{Start Update 02/23/06}
It was a crazy day I am fine healthwise other than thatlot of things to do at work and I was at work. I did started a poem.. adifferent one. I thought I am done with it but once I took the pad fromwhich I thought of typing it in here then I thought I may have to rewrite somepart of that poem. It is a about an event and a person I met more than24 years back. Sorry no poem today. Just this update.
Thanks for understanding.
{End Update 02/23/06}
Sickness comes overnight. I woke up sneezing all around. My nose allclogged up with a light fever. I took the day off and rested. Sleptmost of the evening. In the morning I finished a poem even whenmy head weighed a ton. Don’t ask me too many questions after goingthrough the whole post.. haha
Enjoy.
Beauty By The Bay.
The fog from the pacific blown,
Deep into the downtown canyons,
Steel and concrete, glass and plastic,
San Francisco most of the days woke up,
With the blanket nature spreads.
Down sleeps homeless souls who don’t feel,
The cold, in the intoxication of alcohol and drugs.
Prostitutes walking past used condoms in aversion,
Youth wandering wild with loaded guns,
And cops driving by heading home after a good nigh sleep,
Oh’ Tenderloin makes me wonder,
What fills in and what pours out,
Worthiness and unworthiness,
As all into the beauty of a great city merges.
Every step through Market street and Powell street took,
Spoke a piece of history long past gone by.
The old and new buildings all grand standing,
Poets and artists, musicians and actors all passing through,
This piece of time and felt I as if I am facing them all.
The Golden gate bridge facing Alcatraz,
The Bay bridge filled all the time,
The rich, poor and the always surprised middle class,
All walk through the beauty in the American west.
In the depths of this natural and man made beauty,
In my view the beauty perfected only with the beauty of a girl,
In through the city to find her I wandered,
The elusive girl that leaves an imperfection,
Upon this beauty of the pacific shore.
Oh’ my wild poetry like wild horses ran,
And came a colleague to learn my wilder rides,
“May be an American is not the one who can perfect,
The imperfection you see all around,
Look around the Russian hill you may find,
Russians never made anything perfect,
Except pretty girls who can perfect,
Any poets imperfect and wilder verse”.
My Russian colleague had his wilder ride on my thoughts,
And together we went around the so called Russian hill,
More beauty man made and natural filled my mind,
But still my mind and soul unsatisfied remained.
And we rested for a late meal around the bay.
Though far away from where we want to be,
The fog faded away showing the bare beauty of the bay,
And I said “Perfect it is oh’ my mind sip in the poetry nature sings”
My friend held my shoulder and turned me around,
Where I found resting the perfection all around the city I found not,
The Russian beauty, the bay in the fog free evening enjoys to the fullest,
Joined by two more eyes of a humble lonelypoet.
Valentina.
Hi. Very interesting perspective. I hope you feel better. Take care 🙂
Great imagery. Seems to pop up pictures every line!
thanks sweet Riaz…for words of encouragement. Valentina is gorgeous. Hope you get plenty of rest, take your medicine and feel better soon. Hugz….
Hey great poem, I haven’t been around in awhile, sorry! But I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate your comments and I thought I’d tell ya that I just added a few more poems to my page so check em out and hit me up when u get a chance! Thanks so much!
Lauren
i hope you feel better ^_^
Hope you feel better soon. I answered the question you asked me in your comment. Beautiful words, my friend. Take care.
±TBR±
Great poem. Something a little different. 🙂 Valentina aye! *wink* She’s gorgeous!
aww she’s gorgious 🙂 who is that? well to you that is…
thanks for the support.
Another pretty picture. Did you take those pictures?
Well, I must say, you’re writing is very awesome, very earnest and real. Anyhow, I hope you’ll visit my site again, I’m always updating.
Ah Riaz…. Valentina is lovely….as is your poem. I hope you get to feeling better soon.
Chris
Yeah, I got a lot of crap running through my mind right now….lots of stuff…
When I say Wo0o Ho0o I have nothing to say…
-Sydnie
Wow, i really like your poetry so much. Your lines are so vivid that i feel like i am actually there. I can really sense your heart through these lines. Your poetry is really mature, and balanced.
Whose that girl??
-Emily
you are so kind! 🙂 and this poem is fantastic. . .i love the bay area and have fond memories of some crazy mishaps in the tenderloin a couple of years ago. . .thank you for sharing your work…it made my day!
Beautiful poem & very beautiful Valentina!
that poem is lovely.
about my sisters music, the second song, “to fly” was recorded about five years ago so that’s why it is different sounding.
🙂 yes, I knew that about the name when I chose it as my screen name. It’s to remind me to allow myself and the world to take the better path. Taoism sort of thing.
I had the privilege of visiting San Francisco over new years. This was a beautiful reminder of a wonderful experience. You capture the city so well. Thank you.
So many comments.
I went to SF once, killer Chines food, and the fire hydrants are pink. You know Beverly Hills actually has a lot of Russian restaurants, well not a lot but more then other places.
Thanks for your comment, L.P. Hope you are feeling better — am currently on a trip and have limited time to post, back soon! Take care of yourself! (Great poem, as usual!!) Lah
Beautiful lines…
-Gia:)
haha it was hilarious. we used a digital camera, and my dad had to figure out how to get it from the camera to a video. you have a great weekend too. =]
<3 amelia
oh and great poem. it was so…truthful. it told the story of a big city.
amelia
Yea we usually do, I am in such a great mood for some weird reason, the only reason its weird is because, I, bot long ago, found out I have acute bronchitis…. But I cant wait my B-day is this weekend!!!
-Sydnie
Yea I cant wait… Well I gotta go pick up my medicine, And I keep my spirits as High as they
shall ever go… WHat do you think of my poem, I thinkn it sux…
The New, becoming routine…
Everyday a new addiction,
A new thought,
A new expierience…
But as you get older do these new things end?
Don’t they become the same,
A routine of all things?
A life left to repeat its self…
The forgotten,
the longed for spontaneous life,
Of surprises.
-Sydnie
I always like how you take a day in life and compose it into something so grand. this poem is no different! italian beauty at the end crisp picture and bright colours. nice setting near the water.