its favorite tune.
A tune especially made for this moment. A tune of mother nature at its purest. A tune I can listen to forever.
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC
Symmetry deficits call for chiaroscuro.
Highlight the summits,
and diffuse shadows at the vertex
of cheekbone and mandible.
Colour the apples, rubescent as newborn flesh,
and soften edges for a gentle definition.
If you paint claret from bow to corner
it can create something fuller; induce desire-
Valencia can bleach the blemishes.
Liquid or matte lies in pesky furrows
and rots like carrion in warm weather:
remember to blot excess sebum prior.
Are you pneumatic? Applications can support you-
with enough you can acquire
something ample for a decade.
Look to the lens. It winks;
raise brow in a clean cut, diagonal
from nostril edge: the playful frame apertures admire.
Flash.
Share with friends:
refresh/close/open,
and sigh at affirmations.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
building news
Scientists discovered a heart lost in the bemuda triangle.
far offshore was a man drowning in love
for sure the ocean was Valencia.
a curvy woman, he rose with tides as his hands hope to hold her.
breaking news
Love is a conspiracy theory formed in the chest like the triangular trade, we are slaves to our hearts. slowly dying in the hands of the ignorant.
in other news
insecurities are like sharks' caudal fins , tipping in our visibilities everytime we hide it.
Love comes when it's least expected.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC
Even when you have it in front of you it's already gone
Music lasts longer than people
Into the seamless dusk of night
Nomadic illusions
Colorful fumes
Holding what's not real
The lonely dance awaits
She left before the lights came on
Lay with lie
The beat is dead
Bummed out tunes
Run and run and run
Towards the disco-tech
© C. Valencia
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
Gigante oso bailarin en el muelle me sopia beso en Valencia
Los turistas se detienes no me emociocan
Pero hay momentos entre congelado en vigor e inteligente
Mi espanol fue apreciado y aplaudido
Sevilla fue impersonante
Granada y Toledo asombras
Luego vinieron disturbios in Barcelona y una vida Francesa quitado
Espana me tienes El Prado y Valencia
Mi corazon siempre esta contigo y con Cervantes
C@rainbowchaser2021
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 2:07 PM UTC
You had no room for a garden at your
house in Valencia
so you made an Eden from brick walls.
I remember your kitchen full of tropics;
how you loved the hot plants.
Loved what they whispered of even
more; fleshy, supple summer nights
with no need of sleep.
Do you remember those golden afternoons,
those siestas full of honeysuckle
and oranges?
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
The big doors roll open
at sunrise at sunset
they roll closed
the man with the hand truck
moves his bins and flats
his palette loads across the lot
Living downhill
from a fruit stand
I’ve come to accept
that joy can appear
at your feet
Red Delicious, Braeburn
Fuji and maybe
D’Anjou on a good day
Valencia Vidalia or Walla Walla
Sweet
Reach down pick up
Be open hearted don’t
expect too much--
the little that comes your way
tastes in its scarcity
full of life this life your life
I pray uphill in the morning
and I pray uphill at night
to the God of Gravity Satsuma!
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC