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Simon Piesse
44/M/London    I am a French and Spanish Teacher and aspiring poet, with a particular interest in cultural hybridity and masculinities. My latest collection, 'Golden Ring' is ...

Poems

aj heatherly  Oct 2013
Pies
aj heatherly Oct 2013
Pies can get you lots of things,
Pies can get you through your day,
Some use pies to get place to place,
While others use pies to stand and stay,
Pies can help you when you are flat on your back,
Pies can not help you to know, I confess,
The difference between the the English word "pīz"
and the Spanish word "pē-es"
I want to add more to this, clean it up. But it was something funny I wanted to share, and it's been awhile since I put anything new out.
Michael Ryan Mar 2013
Strange danger, awaits around not the corner, but within ourselves.
The danger is present in every crevasse of our being.
No we do not possess the danger to wreak havoc upon ourselves.
It is as dangerous as a thunder storm in July.
When fireworks should be booming, spelling out words, and making us dream, just like Walt Disney.
There should be pies and pies and only pies, because why not have only pies.
They should be of all kinds blue, red, purple, orange the taste of a rainbow should rest in our tummies.
Everyone that passes by won't wonder how did they get so many pies, they will wonder, can I have some?
And I will tell them, why are you asking, the pies are begging to be eaten, can't you see?
Because in July when there should be Thunder storms, not this day, I offer you pie.
There will be no mistreating, no mistaking, no one will pronounce your name as cobbler in this day.
And when all the mighty and delicious pies that were never mistaken for cobbler, are gone.
All will know this was some very special day in July.  Where the thunder storms stopped.
Where someone just as special as those pies, but probably not as delicious.
Came to give us all what we were craving, and represented it with pie.
To those that weren't there, they will always think, pie pie pie I wonder what was so unique about this pie.
What is pie?
Pablo Neruda  Jun 2017
Tus pies
Cuando no puedo mirar tu cara
miro tus pies.
Tus pies de hueso arqueado,
tus pequeños pies duros.

Yo sé que te sostienen,
y que tu dulce peso
sobre ellos se levanta.

Tu cintura y tus pechos,
la duplicada púrpura
de tus pezones,
la caja de tus ojos
que recién han volado,
tu ancha boca de fruta,
tu cabellera roja,
pequeña torre mía.

Pero no amo tus pies
sino porque anduvieron
sobre la tierra y sobre
el viento y sobre el agua,
hasta que me encontraron.