Black Poetry : spain

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by romusthepoet, Jan 28, 2002.

  1. romusthepoet

    romusthepoet Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    spain
    by romus simpson


    the slow warm push of morning in spain
    drowns statues in barcelona
    lights a fountain on fire
    & births shadows in the olive orchards
    cotton morning silent as the prayer of mice
    who worship in the empty dawn kitchen
    & fret in the fresh bread & thank god

    then in an errant window
    that settles where your eye sees light
    that frames the hour in unbreathed light
    the first silk of air
    sweet country blooming all at once &
    not at all forever & now
    no one sees it come lean against the small world
    but men know the welling music
    dawn the gentle stranger with his hidden face
    & the reverent burro half shadow & burdened
    on a small road traveling unseen

    like an echo light comes across your floor
    you still sleeping & stirring watch it fall imperceptibly
    down the wall over the books etching psalms in yesterday’s cut roses
    beautiful planet your dream on
    the water in the face bowl starts to slowly shine

    & with that shine
    the first timed eloquent pulses of ave maria
    small pulses panning breath
    without shape
    only an intuition in the cells
    runs your body like walking a slow road
    the music of a photograph at noon that starts in
    the familiar gait of the day
    the scheduled lovers & people
    it is your breath & song in your heart
    your memory longing to stay here & worship

    you are lean from a year of traveling
    poor christ who’s courage is hunger
    & your traveling is not through
    portugal belgium then to moscow
    & further into the cold autumn continent through war

    spain is but a week & in two days
    will be lost as so many other countries blend
    into one face like leaving the cathedral light
    with something pressing then the regret
    a respite of penance you lay naked in
    the small sorrow that makes the cathedral beautiful
    our collective elegant suffering
    you forget you forget
    you lose spain too soon

    some morning will hold you
    greet you in its own language & windows
    stars moon sun breathless autumn land
    the coming boon of winter
    & this cool fire growing in the morning room
    each ave maria grows poems in you
    a fellowship of planters quilt a countryside
    each fragrant wordscape you move through
    each shoe you cannot find
    or white shirt you wear to market
    each grape you shine with your tongue
    it will be spain
     
  2. N2urSoul

    N2urSoul Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    romusthepoet

    What a great read! This raw talent here--the ability to draw the reader right in!! Thanks for sharing.

    N2
     
  3. alyce

    alyce Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    this put me in

    a gothic mood of great cathedrals with perfect stained glass.... old world spain... preserved by archetecture and the people that defy the trappings of the 21st century... and I hear the beautiful tenor solo echoing through the streets of barcelona and down through madrid....singing "Ave Maria"....

    thank you romusthepoet, you have created a beautiful piece indeed

    a
     
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