((7) Burning, Burning, Burnt Poem by Luis Gil de la Puente
((7) Burning, Burning, Burnt
Let´s find new chalk
for the spring coming,
burning ideas,
more wood, please.
Let´s make doves fly.
We are lonely
next to the path
to get a sight
of that huge Christ image.
Stern stone gaze
towards that forgotten margin
of the city,
where hard-boiled kids
keep their hearts locked,
pretending to be something
that cannot possibly be.
Is it a blessing those open arms?
The north wind breaks on the hills
and wistles notes hard to swallow
for the pure ears of those
who can´t smile
and throw stones.
Old chalk dust,
Where is the wood?
It is still cold in spring.
Wood keeps burning
but it´s no use.
You are very expert at communicating a message through image, not doctrine. The Objective Correlative, TS Eliot called it - the essence of metaphor.
Once a tall tree then a hard wood burnt into ashes feed the terrain
There is something innocent new and fresh with chalks How clever of you and your mind to think of that...An exellent title..yes more wood please I love your poem You write with such force and passion! With love pia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 5:27:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Thought provoking, touching, tinged with sadness showing the desolation of the contemporary soul. Thank you. - Maria (PS - typo: wistles.... whistles)