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Best Spanish Poems

Below are the all-time best Spanish poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of spanish poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Green Spanish Eyes - Part 3

Continued from Part 2
Ah Consuela! I’m watching as lightning at midnight in green Spanish eyes Kindles cracks within crystals like flashes from pistols residing inside of the gloom, And it hovers above us betraying a dove as she basks in the blackness of doom. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, distilling despair in her green Spanish eyes, And the bitterness stings like the snap of the strings when a mystical mandolin sighs As the vampire shades suck the life from charades neath the resinous residue skies. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she steps to the ledge with her green Spanish eyes, For the terrace hangs high and she’s thinking to fly and abandon fate’s merry-go-round. At the edge I perceive her and rush to retrieve her - she stumbles, falls far to the ground. Ah Consuela! I’m watching the sparkles a’ spilling from green Spanish eyes. As I peer from the railing, with evening exhaling, I cry out a lover’s lament - There she lies midst the crowd with her spirit unbowed, but her body’s all broken and bent. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she beckons me hither with green Spanish eyes, And I’m slightly amazed being snared in her gaze and a’ swirl in a hurricane way, But the seconds are slipping, my courage is dripping, the moment is bleeding away. Ah Consuela! I’m touching, she weeps tender tears with her green Spanish eyes; As the breezes cease blowing, her essence leaves, flowing, in streams neath the ambient light, And the droplets drip swarming, so silent, yet warming, like rain in a midsummer night. Ah Consuela! I’m holding, and hushed by the hints in her green Spanish eyes, While her whispers are breathing the breaths of the seething electrical skeletal winds, And the words paint the poems that rivers a’ slowin’ reveal where the waterfall ends. Ah Consuela! I’m fading in fires a' flicker in green Spanish eyes, As she plays back the past, she abandons and casts away matters that no longer mend... And she reached out instead, as she lifted her head, and we kissed as she parted, my friend. Ah Consuela! I’m tangled, entombed, trapped in tales of your green Spanish eyes, In forsaken cantinas beyond the arenas where night-time illusions once flowed, For the ash neath my shoulder still throbs as it smoulders some place near the end of the road.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

CANDLE 1st in Spanish then scroll down for english trans

Yo ser‚ para ti.
Toda la vida que me queda la vivir‚ para ti
y cuando el tiempo haya terminado,
morir‚ por ti.
Dir‚ tu nombre
en cada vela que encienda, respirar‚ tu nombre.
Te susurrar‚,
cada oraci¢n que diga ser  siempre parte de ti.

Por toda la eternidad,
y as¡ ha sido y ser  siempre, 
y cuando deje este mundo,
aquello vendr  conmigo
en la luz de una vela.
y de la oscuridad a la luz,

Yo ser‚ para ti.
como una c lida brisa de verano
entre los  rboles para ti.
En el brillo de una vela,
todo lo que he sido o llegue a ser 
por toda la eternidad,
tu ser s parte de todo lo que yo haga siempre.
Yo ser‚ para ti.  

					Traducci¢n: Emilio J. Saavedra M.     CANDLE	
I will be for you.
and when time has run out,
I will die for you.
I will speak your name
I will whisper you,
every prayer I ever say will be part of you.

For eternity,
and forever it has been, and will always be,
and when I leave this world,
it will go with me.
In a candle light
all the world keeps on turning, making day and night,
and from dark to light,
you'll be part of every prayer that ever comes from me.

