Poetry Collection
Poetry Collection
Big Mike
I’m big and strong
I like to run instead of walking.
My friends call me big
Big Mike when I walk
I get tired.
I’m boob Mikes brother
I’m The opposite of mike
I’m small and I like to walk
Walking is what I do.
Soccer Ball
A stitched, paneled sphere of light
That dances through the air in full flight
From dusty streets to verdant fields
The most coveted prize one can behold
A sudden strike, a dull thud
Amidst torrential rain and splattering mud
It spins against the nylon net
The most beautiful goal they have ever witnessed
The whistle blows, the game ends
But it still awaits the morning sun.
Nature
The morning mist begins to fade,
Above the quiet leafy glade.
The robins wake and start to sing,
Upon a branch where blossoms cling.
The world is wide and bright and still
Upon the crest of every hill.
A gentle wind begins to blow,
Where tangled roots and grasses grow.
In every field and forest floor,
There’s always something to adore.
Cultural Food
The scent of pão de queijo fills the air,
A golden snack beyond all rich compare.
The feijoada simmers, dark and deep,
While flavors of the coast and forest leap.
From moqueca pots with palm oil's glow,
To where the street-side acarajés grow.
A spoonful of brigadeiro, thick and sweet,
Makes every festive moment feel complete.
With guaraná to toast the vibrant day,
The soul of Brazil leads the hungry way.
The Beauty
Rio’s granite peaks gaze upon the blue tide of the Atlantic,
Where Christ the Redeemer rises with open arms.
The vast silhouette of São Paulo stretches out, gray and deep,
A city of business that refuses to sleep.
In Brasília, the curves of the future take flight,
With marble and arches gleaming golden in the light.
Salvador pulses to the sound of a deep, rhythmic drum,
Where history, colors, and Carnival converge.
From the heat of Manaus to the windswept beaches of the South,
Brazil’s vibrant spirit leaves you longing for much more.
Flowers
The vibrant bloom of the Ipê tree
A golden crown for all to see.
The Orchid hides in shaded leaves
Where the humid forest breathes.
Along the coast the Hibiscus glows
Where the salty Atlantic breeze blows.
The Victoria Amazonica floats with pride
On the dark and ancient river tide.
From the bustling street to the forest floor
Brazil’s wild colors offer so much more.
Carnaval
The rhythm of the samba begins to pulse,
As dancers flood the glittering crowded street.
A sea of sequins, plumes, and gleaming gold
Tells ancestral tales vibrant and bold.
The Sambadrome erupts in a roar of joy
As immense floats glide along the runway.
From the hills of Rio to the beating heart of Bahia,
Life transforms into a work of art.
The city breathes with a pulse of pure ecstasy
Beneath the magic of the tropical night.
The Music
The heartbeat echoes in a surdo's thrum
As fingers dance across the pandeiro drum.
From the gentle sway of a Bossa Nova breeze
To the frantic energy of Frevo with ease.
In every corner the Berimbau will sing
While voices rise and Cavaquinho rings.
A fusion of cultures a rhythmic embrace
Found in the soul of every vibrant space.
From the quiet street to the grand parade,
Brazil’s rich melody will never fade.
Animals
The Jaguar stalks through the Pantanal's light
A ghost of gold in the shadows of night.
High in the canopy, the Toucan calls
Where the mist of the hidden waterfall falls.
The Capybara rests by the river's wide bend
While Macaws in the sky like jewels ascend.
The Pink Dolphin swims through the Amazon’s heart
As the forest's deep secrets and mysteries start.
From the tiny Marmoset to the great Harpy Eagle
The wildlife of Brazil is both wild and regal.
Inspirience
The rhythm of the samba starts to rise,
Beneath the gaze of vast and azure skies.
From Christ the Redeemer’s open, stone embrace,
To emerald wilds where ancient rivers trace.
Golden sands where the Atlantic meets the shore,
A pulse of life that leaves you wanting more.
The scent of coffee, fruit, and humid rain,
A vibrant joy that masks a hidden pain.
A kaleidoscope of culture, bold and bright,
Brazil remains a long, enchanted night.
Golden Days
The clock ticks on a steady, rusted gear,
Collecting moments like a shore traps sand.
We spend our youth chasing a distant year,
With maps of stars we barely understand.
There is a beauty in the tangled briar,
The way the light will bend before it breaks;
We are the fuel, the furnace, and the fire,
A sum of all our triumphs and mistakes combines.
Then evening falls, the shadows stretch out long,
And leave behind the echo of a song,
Poetry Collection written by Alvines Ismael