| Poems By Rodrigo Villegas Observations in Verse by Traveler Rodrigo Villegas |
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 seabreeze 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.
A play of lights along the shore
For those returning from the night
Or beginning another day
A yawning seabreeze 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.
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.
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.
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 |
A walk in the park Whispers in the dark The cry of the lark In the morning. |
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.
Gathering green towers
Curving to their end
Spinning the whitehead flowers
Tumbling the seven story men.
And the winds through the trees uttered German.
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| ENGLAND IN MAY To be in England Is to have fingertips Cold most of the time The most beautific shades of green Upon green, upon green, upon blue Fingertips some of the time To be in England Is to know the practicality of its women disolved into the most imagined intimacies To be in England Is to be in England Is to be in England In the springtime Rodrigo Villegas |
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