* A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Latest poems | Random poems | Poets | Submit poem

Michael Spring

Guitarra Portuguesa

in the cafe
Carlos Paredes held the Portuguese
guitar – walnut wood – the body
of Lisbon – with twelve strings
his fingers emulated rain

across the room a woman began
dancing –
the fingerpicking and figueto
described her movements –
the underwater sway
of sea grass –
I was submerged

her figure haunted every glass
of water or wine

her shadow drifted through the welter
of candlelight
on the adobe walls

[...] Read more

poem by Michael SpringReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches