Política de Personal

Para ver la versión original en inglés, haga click aquí.

Política de Personal

La soga es puesta alrededor de mi cuello,
Y se establece el plazo de informe.
Si trabajo duro y el tiempo suficiente puedo saltar
Lejos de los bonos de endurecimiento que
Suponen una amenaza para mí y mi familia.
Pero los costos reales son la pérdida de tiempo
Con la gente que quiero y la necesidad de estar cerca.
Sólo mi empleador tiene mucho que ganar.
Durante un tiempo, hasta que la cuerda de pelos de inicio
A hacer cosquillas en exceso y cuelgo.

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Personnel Policy

The noose is put around my neck,
And the report deadline is set.
If I work hard and long enough I can slip
Away from the tightening bonds that
Pose a threat to me and my family.
But the real costs are the loss of time
With the ones I love and need to be near.
Only my employer stands to gain.
For a while, until the rope hairs start
To tickle too much and I hang.

To read this poem in Spanish, click here.

Who is Elias Tobias? Go to his biography that is also in Spanish.   

Ghosts

The clouds gather in the east as the sun sets in the west,
And a slight breeze rocks an old weathered rocking
Chair on the porch of a large log cabin.
Trees, which could tell stories of the past, surround the
Century-old structure.
A fish jumps in a nearby lake and it’s splash
Ripples across the crisp autumn air.
Apparitions visit the empty home as a kerosene lamp
Mysteriously illuminates the interior of the living room
The sounds of dry wood crackle in the crude ash-filled
Stone fireplace while no flame glows.
Footsteps creak on the wide porch as a screen door
Squeaks due to years of rust and bad maintenance.
A tiny voice cries in the night inside a small adjacent
Room and an old-fashioned cradle keeps the rhythm of
The rocking chair on the porch.
A pane-less window in the room stays open, no matter how
Many times a person would try to close it.
By daybreak, the sun light streaks through the window,
And the coals in the fireplace are still warm.

To read this poem in French, click here.

 Do you have a start of a poem, but the words just aren’t right? Go for help at the Poetry First Aid.  

Fantômes

Fantômes

Les nuages se rassemblent dans l’est comme le soleil se couche à l’ouest,
Et une légère brise roches altérées un vieux rocking
Chaise sur le porche d’une grande cabane en bois rond.
Arbres, ce qui pourrait raconter des histoires du passé, entourent le
Siècle, ancienne structure.
Un poisson saute dans un lac tout proche et c’est Splash
Se propagent à l’air d’automne croustillant.
Apparitions visiter la maison vide comme une lampe à pétrole
Mystérieusement illumine l’intérieur de la salle de séjour
Les sons du crépitement du bois sec dans les cendres brutes-remplie
La cheminée en pierre alors qu’aucune flamme s’allume.
Pas à Pas crier sur le porche large comme un écran de porte
Due à des années de la rouille et le mauvais entretien couine.
Une petite voix crie dans la nuit intérieure adjacente à un petit
Salle et un berceau de l’ancienne garde le rythme de
La chaise berçante sur le perron.
Un volet moins-fenêtre de la salle reste ouverte, peu importe comment
Plusieurs fois, une personne qui tenterait de le fermer.
Au point du jour, les rais de soleil la lumière à travers la fenêtre,
Et les braises dans la cheminée sont encore chaudes.

Pour lire ce poème en anglais, cliquez ici.

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The man she never knew

Instead of another trick that night,
The man was an enigma that shined bright.
She knew in her heart she had to let him go,
Or the relationship was destined to grow.
He was the man she never knew.

It all started with a long look, then a wink.
She soon was offered another drink
In this friendly crowded inner city bar.
A little conversation brought her to his car.
They found a room and started to kiss,
Then she had visions of wedding bliss.

Instead of another trick that night,
The man was an enigma that shined bright
She knew in her heart she had to let him go,
Or the relationship was destined to grow.
He was the man she never knew.

All this happened several years ago
When the man went to a strip-tease show.
He came back from the trip to his wife
And with his two kids, went on with life.
The woman left behind has been changed,
For her heart grew in emotional range.

Instead of another trick that night,
The man was an enigma that shined bright
She knew in her heart she had to let him go,
Or the relationship was destined to grow.
He was the man she never knew.

The woman involved in the emotional affair
Tried to go on as she really didn’t care,
But in the times when she was all alone,
She wondered if she’d call him on the phone.
Then she stretches on the bed and start to dream
And think about how real his love would seem.

Instead of another trick that night,
The man was an enigma that shined bright
She knew in her heart she had to let him go,
Or the relationship was destined to grow.
He was the man she never knew.
If you have a poetry-related web-site that you would like to promote, then go to the International Poetry Link Exchange. 

Fall 2009 Portfolio 4

Leaves glow in the sun on the corner of Kingswood and 71st Street on a bright October day.

(Photos by Mike Hall)  

The entrance of an apartment complex along 71st Street has a variety of colors in the trees.

Videos on You Tube from the World of Words by Elias Tobias tap into the many faces of the poetry blog. 

Merry Christmas 2009

Elias Tobias and his wife, Patty appreciate the loyal readers of the World of Words by Elias Tobias and welcome the newest readers that come every day.  The three month average for global Internet users is up 200 percent, according to Alexa.com, so that means we are growing.  There is much to come this next year, and there more room to grow.  I hope this next year brings prosperity to all.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Elias Tobias

Christmas Card Poem

May the Christmas Season
bring a reason for peace
on earth as we celebrate
Jesus Christ’s birth.

Photos by Mike Hall converted into brushed paintings are in the ArtBrushed Photo Gallery. Download  art for free.    

Early Morning Storm

Brother Paul Abernathy reflects on a personal incident of his life giving only enough details so that we want more or we can fill in the blanlks from our own lives.

Early Morning Storm

The lightning and the big drops of rain
now take away the steady throbbing pain
I’ve been feeling in my left leg.
I was during an early morning storm like
this that I began to miss you by my side.
The car we were in went off the road,
and we hit a small tree, but it was big
enough to take your life away from me.
It was God’s will the preacher said,
but why am I the one who survived
while you’re dead?
The lightning fills the darkened sky,
thunder booms, and still I wonder why.

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What are we fighting for?

Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?
Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?

When will the wounds stop bleeding?
When will the eyes stop crying?
When will the hearts stop hurting?
When will there be a stop to killing?

Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?
Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?

Some say things are better left unsaid.
Meanwhile more people end up dead.
If they’re not dying, they still see red.
I’ve got questions racing in my head.

Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?
Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?

Emotions can get to the best of us,
And violence gives a great rush,
But we don’t feel the knife’s touch
Until the pain gets to be too much.

Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?
Love, hate, money or war,
What are we fighting for?

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