poetry
Si algún miembro desea agregar su trabajo, háganoslo saber.
Un poema para MAYO
del miembro Tyler Heart:
Viola y el director
Te recuerdo entrando
sin siquiera una segunda mirada,
sin notarme
no verme parado ahí
no abierto al romance.
Miré abiertamente,
mirando hacia afuera
mirando directamente en tu dirección,
casi hipnotizado,
dejado en trance,
mi corazón suplicándote
por una sola oportunidad.
Todos se quedaron boquiabiertos
con tu audición,
ganarte el papel
junto con la exposición de mi corazón,
se paró en el lugar de la etiqueta
activaste algún tipo de ignición.
Fue tan fácil para mí decir que sí
como firmé tu contrato
justo encima de la línea de puntos,
justo debajo de tu dirección.
Recuerdo temblar un poco
mientras trataba de no hacer un lío.
No creo que nunca supiste realmente
cómo me sentí de verdad,
como trataste de ignorar de alguna manera
estas cartas que nos habían repartido.
Quizás fue la orquesta
o yo suplicándote mientras estaba arrodillado.
Si pudiera verlo claramente
entonces, ¿por qué no pudiste verlo también?
Yo el conductor
Tu la viola,
mi viola con visión borrosa,
ciego a los afectos de nuevo
de lo cual me sentí sinceramente.
Nunca me respondiste
entre espectáculos matinales y músicos
¿Fue que no eras libre?
comprometido en cambio con otra persona,
me senté aquí con mis sospechas
reflexionando sobre si estaba destinado a serlo.
Me quedé aquí tantas noches
con la esperanza de que puedas volver,
con la esperanza de que veas la luz
la luz de cada vela, yo sí quemé
mi llama de alguna manera ardiendo y brillante
mi corazón, cómo anhelaba tan salvajemente.
El sonido de cómo rasguea
y como late en el tiempo
la vibración de los tambores de la caldera
y como siguen repicando las campanas tubulares,
colocado cómodamente entre ambos pulmones
para ti, mis palabras de alguna manera siempre riman.
Y ahora veo como las cosas son muy diferentes
Nunca fuimos dos piezas
nunca un dúo
nunca un conjunto,
habiendo imaginado algo magnífico,
Veo ahora que un conductor está solo
él juega para la liberación
él juega para olvidar
él establece el tempo
el estandar
el ritmo y el ritmo,
Sigo siendo significativo
mientras estoy solo
y sigo dando golpecitos con los pies.
A poem for APRIL
poem from member Tyler Heart:
Eros
Oh tired weeping man before me, has’t one become so over fed with such hefty emotion, enough to soften ones heart?
I recall some time ago, a man who was hardened to all feeling, not wanting to owe his life to another for the sake of love but yet here I see before me a once dominant male, now buckled over with such lustful heartache.
Maybe one has’t had his heart melted over fire of red, now alight with such passion that he has forgotten his former self. I would say that this fellow of old is now a fella of new.
For the love this person has’t given you has’t surely given thee yet more dimensions. As I see before my eyes, this man is now ready for the world but what if the world is not quite ready for him.
Tyler Heart
A poem for March
from member Tyler Heart:
Bobbin the Hip Hoppin Robin from Wapping
This is the story of Bobbin the Robin,
often seen in his home town of Wapping making a living by robbing or plotting.
He’s a clever little Robin,
always on the go, not used to stopping.
He often flies across the world globetrotting or at the wheel whilst super-yachting.
Life for a bird like this is actually pretty shocking, even when flocking within season between Hocking, Wapping and that other place, Thingamabobbin.
It’s the life of the Hip Hoppin Robin, known for his dancing and lockin’, spending his nights rockin n bopping whilst inside some drunken lock-in, body poppin’!
But there was this one morning when he awoke and his head was throbbin’, for on his way home the eve before he came to a stopping, as he became tangled up in his neighbours silk stocking!
He slipped, tripped and fell upon his noggin’ and upon dropping he took quite the clobbering, left dizzy, in a daze and slobbering.
Poor Bobbin the Hip Hoppin Robin was left with a great big lump upon his Toppin’. His leg was hurt which left him hobbling, how this had happened was quite mind boggling he thought to himself as he stood up vomiting. Gone was that modelling career he had been promising.
When the wife woke up and noticed, she was sobbing and gave Bobbin a throttling and when he went outside, he saw the other birds eavesdropping and gossiping.
So Bobbin puffed out his chest & went jogging, just far enough to do the shopping, spluttering yet courageous and coughing.
Each day that passed over in Wapping, he would spend cleaning and mopping. He would train with weights, jumping, lifting & dropping.
Not even the time had he been clocking’.
One thing for sure about Bobbin the Robin is that he was determined to beat the coffin and for now he was a changed bird, found in the kitchen chopping or on Instagram photoshopping.
The fall had taught our Robin to just move forwards whilst nodding’, and for us all to remember the story of Bobbin the Hip Hoppin Robin from Wapping.
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