Puerto Cabella

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.
Rodrigo Villegas
Travel Writer's Poems
Observations in Verse from a Traveler
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.
Volcano, One

Cheeky old volcano
You rocked my quiet cradle
You turned the joy of dreaming
Into a dream unstable


Volcano, Two

From your high moldy green
The flash of some madness seen.
Showers In The Park

Came rain
Like a furious business
Tappy tap tap, overhead
The lion of substance
Roared in the distance
To this hiss of the god snake
Rain
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
OAXACA, MEXICO


THE JACARANDA TREE

THE COLOR PURPLE
FULL IN BLOOM
THE JACARANDA AUDACIOUS
AND COMPLETE
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?

Rodrigo Villegas     
Rodrigo Villegas
Rodrigo Villegas
Rodrigo Villegas
Rodrigo Villegas
Rodrigo Villegas
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