Spanish Eyes Poem by Kevin Patrick

Seville in 43”, was a Bethlam celebration
To a great welcoming of a golden jubulation
Born was the saint of passion, of teenage
For in her haunted image cast the prayers for my Madonna

On Burning July day, the sun converted gold From limestone in the cliffs, and the sediments of the road As a present to the Roma Girl, a seraphim crested wonder And haunt me with her reflection, as frightening as thunder


Spanish Eyes, Spanish Eyes your living art stole my mind With your dark incandescence and sacred chalice eminence
Casts a portrait of divinity to be emblazed for all eternity

Hypnotizing vampire, that's what I took and understood
But I saw you as a girl, broken painfully to womanhood Awaken to lusts cancer, by the works of Marquis de Sade
Though where you lived I understand even love was fair trade But this was counterfeit, to your to your espionage nature As a love starved women, seeking comfort from the torture Of a mutilating world, that severely cuts the pure of good
(But I love you for the wounds you marinate onto my body)


Spanish Eyes, Spanish Eyes, sting me hard with acacia arrows Everything’s a vapor cloud, and your impression becomes narrow Raven locks I wish to touch, and make them swirl around my face

A lonely Lisbon Highway, was where you had your final role
Denying you the magnitude, to be cinemas Cleopatra mole
But in your fall, it raised you higher, above the evening star
Higher than the seven sisters, or Andromeda’s immortal crowd

For common fools look for angels under the spotlight of blind fame
The real sensational women can do without an entourage in her name
Forever my sovereign queen, my faraway Spanish eyes.