I will be for you.
Like a cool mountain spring that overflows for you
like a warm summer breeze 
through the trees for you.
In a candle glow,
everything I've ever been or will ever be
for eternity,
you'll be part of everything I ever do.
I will be for you.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Spanish Boots of Spanish Leather

 Alas, soon it will be morns of frost and icy chill
   With its lonesome blues forever:
 But nigh O God is the power and the glory
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

 Somewhere out there breathes my own true love -
   Someone to see through my blether:
 For among the prickly thorns blooms the rose
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

 I've dreamt the dulled dreams of silent sorrow
   And dwelt on its sad end - if ever!
 The shuffle in my step is a long time coming
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

 With acute sense unspoken I've mused on thee
   Buoyed by this portent together:
 If only to find I would walk the farthest mile
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

 I'm off, my beloved, where the four winds blow
   To journey among birds of a feather:
 And girl, wherever I go I know I'll get there
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

 How sweet it is - your shining moist lips on mine,
   Whose heart with mine does tether:
 Come to me, my lovely, before it's too late,
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

 O when my epitaph fades into the darkest night
   And words unsaid are buried nether...
 Hark, call out my name and promise bury me
   In my Spanish boots of Spanish leather

"So take heed, take heed, of the western wind,
   Take heed of the stormy weather":
 Yes, there is something to remember me by -
   My Spanish boots of Spanish leather

         With apologies to Bob Dylan.


I actually had a pair of Spanish boots of Spanish leather.
I loved those boots!

April 1997

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Pienso, quiero y desearia

A veces, quisiera gritar,

Quisiera correr,

Quisiera reir,

Quisiera llorar,

Quisiera morir,

Quisiera iluminación,

Quisiera vivir,

Quisiera escapar,

Quisiera revivir...

A veces, pienso en ustedes,

Pienso en espacio,

Pienso nublado,

Pienso oscurecido,

Pienso esclarecido,

Pienso en transparencia,

Pienso en huesos,

Pienso en naturaleza,

Pienso en actuar,

Pienso en todo...

Desearía volver a amar como antes,

Desearía saber más allá,

Desearía expresar más de lo normal,

Desearía unas manos agarrar,

Desearía en hombros impregnar,

Desearía contigo llorar,

Desearía contigo caminar,

Desearía tus abrazos recibir,

Desearía mi corazón de plata y titanio arreglar,

Desearía mi mente repasar...

Desearía que no me traicionaran,

Desearía con besos y amistad despertar,

Desearía en un paraíso soñar,

Desearía a todos concientizar,

Desearía a todos impresionar,

Desearía construir nuevos horizontes,

Desearía adversidades borrar,

Desearía romper leyes,

Desearía ser libre,

Desearía a todos ayudar,

Aunque me cueste la vida...

Pienso en querer el deseo infinito,

Quiero un amor eterno,

Deseo uno amistad inquebrantable,

Para no morir más...

Details | Spanish Poem | |

The Meaning of Bread and Tortillas

"Mi primo" means my cousin in Spanish.
He calls me his "primita"- little cousin.
This is the story of how mi primo
Taught me about the meaning of bread;
Of the meaning of tortillas...
He and I are exchanging languages 
Over Dairy Queen chicken strips;
I repeat the words he teaches me
Back to him in my all-american 
White girl accent,
Trying to learn how to Salsa 
With a tongue that only knows
How to stumble over the trills
And rapid-fire hot-sauce syllables-
He makes me say them again and
Again until I sound like a distorted 
Calle 13 track on repeat...
Mi primo offers me the bread
That came with his meal;
I ask him why he doesn't want it.
He says he doesn't eat bread;
He is Hispanic; he eats tortillas-
Do I know tortillas?-
He gestures, indicates the 
Flat, full moon-shaped
Circle of a torilla with his hands.
Si, I know tortillas.
What I want to know is-
What the heck do tortillas have to do
With whether you eat bread or not?
So mi primo tells me una historia
About a guy he knows,
20-something and something else...
All his family came from Guatemala;
He was brought up going to a church 
With a pastor that preached sermons
That trilled like heavenly trumpets;
He has skin that was colored warm 
As if he had grown up kissed by 
The sun of his family's homeland;
He knew how to speak English but
His mother tongue was always Spanish-
His cousins were his best friends
Because being "un Guate" means
Knowing the meaning of "la familia"...
He learned at age 21
That he was born in America.
Eagerly, he shed his Hispanicness like
A snake skin that had grown too tight,
Clutching at the revelation of his birthplace
Like a get-out-of-jail free card,
Hides the color of his face behind
The red, white, and blue of his
Irrevocable Americanness... 
He doesn't go to church anymore,
Because American guys don't 
Have time for God;
He buys big, fancy cars he doesn't have 
A prayer of paying off because
American girls are supposed to like
That kind of thing;
He tries not to remember 
The meaning of la familia...
And he always eats bread-
His tongue has suddenly turned
Too American to abide the taste,
The flatness, of las tortillas...
He is the reason that mi primo cannot 
Abide the taste of bread, too thick
With the flavor of betrayed heritage
To sit easy in his stomach...
Mi primo offers me,
His little blonde all-American cousin,
The bread he doesn't want.
I wonder if one day he'll
Mean the word "primita" enough
To offer me a tortilla.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

