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My Havana



He followed a dream to Havana, Cuba –
amid communism and embargo.
A beautiful country this Cuba is,
and the women are soft on the eyes.
There are whores, yes,
there are whores aplenty,
but not like the ones in Gomorrah.
I’ve been there before,
and witnessed drag-Queens offering hand jobs.
A sad place this Gomorrah is,
and miserable people are those wanna-be’s.
He owns the streets, those streets the Spaniards trod,
where women break their necks when he goes by.
Eyes, like a lion’s, measured the prospects
zooming in on the most vulnerable.
His feet paint his story deep in concrete Havana.
The rum washed out shame and caution from his steps,
but moderation keeps thoughts in check.
Those rapt minds in Gomorrah
forced tongues to lie regarding the plights of Havana.
This is his city, his Havana;
a place where life is regulated
and the unlikely steer clear of happening.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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Earle Francis Brown Claim this poet

I was born in Montego Bay, Jamaica. I was told that I can write, so I wrote and continues to write. I am currently living in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. I enjoy reading "real" poetry. My favorite books are the Pslams, Proverbs and Songs of Solomon.Poetry is not just vocabulary, and use of metaphors and formats. Don't be tricked. Poetry should speak life. I love a poem that tells a story. The most memorable poems are the ones that tell someone's story. I don't care about ratings; the truth is always hated. People are people where-ever we go. more…

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    "My Havana" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 20 Jan. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/79357/my-havana>.

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