"zaina" poems
The road I choose
was meant to be
I've been waiting for this
Time. My moment.
My entire Life
Begging God
to make a
Way for me
knees would get numb
countless hours
I spent
Praying. Asking him
To open those
Closed doors
that stage
belong to me
its just calling
my name
Zaina oh Zaina
I could see it
That light that
Shines so bright.
It's my time now
And nothing
I mean nothing
will stop me now
By: ZainaMusic
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
When ever he sees her, he finds her so so attractive,
even though she may not be the most beautiful girl.
Every time she is around him,
his heart starts beating so fast,
its takes some time to become normal again.
He can be himself around her and loves when she smiles really big,
especially if it is he who made her smile.
He loves her shy smile and how sometimes she can become so shy.
He could look at her all day and not get bored.
He likes her gentleness and calm nature but at the same time how she is lively and energetic.
Most of all he admires how strong she is with her values but wishes she would express her feelings.
He loves how she acts like a kid sometimes,
how she is so young inside.
He loves how she is so secretive of her shampoo and how she is obsessed with soccer.
He loves her caring nature towards him.
Not to get to personal but he can't get enough of her curves.
She is very attractive to him, her height, skin color, hair every thing is perfect.
Basically he likes everything about her.
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
¿Y fue por este río de sueñera y de barro
que las proas vinieron a fundarme la patria?
Irían a los tumbos los barquitos pintados
entre los camalotes de la corriente zaina.
Pensando bien la cosa, supondremos que el río
era azulejo entonces como oriundo del cielo
con su estrellita roja para marcar el sitio
en que ayunó Juan Díaz y los indios comieron.
Lo cierto es que mil hombres y otros mil arribaron
por un mar que tenía cinco lunas de anchura
y aún estaba poblado de sirenas y endriagos
y de piedras imanes que enloquecen la brújula.
Prendieron unos ranchos trémulos en la costa,
durmieron extrañados. Dicen que en el Riachuelo,
pero son embelecos fraguados en la Boca.
Fue una manzana entera y en mi barrio: en Palermo.
Una manzana entera pero en mitá del campo
expuesta a las auroras y lluvias y suestadas.
La manzana pareja que persiste en mi barrio:
Guatemala, Serrano, Paraguay, Gurruchaga.
Un almacén rosado como revés de naipe
brilló y en la trastienda conversaron un truco;
el almacén rosado floreció en un compadre,
ya patrón de la esquina, ya resentido y duro.
El primer organito salvaba el horizonte
con su achacoso porte, su habanera y su ******
El corralón seguro ya opinaba YRIGOYEN,
algún piano mandaba tangos de Saborido.
Una cigarrería sahumó como una rosa
el desierto. La tarde se había ahondado en ayeres,
los hombres compartieron un pasado ilusorio.
Sólo faltó una cosa: la vereda de enfrente.
A mí se me hace cuento que empezó Buenos Aires:
La juzgo tan eterna como el agua y el aire.
942
in my dreams i spit blood & gum. it always seems to fall forever, which is weird because i'm standing on solid ground. / in my dreams there's so many babies, the tiny forgotten ones & the ones i birthed & the ones that died inside me. / i don't know what it means, just like i don't know what it means when she doesn't eat all day / just like when he sits behind me or when i wish i was / zaina. / do the ambulances haunt your neighborhood? is it like a wool wool wool blanket the way / the sirens keep going for hours? / she tells me she wants fries, or that she doesn't like her dad, and i'm there but i don't know what to say. it's not like last year, last year when i was made of metal & we were all / figments. it's better now because i never wanted to be dust. i think i just wanted to / **** my fingers & sit in the back of class / i wanted my heartbeat to sit down, to relax / babe, take a load off
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
En Lima... En Lima está lloviendo
el agua sucia de un dolor
qué mortífero! Está lloviendo
de la gotera de tu amor.
No te hagas la que está durmiendo,
recuerda de tu trovador;
que yo ya comprendo.. . comprendo
la humana ecuación de tu amor.
Truena en la mística dulzaina
la gema tempestuosa y zaina,
la brujería de tu "sí".
Mas, cae, cae el aguacero
al ataúd, de mi sendero,
donde me ahueso para ti...
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