La Sociedad de Miradas

Camino en sociedad de ignorancia,
Donde palacios son corruptos por efectos de arrogancia;
Pasan por nuestros lados,
Echando el ojo, tratando de disimular;
Donde la conciencia es absentista,
Donde todos dicen ser abstencionistas,
Pero, todos son ambiciosos, consumidos y absorbidos por hipocresía...

Camino en sociedad abolicionista,
Donde abolicionan toda aventura,
Donde la única aventura es abolir la sociedad,
Siendo una sociedad abstraída y egoísta,
Poniendo todo lindo, pero con abusividad escondida,
Siendo una sociedad de imbéciles accionistas,
Mostrando intransigencia acérrima y decisiva,
Pero, todos son perezosos basados en negligencia anarquista...

Camino en sociedad de advertencia,
Donde los reprimidos quedan agrisados,
Donde los rechazados y solitarios quieren valentía,
Donde la paz social va desvaneciendo,
Donde la minoría quiere acracia y amnistía de la sociedad,
Para derrocar la corona trastornada y distorcionada...

Camino en sociedad amorfa,
Donde nos han forzado ansias a través de propaganda alarmista,
Donde existen muchos agiotistas fraudulentos,
Donde propias convicciones son raramente afianzadas y aseguradas,
Donde la autoridad permanece en mordacidad y acrimonia,
Donde los realistas son fastidiados y ajusticiados,
Donde las miradas autoritarias son falsamente alegatorias,
Donde muchos permanecen injustamente en incertidumbre ambigua...

Solo a través de sabios ojos,
Es que existen verdaderas experiencias;
Con mirada fiera,
Con mirada de ira,
Con mirada desamparada,
Con mirada sigilosa,
Con mirada misteriosa;
Con toda mirada real existe vida lúcida y estragos mortíferos...

Camino en sociedad de odio,
Donde toda mirada se vuelve rencorosa,
Camino en sociedad de miradas,
Donde las paredes escuchan y hablan,
Donde las divisiones son provocadas,
Apuñalando nuestras espaldas;
Piensan que es un simple juego de carcajadas,
Pero, todos son hipócritas a través de siniestras miradas,
Que me tratan de dejar en agrafia,
Con el juego de las miradas...

Details | Spanish Poem | |

If I Love You

"If she loves you," they tell you,
"This will be a problem."
I am una niña, a little girl-
And you are too old for me,
Too young to know
What you're doing,
Too careless to be cautious,
Too Hispanic to be safe
In a place so diverse that
Teenage boys
Are always classified by race-
You are too beautiful 
To be resistible.
But I promise not to love you.
I promise not to need you.
I won't kiss you where 
Anyone can see, and I
Won't cry when you leave me-
Yes, I know you will,
I'm not so young as idiocy-
I can be your secret,
As long as you are mine...
And if I write you love poems...
I'll write them in the dark.
I'll recite them to the shadows,
And no one has to know.
You never have to know
I ever lied.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Ode to Mi Corazon

As I pull weeds from cracks in sidewalks
Yout sit on top of thrones made of solid gold
And I pay no mind to the women around me,
Only to your beauty do I hold an Ode.

