European born actress/writer Masiela Lusha portrayed ‘Carmen Lopez’ for five seasons as George Lopez’s rebellious and passionate daughter on the syndicated ABC series, “George Lopez”. Raised in Tirana, Albania; Budapest, Hungary; and Vienna, Austria, Masiela settled with her mother in Michigan at the age of seven. English is her fourth language.
Masiela has been named “The Youngest Author in the World” to publish a book in two languages. She designed the cover herself at the age of twelve, and was also named as one of “The Best Top Ten Talented Poets for North America, ” for her first book “Inner Thoughts.” She views writing as an expression of herself where she can “create secret... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Masiela Lusha Poems
Call Us Women
All you men... What lies in your fists? In your eyes,
A Man of Forty
A man of forty. Forty years the child. His eyes don't see me but his mother. His past. And like a child he wanders Clean through the tunnels of his time.
A Translation of Mother Theresa's poem, ...
A Translation of Mother Theresa’s 'Jeta' Life
The Polite Sea
By the polite sea I rest, Engaging in attention And words. By the sea I lay, by the sea I pray,
Drinking the Moon
I have planned and dreamt of this trophy of gold, The halo of silver, around in which it molds. I have cradles this idea and nursed it to true plan, I have fed it seeds of confidence, O this is so grand!
Full Moon- A Siren's Song
They blame you for the celebrated madness- For the tearing open of beasts' throats, Releasing demons into the twilight waves of lull.
Night and Tears
Your whisper cannot ride the louder wind... Your frown becomes the night, The owl, high and hidden delights in song And does not meet your broken eyes.
Fruits of Tribute
When mores bind this flesh and spirit Into one man of mortal pride and truth, When two drops of tranquil waters Fill his sight's hollows with tranquil views.
I Dig for Nothing
I dig for nothing tonight. No stars. I cannot find The constant moon. I could write about the moon
I Cannot Love You Honestly
I wish to bend your smiles so as better To ease my truth. I had lost the form of loving When you last battled my love with yours.
The Virgin Statue
The fiery frolic of Venus's omen Released the embers from Pygmalion's heart, Crackling against the statue's abdomen Till her ivory lips broke apart.
A carved stone can reign like a mountain, Only to be meat in natures jaw. But no wind or snow can tumble Into the steel minds of humanity and memory-
On Christmas morning we visit the marked stones, The grass, the pots of fresh Paradise Birds, Magnolias, Christmas trees, And we visit the names.
My Mind's Leopard
I cannot chain you. I shut my eyes, and there you dive Against the backdropp of veined darkness, Roaming in the jungle of my starry mind,
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Call Us Women
All you men...
What lies in your fists?
In your eyes,
Your packs of gods
Offer drops of life,
& we women
& endure it
Until it becomes
A seed of heaven,
Which we fed with our mouth,
Caressed with our blood,
& heard its bubbling songs
Through our skin.
Which lounge gods of Men,
Of changing passion
Can never churn
The weight of a shell
Into a breathing being as powerful
It was bestowed upon us,