Cuba has a power and a draw like a wonderful faded beauty.
CUBA SAW RED
Like a badge of blood in the sky,
voices of men and women sounded
strange notes, changed breaths
messages of humble pacifism
in a chemical cocktail
of human damage, strife,
altered ghoulish compilations,
with the echo, rather
of music, that came over
unknown hills.
A fatal labyrinth of gray desolation.
Half seen images of an unknown world
canvased in blood- drenched renderings
of famous murders and suicides.
The sun sinks into the ocean
as the night fills the sky.
Ares cuts a rapid swath
across the horizon
walking all in a red dream
of official coercion,
stubborn individualism.
Light to awakening.
White marble plinth.
Jose Marti ,long desired
appears in glory.
Sluggish testimony of sense
for the dim and weary.
Predictability and preservation.
Acres of space.
In Vedado the corner lot
overgrown with weeds
sparse tropical vegetation,
exposes a wall of coral rock.
Mystic fragrace of incense
fills the nostrils.
Hidden choirs.
Dream chants.
Caged by wrought iron
is the spot Marti'
as a common prisoner
was forced to break rocks.
Brilliant beaches,
blinding whiteness of sand,
early morning stillness.
Lemon-yellow,
sky-blue,
alabaster-white homes,
shine
against a rich blue sea.
Lyricism and light.
Pulsating.
Impenetrable,ineffable
to Cuban ears.
Dawn of terror.
Cuba saw red.
Poetry by TheresaCecilia
Read 622 times
Written on 2006-04-09 at 23:26
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CUBA SAW RED
Cuba has a power and a draw like a wonderful faded beauty.CUBA SAW RED
Like a badge of blood in the sky,
voices of men and women sounded
strange notes, changed breaths
messages of humble pacifism
in a chemical cocktail
of human damage, strife,
altered ghoulish compilations,
with the echo, rather
of music, that came over
unknown hills.
A fatal labyrinth of gray desolation.
Half seen images of an unknown world
canvased in blood- drenched renderings
of famous murders and suicides.
The sun sinks into the ocean
as the night fills the sky.
Ares cuts a rapid swath
across the horizon
walking all in a red dream
of official coercion,
stubborn individualism.
Light to awakening.
White marble plinth.
Jose Marti ,long desired
appears in glory.
Sluggish testimony of sense
for the dim and weary.
Predictability and preservation.
Acres of space.
In Vedado the corner lot
overgrown with weeds
sparse tropical vegetation,
exposes a wall of coral rock.
Mystic fragrace of incense
fills the nostrils.
Hidden choirs.
Dream chants.
Caged by wrought iron
is the spot Marti'
as a common prisoner
was forced to break rocks.
Brilliant beaches,
blinding whiteness of sand,
early morning stillness.
Lemon-yellow,
sky-blue,
alabaster-white homes,
shine
against a rich blue sea.
Lyricism and light.
Pulsating.
Impenetrable,ineffable
to Cuban ears.
Dawn of terror.
Cuba saw red.
Poetry by TheresaCecilia
Read 622 times
Written on 2006-04-09 at 23:26
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