I see my fair Spanish lady
my daring, sweet rose with thorns,
That run up and down her spine.
As she stops in the daily parade
Waving at the peasants,
She looks at me and summons her guards
Too take me away.

Her beauty is unbearable.
I cannot take not being with her
For a single moment in my life.
Her hair,
Black like coal,
In the dawn.
Her lips painted with ruby lipstick,
her silk laced dress and shawl wrap around her,
Like a beautiful butterfly in her cocoon.
Her skin of olive, dark color and her green eyes.
My God, those sweet and piercing green eyes
She is intoxicating and I am intoxicated in her beauty.

As I walk the cracked, cobblestone walkways.
As you blow the dust off her sweet brow,
she glows and sparkles with extordinary excellence.

She is beautiful and sweet and kind.
She loves me, but her father minds.
I am only a peasant, and she royalty.
Can our love ever be together in one holy matrimony?
I pray to the Lord, of all that is good,
Please give me a sign that she loves me.

Soon a storm came over,
blowing me down to the ground
And a cloud of dust swallowed me whole.
A great Conquistador on a great white stallion
I shacked with nervous of joy as I followed the warrior.

She was there, under a palm tree
Near a beautiful beach in Barcelona.
She smiled and a glow covered me with passion.
I hugged her and kissed her upon her sweet lips.
I tasted virginity and she tasted loyalty.
We both tasted beauty and harmony.
As the warrior left us,
We made love upon a vigin white sheet,
Soon covered with a flowing river of red.
She moaned with exticy and love was in the air.
The Ode to my sweet Spaniad, Mi Corazon!

We lay there in each others arms
Looking up at a clear night sky
The twilight glimmered ever so softly
And a shooting star blazed across the sky
I kissed her and she kissed me.
I whispered in her, "My love forever"
And she pushed me back upon the sheets
and we made sweet and ever lasting love again.
As we looked in each other's almond colored eyes.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Para Mi Familia Y Amistades

Para Mi Familia Y Amistades Si ustedes estan aqui sentados, escuchando estas Palabras es porque yo ya no soy de este mundo. Yo todavia estoy aqui pero ustedes no me pueden ver. A ustedes mis hijos - quiero decirles que siempre los ame mucho con todo mi corazon. Yo nunca tuve riquesas en este mundo. Mi mas grande Tesoro fue haber los tenido a ustedes, fueron el Tesoro que Dios me mando. Yo los cuide lo major que pude. Dejen que Dios conforte sus almas y limpie sus lagrimas. Despuez sigan sus vidas y el tiempo curara su dolor. Ahora yo tengo que emprender una jornada, pero tengo que hacerla sola/solo. Por favor no lloren por mi. No he muerto, estoy empezando una vida nueva. Traten de vivir una vida recta y buena. Mantenganse siempre cerca de Jesus y asi estaran cerca de Dios. Pronto nos volveremos a ver. Cuando ustedes suban las escaleras de oro - sere yo quien los encuentre alli. A mi familia y amistades les quiero decir - gracias por los anos y tiempos que pasamos juntos. Por los tiempos que reimos y los tiempos que lloramos. Como ustedes saben - todo llega a su fin. Ahora yo les dejo aqui mi ultimo adios. Desde Arriba yo le pedire a Jesus nuestro Senor que los bendiga a todos y cada uno de ustede. Adios...
08/19/2014 By Lucilla M. Carrillo

Details | Spanish Poem | |

May the Love of Jesus Touch You

May the Love of Jesus Touch You!

May the love of Jesus bless and touch you!
May his presence be with
 and uplift you!

May the joys of the love make
 you complete!
And touch you, from your
 head to your feet!

May the glory of the lord
 be with and keep you!
His majestic power can really touch you!

May the words that he’s spoken,
touch your spirit!
His mercy and salvation… 
 He freely give it!

May the sweetness of Jesus,
 into your life bring!
His righteousness and beauty!  
Your everything!

May you take some time
 with Jesus in prayer?
How much he loves you! 
 How much he cares!

