A Latin Trio ( Three Poems, December 2016 ) By Randy J. Contents: 1) Havana Flower 2) The Shade Trees of Cuba 3) Francisco Goya Plus: You Never Read My Poetry ( A Playful Poem ) 1) Havana Flower A red and yellow hibiscus Dangles from a window box In the Caribbean evening Of packed narrow streets, And doorways filled with Passing sounds. Voices harmonizing In the setting sun. Squinting through cracks, Peeled painted fortresses In old Havana. Where poets in their Hemingway beards And aftershaves, Listen for a bell toll. Puffing legendary cigars, Gathering at gateways, Of deterioration and rescue In monuments distant. Like cellos singing Into the ancient night. 2) The Shade Trees of Cuba Shade trees Beyond beaches Of white sand and Crystal clear waters. Maybe a Royal Palm Maybe a Cuban Magnolia Swaying to sounds Of African drums And Spanish guitars. The natural beauty Of shade trees. Unique varieties Provocative, Full of contradictions. Full of forbidden fruit. Dancing the salsa Venerated by History and passion. Singing of green interiors Sweet as sugarcane. “Queen of the Night” arias Ripe with nostalgia. Time worn magnificence. Self sufficient revolutions Amid brightly painted American cars of Opulence and intrigue. 3) Francisco Goya ( 19th Century Spanish Painter ) “Painting, like poetry, chooses from universals what is most apposite.” - Francisco Goya “That most Spanish of painters.” With a debt to Velazquez. Apprenticed in Saragossa, Court painter in Madrid. Inventing signatures Painting royal families Amid privileged gazes In disasters of war. Victims of Inquisition, Victims of French occupation. ( The 3rd of May 1808 ) “The sleep of reason Begets monsters.” You saw suffering At hands of the powerful. Wearing embroidered jackets Like those of a matador. Painting self portraits, With adornments of Candle holders in your hat. Creating colors, tapping into The tenure of your time. Waving red flags at giants In moments large and small. Silhouetted by huge windows With a haunting melancholy. Kneeling into darkness To respond eloquently in truth. Plus An Unrelated Poem: You Never Read My Poetry ( A Playful Poem ) You never read my poetry While walking down the stairs Or finding points of interest While combing back your hair. You never read my poetry While looking for the moon Or scrambling for a coffee cup Sometime round about noon. You never read my poetry Even though it’s always there Reflected by a passing star Fastened to your chair.