Plaza
By Parson Thru
- 2626 reads
Sitting in the plaza at a quarter past nine
A people kaleidoscope
Suffused with chinchón
I love it
The blue and white buses creep up to the lights
Sound of conversation and passing traffic
It’s how a city is meant to be
- Terrazas and evening sun
- Alcohol
- Modernity
When I die,
as I will
Transport my spiritual remains aquí
What more could a poor bastard ask?
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Comments
Isn't it a great feeling when
Isn't it a great feeling when you find your special place, where simple pleasure is discovered and just for a moment nothing can bring you down.
Sounds like you found yours.
Jenny.
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Your work always reminds me of my days in the Canaries and
Alicante. You make me, nostálgico.
You paint a great picture with those words!
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"I love it"
"I love it"
your poem holds this as its essence, it's so pared down like your feeling was transported out of you without any interference, there's a pure joy in here. Like Jenny, I've known this too, where you feel a huge strength and rightness of belonging, but also the sadness that the wheel turns
Duolingo sessions paying off as I know what aqui means :0)
it's a beautiful poem, thankyou for posting. I get carried away with trying to make things sound right and forget integrity, of which you are a master
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It's a lovely feeling, isn't
It's a lovely feeling, isn't it? I've learned, of late, to slow my pace and appreciate what's in front of me. Loved this.
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