By Jim Pemberton    07.28.13

Details | Spanish Poem | |

A Spanish Shadorma


Details | Spanish Poem | |

Taco Shells

Taco shells are made of yellow corn meal. They are tasty and crunchy, and usually a good deal. You can stuff them with ground beef, chicken, or even fish. Fill them up with plenty of whatever you wish. Tacos are something folks north of the Rio Grande adore. However, they break too easily and spill their contents on the floor.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

My Spanish Guitar

Oh My Spanish Guitar  
Let me forget all my pain
Let me listen to your meldoy 
Day or night I wouldn't complain

Let me follow your rhyme
Smile with my closed eyes
Let me dance even if it rains
My feelings with your music always rise

Oh My Spanish Guitar
My fingers wants to feel you so bad
My eyes want to fall a sleep
Just by holding you in my hand

Let me gently attack your frets
With tendency let me play with your chords
Let the string buzz like a happy bee
Let the heart feel the fretboard

Oh My Spanish Guitar
you decide what you want to do
I could die and you are in my arms tonight
I could chill till life time with you

Details | Spanish Poem | |


One. Latino boys like Buffalo Wild Wings. It isn't clear why, but it's definitely emerging as a pattern.

Two. Latino boys are persistent. When he asks to kiss you for the first time, say no. Why? Because you've known him for a matter of weeks and he is not your boyfriend yet. Don't worry... he will continue to ask every week until you say yes.

Three. Latino boys are really good kissers.

Four. Latino boys love their family. His cousins are best friends, so you probably already know several of them. If any of his cousins also like you, you might think this is problematic. Your boyfriend will tell you that it's normal, and it's just because they're jealous, and not to worry about it. You will probably worry about it anyway. Sometimes it's better to let things go.

Five. Latino boys are romantic. He will tell you how he loves you in two languages and struggle to find an apt metaphor which he can pronounce in the English language. Since his English isn't perfect, he uses his hands to compensate when he speaks,  uses a tilt of his head, a shift in his voice; he says most with his eyes, when he isn't speaking at all.

Six. Notice how he lights up when he smiles at you, like the sunrise... remember that the word for smile in Spanish is sonrisa.

Seven. When he offers to teach you the meringue, say yes. When you trip over each other's feet, laugh. When his face moves close to yours... kiss him.

Eight. When your racist father starts talking about socioeconomic classes, remind him that unlike your brother's American friends, your friends are sober. (Well, more sober. Do not bring up tequila. They're not potheads, at least.) Besides, your Spanish teacher is thrilled with your miraculous improvement in spoken Spanish.


Ten. "Te amo" is a phrase that sounds prettiest when whispered.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Sociedad Aquebrantada

Esta sociedad ciega esta en crisis,

Es la causante de la corrució caótica,

Solo viven de la intención inseguros,

Sin saber qué es la determinación,

Dejándose llevar por una doctrina quebrantada...


La sociedad solo vive por vivir,

No dejando legados,

Sino dejando marcas.

Por eso, la sociedad aclama saber,

Pero en realidad no saben nada,

En comparación a los reales sabios...


Pero, la sociedad rechaza,

La sociedad reprime,

Y la sociedad restringew a los sabios,

A veces por envidia,

Ya que están cegados por ambición y pendejadas...


La sociedad rechaza el ideal de los sabios,

Pero dejan a tontos e imbéciles libres al mundo;

A éstos les encanta vidajenear,

Por solo romper privacidad...


Solo pocos aprecian la amistad y el amor;

Otros se limitan a sí mismos y se ciegan;

Luego, se transmutan a incrédulos ambiciosos,

Sin propia convicción...


Por eso, muchos ambiciosos y mentirosos,

Recurren a la religión, en últimos instantes;

Pero, en últimos instantes es que éstos,

Mueren en propia cobardía e hipócrita sanidad...


No existe tal cosa como perfección,

Solo existe la compleja simpleza o la simple complejidad;

Pero, nada es imposible,

Ya que no hay límites en la posibilidad...


