Comes dawn on a slow bell
A play of lights along the shore
For those returning from the night
Or beginning another day
A yawning sea breeze on our backs
We steam along the narrows of the darkness
We steal past the silent Spanish fort
The mountains dull yet haunting
Sweep high from the great bay
Sunrise in a surprise of gold and silver
The hills take on their splendid wraps of green
Strange birds streak the distance
I listen for the sounds of the port city.
Puerto Cabello, Venezuela.
Tourist in Mexico
Mexican days can enchant her
Everywhere flowers are flowing
Richness of color has touched her
Intricate prose has entwined her
Nothing can hold back her glowing
Driving from out of the rain
While the moon sails upright.
As Seen Through A Porthole
Upon this frosted glass
I trace the gallant bow
A line I cut to cast
The sudden Sea
From its eternity
A million dots it seems
Cut through the night in streams
To blend in one peculiar geometry.
Tourists In Mexico
Their skins creased by a hostile sun
Phased out the last remnant of glamour
They became as last years New York Times
Or like abandoned department stores
The native women, saved by the passion in their eyes
dissolved onto quiet cathedrals.
Cheeky old volcano
You rocked my quiet cradle
You turned the joy of dreaming
Into a dream unstable
From your high moldy green
The flash of some madness seen.
|Showers In The Park
Like a furious business
Tappy tap tap, overhead
The lion of substance
Roared in the distance
To this hiss of the god snake
Text Copyright Rodrigo Villegas
The Surfer And The Sea
Gathering green towers
Curving to their end
Spinning the whitehead flowers
Tumbling the seven story men.
And we traded our tulips for castles on the Rhine.
And the winds through the trees uttered German.
SERENE GERMANIC EYES
TEMPERED BY TEN FULL YEARS IN BRAZIL
NOW IN A CHAPEL BY A HILL
SHE PLAYS HER SILVER FLUTE
MELODIOUS TONES FLUTTER SKYWARD
UP LIFTING TO WHERE I FLOW
IN THE JOY OF HER FULL CHROMATIC BLUES
AND IN THE COURTYARD
TINY BIRDS ASCEND TO LISTEN
THEMES FROM BETTINA
THOSE OFFERINGS TO THE GODS
SHE COULD IF NEED BE
LEAD US OUT OF THE CITY
ALONG THE CURVING EDGE OF TIME
WE'D FOLLOW THOSE INTRICATE MELODIES
THOSE HINTS OF A NEW BEGINNING
AND WE WOULD NEVER - EVER
BE SEEN AGAIN.
BY Rodrigo Villegas
THE JACARANDA TREE
THE COLOR PURPLE
FULL IN BLOOM
THE JACARANDA AUDACIOUS
SPOTS THE LANDSCAPE
FILLS MY ROOM
AGLOW IN PURPLE DREAMS
HOW DID THAT COLOR COME TO BE?
WHO DROPPED IT FROM THE SKY
WHO SCOOPED IT FROM SOME SACRED SEA?
TO DELIGHT AND BEMUSE THE EYE?