Bzzz

Little black bugs
buzzing through the traffic
shiny round heads
and feelers

Trying not to get squashed

Perhaps a little too confident
in their ability to outwit

I'm not here

its me
but i'm not here
i'm a figment of your imagination

if you want
you will find me
out where the eleflowers grow

but then
i may not be there
i may just be jumping in moon puddles

over there
frozen in time
by the icy fingers of the sun

Tint ©

This poem was first posted on Yahoo 360º, quite a while before the move to Multiply. At the time, I was actually looking for a way to tell my friends that I was feeling low. Strangely, writing the poem pulled me out of that. Ah the power of words... at least, words that make no sense whatsoever : )

Eu não sou eu

"Eu não sou eu nem sou o outro,
Sou qualquer coisa de intermédio.
Pilar da ponte de tédio
Que vai de mim para o Outro."

 ~ Mario de Sá Carneiro

I am not me, nor am I another,
I'm something in between.
Pillar on the bridge of tedium
That goes from me to Another.

This poem is on the wall at Metro Paraíso in São Paulo. It just caught my fancy as I passed. Through the gap in the wall, you can see my metro arriving... which I then had to run to catch.

Unfinished

I found the poem!



caught and jailed
my crime was existing
i was to teach the world a lesson
no one was prepared to learn

children screech
and point their fingers
they say i am ugly
in my world, i was attractive

my wings
made for flying in
open blue skies are weak
from lack of use

this prison is small
my sentence unfinished
here i will end my days
watching children point

© tint~

Cut

a brutal cut
left wounded and bleeding
blood red life-blood flows and congeals
no one knows his name
his arm lost in the name of progress
making way for city expansion
Did he cry in pain?
ancient in wisdom
he stands tall
growing stronger every day

a brutal cut
wounded and weeping
tears flow and dry on her face
no one knows her name
her dream ruthlessly brushed off
it didn't matter to them
She fell. She cried.
drawing on hope from deep within
she stands tall
growing stronger every day

A note on the tree in the first stanza:

The tree I saw walking through the neighbourhood is a tipuana. When cut, its sap is a blood red. It's not hard to think of the pain of the cut when seeing that 'blood'. This tree is a majestic example of how man and nature integrates. It's limbs had been cut to make way for overhead wires. The tree itself was so old, I couldn't put my arms around its base. It was covered in tree orchid foliage. Thanks to Jurgis for finally identifying the tree for me. No one around the tree, including the gardeners, knew what tree it was; thus my comment on no one knowing his name. Some day, I'll go back there with the camera. There are so few photos of this tree online.

Some photos I found:





To get the full effect (this image is huge, albeit somewhat fuzzy) - http://bit.ly/c8b0mf You can see the tree orchid on the bark in this photo.