Por eso, no todos los que aventuran se pierden;

No todos los que exigen, aplican lo exigido;

No todos los que miran, observan;

No todos los que oyen, escuchan;

No todo el que hiere, merece;

No todas las heridas, sanan;

No todos los que inhalan, respiran;

No toda sonrisa es feliz;

No toda boca, habla;

No toda sangre y lágrima es en vano;

No toda mente y corazón son puros e inocentes;

No todos los que actuan, piensan;

No todos los que piensan, analizan;

No todo el que analiza, siente;

No toda alma es neutral y digna;

No todo el que existe, vive;

Y no todo el que vive, sobrevive...

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Miss Spanish Moss Maiden

Cascading ebony curls,
weave her lean oak body,
Gothic vines scatter mustard buds,
clothing her Sultan figure,
Fingers  and appendages tangle in this mesh,
Droop against her sleekness,
Attemp to shun day`s life.
Underneath, bats perch dormant,
Spiders playfully weave,
Snakes await lunch,
Hypnotic Miss Spanish Moss Maiden.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

A Spanish Sun

Saffron light dipped and angled down 
the stairwell of an abandoned train station 
in such a way that one might think 
God put Picasso in charge of painting 
the sun-baked afternoon. 
The amber hue on earth 
was a sharp contrast 
to his Blue Period sky. 

Details | Spanish Poem | |


Es bonita. La agua...
		Ho, si. Es muy bonita. Como tu.
Eres loco... Quieres nadar?
		Ahorita? Hace frio!
No hace frio... no mucho...
		Si, hace frio. En el verano,
		Entonces podemos nadar.
Ho... ok. Que piensas?
		Nada. En ti. Y tu? Que piensas?
Mm... que eres un buen amigo.
Y... que amor es malo.
		Por que dices eso?
		Por que dices que 
		Amor es malo?
Es la verdad.
		Amor es bueno.
		Por que?
Amor es malo. Ya lo se.
		No, es bueno. Es perfecto.
Como puedes decir eso?
		Dios. Porque Dios es bueno,
		Y Dios es amor...
		La problema es con las personas.
		A veces las personas son malos...
		Pero amor es bueno.
Pienso que eres bueno.
Si. Claro que si.
		Y amor? Amor es bueno?
Ahorita, no se...
Pero... talvez.

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Green Spanish Eyes - Part 1

Ah Consuela! Invoking vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes, I discern them again where she left me back then, as we kissed when she parted, my friend. So I’m daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I’ll wait till I see her ascend. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes; Her serape entangles her ebony bangles like lace on the sorcerer’s looms, And her capes of the night, she drapes tight to excite, and her fan is embellished with plumes. Ah Consuela! I’m watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes; Taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina performs on the concert hall stage, But she shies from the sound of ovation unbound like a timorous bird in a cage. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes, As the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing, igniting the wild fireflies, And the piccolo piper’s inviting the vipers to coil in the cold caldron skies. Ah Consuela! I’m watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes As I rise from my chair and converge to the stair with a hesitant sip of my wine. Though she doesn’t deny me, she wanders right by me with neither a look nor a sign. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she waves to the stage with her green Spanish eyes, (For her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning of kisses of Judas that sting, With her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating) and smiles at the bluebird that sings. Ah Consuela! I’m watching faint embers a’ stir in her green Spanish eyes, For a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger has captured the rhyme in the room As he slips into sight through the scent of the night and the breath of her heavy perfume. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes - From his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane, to the raven engraved on his vest - For a faraway form, a tempestuous storm, lurks and heaves neath the cleav’e of her breasts. Ah Consuela! I’m watching the caravels cruising her green Spanish eyes; With the castanets clacking upon the deck cracking, he whips ’round his cloak with a whiz And without sacrificing, at mien so enticing, she floats with her face facing his.
Continued in part 2

Details | Spanish Poem | |

Jungvögel (German)/Young Birds (English)/Joven Pájaros (Spanish)

