Abraham de la Torre
Biography of Abraham de la Torre
I celebrated my sixtieth centenary twice. On October 25, at a party thrown by my wonder of a wife, and on the actual day, October 28. Both bashes were made highly successful by the presence of friends who shared our blessings and the attendant bliss.
Abraham de la Torre's Works:
Mostly in anthologies by the International Library of Poetry in Maryland
Abraham de la Torre Poems
Unpremeditated, just a reflexive blink, Was not as startled as the glitter of grime Against the sun-streaked light.
Antoine's torment is shared remembering murder silent without a grave
Our meeting was a secret At the same time never met You heard me sing I heard you talk
How Don'T I Love You
let me shed the hate that ill applies to anger although consummate unluckily discerned by trinity and bred by esoteric tragedies and irregular neglect
There is a place for a candle for my mother's friends.
Bless The Breasts
While they sleep the unmolested Before the nth dilapidated Token, bidden, chosen, broken hymen, stalking semen Men for women
Paean To Pain
We slumber silently. Muting speech and snoring noiselessly. Consciously. Careful not to
You may be the lowliest as long as you ache and your heart longs or the eldest fool for love or from a planet heretofore unknown
They gather Around A blaze Invisible
Tentatively Darkness describes a chill Framed in invisible mist The blur awakening to a whisper
This is the way to roll 'em Break a chip of the brown block (Not necessarily old, although age makes a diff)
A carpenter falls Off his easy rider The shock absorbers Are seconds too
It seemed dawn was summoned by dusk; the dewdrops
Ode To A Youth
It was yesterday - an infinity of joy However finite as the phase - When the truth of the tense Gave birth to another
There is a place
for a candle
for my mother's friends.
To light the rituals
of inductions, vigils, pilgrimages
offerings and first communions
of new finery: