San Miguel de Allende Poems – Bev Tappan

Mini-Set at Ellen Schmidt’s Open Mic – 4/19

Bev Tappan — Mon, 29 Apr 2019 17:11:00 +0000

April 29, 2019

Bev’s poetry turned to song – with Izzy Td

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: ANNIVERSARY TRIP

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 23:55:58 +0000

After thirty years of living
Together we have come back
To where time passes less swiftly
And attention is paid to the senses.

Under a Spanish arch
Old friends embrace us.
Street greetings are familial.
Here a hug is not distrusted.

With Mexican chillies we warm
Our mouths, and mango juice
Drips down our fingers.
We sip Salubrious tea of manzanilla.

Minstrels seranade under balconies
Draped with flags of bougainvilla.
Across the street in the cantina
A jukebox plays us to sleep.

Crossing the old courtyard
Of an abandoned chapel fragrant
With luminous cups of gold,
We are not ashamed to hold hands.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: DISPATCHER

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:44:35 +0000

OUR DISPATCHER

At the newly painted station

A small boy attaches himself

To our luggage and ties on tags.

The White Star Line bus will,

He assures us, leave on time.

Meanwhile on the pavement,

With shrill cries he alerts

The passersby to the imminence

Of departure for Mexico City

In fifteen minutes. Sure enough,

He is soon loading our bags

And being reimbursed again.

As the bus pulls out, he

Comes down the aisle with

A basket of tortillas

And writes out tickets for

The four senoritas who heeded

His recent announcements.

With regret, on the outskirts

Of San Miguel, we observe

The young entrepreneur

Taking his leave.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: BOYS

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:33:36 +0000

GOING IN STYLE

The boys in Mexican glassworks

Swing their blowpipes in parabolas

Like gauchos twirling riatas,

Eliciting form from incandescence.

Precise as ballet dancers,

They make their moves at intersecting

Routes, aware but casual,

Nothing between the flesh and the flame.

The boys in Mexican bullrings

Entice the dark charger with magenta capes

Like women flirting with handkerchiefs.

Their suggestive invitations

Invite a close encounter:

Nothing between the hip and the horn,

They dance a tango with destiny,

Teasing entropy into art.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: EL DIA

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:25:15 +0000

EL DIA DE LOS MUERTOS

(THE DAY OF THE DEAD)

The skull is an old preoccupation.

Hamlet spoke to Yorick, and

Pre-Columbian burials yield

These tiny tokens, mementi mori,

And aboriginal poets lamented,

With Ecclesiastes, the briefness of flowers:

They knew that man is born to die.

All their funerary postures –

Bodies flat or flexed, singular or

Communal, came to the same conclusion.

Children today make sugar skulls

For dolls they dress in pastel papers,

White hands protruding from sleeves.

They set out candy for the dead,

Sweet imitations of bread and fruit,

Refreshments for the long journey,

And visit skeletons in the crypts,

Dusty bonnets on infant skulls,

Holding reunions with family bones.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: TOURISTS

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:19:19 +0000

DETACHMENT

Like gods in ancient Greece, tourists

Survey the scene from points of vantage:

They sit on balconies, peer into courtyards,

Photograph wedding parties in archways.

Darker skins and liquid syllables

Charm them, but eyes do not exchange

Signals. They risk nothing. Soon enough,

They will be winging back to Olympus.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: WALLS

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:14:04 +0000

NO TRESPASSING

In San Miguel the walls

Are thick and high and topped

With shards of broken glass:

Translucent, they glint in the sun.

Above us on the hillside,

Ranks of towering cacti

Guard their fruit with poisoned

Darts ready to fire.

Although young boys can climb

The organ pipes, unscratched,

To pick their small berries,

They do not scale the walls.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: THE PARK

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:11:02 +0000

INCONGRUITY

The grackles that chimed like a thousand cuckoos

At six o’clock have retired, but one

Splatters his hand as he sits on the bench

Under the box-shaped tree in the park.

A mariachi band tunes up for a wedding

In the cathedral across the street.

Balloon vendors bounce their punching-bag faces.

Strolling teenagers banter and laugh.

Then an American hard rock group,

The Misguided Youth, begin to check

Their mikes. The woman drums a roll.

He leaves ahead of the opening absurdity.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: BALCONY

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 19:05:20 +0000

TWO VIEWS FROM A BALCONY

(1)

A Thornton Burgess old lady, toad in a shawl,

She leans forward to peel the cactus pears:

Three quick cuts and canvas flaps unfold

From the beet-red fruit, tasteless and seedy.

Church bells clang the quarter hour. Iron

Shoes clink on cobblestones. Unhurried

By smacking stick or placid curse, burros

Shoulder sacks of mesquite from the hills.

(2)

The artists of the Revolution

Painted workers massive across

The back , with Popeye arms and hands.

Carved in stone, their heads were bowed.

This crew constructing reservoirs

On the roof across the street are whistling.

Onto their slender shoulders they lift

The tins of cement as light as ballerinas.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE: BALLET

Bev Tappan — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 18:56:23 +0000

EVENING BALLET

Foot-lighted by fluorescent

Jacarandas more purple than amethysts,

Against a backdrop of sunset

And mountains, the egrets

Perform in black pines:

Backflap for landings, soar

With tightly curled necks, and

Like slim ebony carvings

Balance on tree tops.

Their roof-top audience

Of American writers,

Refueled with creative juices,

Applaud along with yawping nighthawks.