Aus dem Nest im Baum
Hungriger Ruf der Jungvögel
Versteckt im Geäst

Ruf aus der Einsamkeit vom Wald
Der alte Hirsch auf der Lichtung


From the nest in the tree 
Hungry cries of young birds 
Hidden in the branches 

A call from a solitude  forest 
The old deer in the clearing


De  un nido en el árbol 
Llorar de hambre de aves jóvenes 
Escondido en el ramaje

Un grito de  la soledad del bosque 
El vejo ciervo en el claro

Details | Spanish Poem | |

A Spanish Queen

I met a Spanish Queen the other day
With jet black hair and eyes of coal
Her smile glistened in the mornings ray

She was as lovely as a newborn foal
I watched as she took center stage
It felt as thou she looked into my soul

The words she spoke had wisdom like a sage
I hung on ever word she said
No one could ever keep her spirit in a cage

She bows before the king that she has wed
To ask a favor that she knows he won't withhold
For he will bless her until he's someday dead

I hope you like this story that I told
About a Spanish Queen that is quite bold

Details | Spanish Poem | |

A Spanish Autumn

To the rhythm of Spanish castanets 
The tempestuous autumn wind
beat the mosaic of colorful leaves
into a twirling, swirling flamenco dance

©  Brenda V Northeast  rewrite- 24th 2012  - 26/05/08

Details | Spanish Poem | |

The Spanish Inquisition

As most days go, this seems pretty good Doesn't take much to affect my mood Just a simple greeting like “Have a good day” As I show up at the office in the nude The reaction of coworkers sure tickles my fancy With my dangly bits dancing around They try not to stare but it's kind of impossible As my studly maleness astounds When I settle down on my black leather chair I let out a childlike whimper My super warm flesh on the this super cold leather Makes me scream out the name of my vicar The ladies gather round never ever having seen Seventy-eight year old dangly bits I start twisting and turning like a beautiful ballerina Slapping a giddy-up on my hips Well as this day goes it's not necessarily the best Got rid of some of my inhibitions Till the security dudes burst into the office Felt like the Spanish Inquisition © Jack Ellison 2014

Details | Spanish Poem | |

CANDLE English and then Spanish version

I will be for you.
and when time has run out,
I will die for you.
I will speak your name
I will whisper you,
every prayer I ever say will be part of you.

For eternity,
and forever it has been, and will always be,
and when I leave this world,
it will go with me.
In a candle light
all the world keeps on turning, making day and night,
and from dark to light,
you'll be part of every prayer that ever comes from me.

I will be for you.
Like a cool mountain spring that overflows for you
like a warm summer breeze 
through the trees for you.
In a candle glow,
everything I've ever been or will ever be
for eternity,
you'll be part of everything I ever do.
I will be for you.
© ron wilson the Doylestown Poet


Yo ser‚ para ti.
Toda la vida que me queda la vivir‚ para ti
y cuando el tiempo haya terminado,
morir‚ por ti.
Dir‚ tu nombre
en cada vela que encienda, respirar‚ tu nombre.
Te susurrar‚,
cada oraci¢n que diga ser  siempre parte de ti.

Por toda la eternidad,
y as¡ ha sido y ser  siempre, 
y cuando deje este mundo,
aquello vendr  conmigo
en la luz de una vela.
y de la oscuridad a la luz,

Yo ser‚ para ti.
como una c lida brisa de verano
entre los  rboles para ti.
En el brillo de una vela,
todo lo que he sido o llegue a ser 
por toda la eternidad,
tu ser s parte de todo lo que yo haga siempre.
Yo ser‚ para ti. 
© ron wilson the Doylestown Poet

Details | Spanish Poem | |


He turns me into
A wide-eyed little child
And he is my favorite game-
It goes like; he holds me close,
His fingers in my hair...
His breath is steady, matches mine,
His heart beats in my ear...
Now if I stroke his skin
With my fingertips, will the 
Beat of his heart quicken?
If I press myself more closely
To him, will the warmth
Of his skin rise?
If I trace the outline
Of his lips, will he murmer