Here at the riveron we encouraged our readers a few days ago to send us poems inspired by the sweet-but-sad Kazakh angel Ruslana Korshunova, who might have been victimized by the russian mafia. Since then we´ve recieved lots of poetic contributions inspired by our long-haired blue-vortex muse. Here´s one of our favorites that arrived directly from Belize:
She smiles, she wades into forever
An ethereal swan princess
Graces at last luminous lagoons of cobalt;
Infatuated angels peep from the clouds
To photograph a last glimpse of the sovereign belle
As she walks, and walks,
And no one touches her
The faithful sun is her solace, her bridegroom
Her soft peach skin reads epics with him
Sweet sour saccharine verses, distant reveries,
She held his hand once in Paris, said,
“I love you! Do you?”
And he blushed torrents of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Her silhouette now trails into the reticent night
The enamored moon still tells tales to the angel
Of the statuesque Russian damsel
Who walked with so much perfection
She seemed unreal, mythical
Her beautiful face, a resurrected portrait
Exhumed from a Romantic novelist’s illusion,
A priceless diamond doomed for its greatness.
Her feline eyes seduced the coquettish moonlight
That kissed her long hair with almond ambers.
Her striking fairytale pulchritude,
Immortal face of a goddess, absconds
Slowly turns into a masterpiece of rare porcelain
That now takes away the dazzling incandescence
That once radiated New York’s soul of darkness.
Osmer E. Balam