I should call it
Bitter Poetry
After all.
...
Observing
On Earth I see
The solar path
The result of both
Rotation and revolution
Scientific facts
Of this night
San Juan,
Night of witches
And bonfires
Smelling the smoke
Wondering what is it
They are burning
I hope with it
There goes
My pride
Blind man can't see
Every knave will have a slave,
The magic has gone
I wish I had
A cigarette to smoke
A glass of wine
To cheer up
And celebrate
This tragic night.
_________________________________________________________________
Deviantart image
14 comments:
"When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"
"When the hurlyburly's done.
When the battle's lost and won."
"That will be ere the set of sun."
"Where the place?"
"Upon the heath."
I LOVE witch tales...and truths.
You still writing GooooD-Canary Girl!
Take Care!
Forgot--That was Shakespeare-Macbeth I just figured EVERYONE knew that. Dulce I know YOU did--grin!
Oh BTW, I believe blind men see so much more than men with eyes. Just my opinion...
oh lady dulce! what wordwebs you do weave over here! "bitter poetry" - love it - but yours, dulce, yours is always fabulous no matter it's tone!
hey DULCISSIMA MY DEAR.
here we celebrate this too .
beutiful post .
kisses .
Ah Haaa to celebrate the tragic as well
xx
Are you getting tired of me telling you this is great? This IS great! :)
Blind man can't see... you could go places with that sentence. Love it.
I happened to chance upon your blog, and had to say: Wow I love that, really great imagery back there!
Cheers!
amazing images....☺
Much of Spanish culture seems to link celebration with destruction.
Brilliantly captured!
Take a peek at the words of Emily Dickinson - her imagery of hope - on my post 'Word Showers'.
i really enjoy the imagery. you really placed the readers where they need to be.
thank you for your comment on my bloghome. i have plans on returning the frog, there were problems with him each time i tried to move him. hopefully he'll be back soon...i miss him too.
warm smiles,
let the wine and stories flow my love... let them flow!
Poignantly tragic, Dulce...you capture raw and honest emotions in your poem, and you truly suffuse the painful truths of life and living into your fiery words.
Tengo tu vino tinto, primita...para celebrar algo bueno.
¡Chin-chin y la buena suerte! xo
Hoy hace 8 años que estoy en tu tierra, allá no se festeja San Juán, en estos años me he ido enterando de los detalles de esta noche y tengo muchas casualidades con esta fecha, de hecho marcó un gran cambio en mi vida, no sabía que me trasladaba en una noche mágica......
Besos:)
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