Snow White without the Seven Dwarfs
When I die I want to be cremated
It's a cliché, I know
LOVING SMILE - 37
Through seas never before navigated
DAY TRIPPIN'
The crown of the roots
Paradise can wait
Now the Macadam isn't so black and white
Upwards
The structure could be straightforward, stable and…
Strengths System
Looking Out
Today I feel as strong as them
Magnolias fall quickly on hot days
Arraial dos Santos Populares
Shall We Dance?
Arraial de São João, Externato Luso-Britânico
Night at the Backyard
Footpath
Ghosts playing soccer game
Rust
ALL TOGETHER
Once upon a time
Indiscreet Window
Nice weather goes on. Enjoy it!
A nice hot day for everyone
VULNERABILITY STUDY
Another stone in the Wall
MODEST PROPOSALS
Who wants to buy?
The core of the question
The sun that illuminates the lobby of my building
The stewards of the crematorium
The roof of an abstraction orbiting the planet blu…
While clinging plants do not grow we can see the s…
All we need intimate moments
Tablet
LOVING SMILE - 36
Today Colours
O Berço do Espaço
POEM 2
Hotel Dom Gonçalo & SPA
There is always a shark waiting for you
See also...
Group of the Visual Poets (2 photos/day, no invite needed :)
Group of the Visual Poets (2 photos/day, no invite needed :)
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CAT ON THE TRACKS


He wore the night in his fur, sat on a rung
between the rails, tail wisping like smoke
as a distant train split the air along its seam.
Its coming headlight laid down track
and placed an opal into each black seed
of the cat's eyes, every blink slow as an eclipse.
Soon the white light pinned him, the only drop
of night left as vibration turned the rails to mercury.
But there was no give in the cat, no flex anywhere
but his tail. And for a moment their roles reversed,
as though it were the train facing the inevitable cat,
the end of the line. The world lit up like a page
and the train a sentence before the full-stop.
///
UM GATO NA LINHA DO COMBÓIO
O pêlo veste-o de noite, sentado numa travessa
entre carris, a cauda esbate-se como fumo
tal como o distante combóio divide o ar ao longo da sua passagem.
Aproxima-se com o farol apontado à linha
e coloca uma opala em cada semente negra
dos olhos do gato, a piscarem lentos como um eclipse.
Súbito a luz branca foca-o, única gota
perdida na noite como a vibração que torna os carris em mercúrio.
Mas nada acontece ao gato, nenhuma contracção
excepto em sua cauda. E por instantes os papeis invertem-se,
como se o combóio seguisse em frente contra o inevitável gato,
o fim da linha. O mundo ilumina-se como uma página
e o combóio como uma frase antes do ponto-parágrafo.
by Mark PAJAK (commended), in "NATIONAL POETRY COMPETITION", Winners' Anthology 2014, presented by The Poetry Society 2014
(Portuguese translated by Armando TABORDA, 2015)
(photo taken from Internet; edited by Armando TABORDA)
between the rails, tail wisping like smoke
as a distant train split the air along its seam.
Its coming headlight laid down track
and placed an opal into each black seed
of the cat's eyes, every blink slow as an eclipse.
Soon the white light pinned him, the only drop
of night left as vibration turned the rails to mercury.
But there was no give in the cat, no flex anywhere
but his tail. And for a moment their roles reversed,
as though it were the train facing the inevitable cat,
the end of the line. The world lit up like a page
and the train a sentence before the full-stop.
///
UM GATO NA LINHA DO COMBÓIO
O pêlo veste-o de noite, sentado numa travessa
entre carris, a cauda esbate-se como fumo
tal como o distante combóio divide o ar ao longo da sua passagem.
Aproxima-se com o farol apontado à linha
e coloca uma opala em cada semente negra
dos olhos do gato, a piscarem lentos como um eclipse.
Súbito a luz branca foca-o, única gota
perdida na noite como a vibração que torna os carris em mercúrio.
Mas nada acontece ao gato, nenhuma contracção
excepto em sua cauda. E por instantes os papeis invertem-se,
como se o combóio seguisse em frente contra o inevitável gato,
o fim da linha. O mundo ilumina-se como uma página
e o combóio como uma frase antes do ponto-parágrafo.
by Mark PAJAK (commended), in "NATIONAL POETRY COMPETITION", Winners' Anthology 2014, presented by The Poetry Society 2014
(Portuguese translated by Armando TABORDA, 2015)
(photo taken from Internet; edited by Armando TABORDA)
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dash across the line into the house
he watched and waited
with his pupils not dilated . . .
patiently listening he did hear
the sound of a train approaching near
should he sit and wait or give up the chase
the mouse was laughing at the cat's face
whiskers twitching and ears so alert
fur bristling ... he wished to asert
his cunning ways but alas to late
missing his chance he has an empty plate
Armando Taborda club has replied to beverleythanks, Bev
Armando Taborda club has replied to Ulrich John clubArmando Taborda club has replied to beverleyArmando Taborda club has replied to .t.a.o.n.Sign-in to write a comment.