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Literature Text
From where poets weep
In trembling shadows
Of decaying Joshua trees,
They watch the marigolds of Nuevo Laredo
Swaying and swaying
In the blind winds,
Searching the red planes
Without eyelids.
In Fresnillo,
Mothers follow the sweep
Of hanged girl's feet
As they trace youth’s cold sleep
Like gruesome pendulums.
And all along the butchered frontier,
The lands swell up with fresh bruises
As though the Earth herself had been beaten
And medicates her wounds with little graves.
And yet poets plow on,
Writing and weeping for peace and rest;
Knowing still that mortal words
Have never returned
Nor will ever
Bring back to life the dust.
Those girlish marigolds,
Stretched out without memories,
Listen to our prayers,
Their golden petals going black
Under the blade of the sun,
And like the night lizards
They soon go deaf,
Asleep beneath the cool of white stones.
In trembling shadows
Of decaying Joshua trees,
They watch the marigolds of Nuevo Laredo
Swaying and swaying
In the blind winds,
Searching the red planes
Without eyelids.
In Fresnillo,
Mothers follow the sweep
Of hanged girl's feet
As they trace youth’s cold sleep
Like gruesome pendulums.
And all along the butchered frontier,
The lands swell up with fresh bruises
As though the Earth herself had been beaten
And medicates her wounds with little graves.
And yet poets plow on,
Writing and weeping for peace and rest;
Knowing still that mortal words
Have never returned
Nor will ever
Bring back to life the dust.
Those girlish marigolds,
Stretched out without memories,
Listen to our prayers,
Their golden petals going black
Under the blade of the sun,
And like the night lizards
They soon go deaf,
Asleep beneath the cool of white stones.
Literature
Gathering
(a Sonnet)
He fills both hair and arms to glory her
With all the flowers lavender and blue.
Draws scent to waiting nostrils blossoms' stir
That seems to match the tremor of their hue.
He shakes the dewdrops all until they're gone,
To rain upon her eyes and lips between.
She so adores the muted light of dawn
That keeps the colors of her buds pristine.
The other colors of this pallet bring
A daisy wheel of yellow, red and peach,
To give to her a rainbow arc of spring,
And give to him her love within his reach;
In future parting seasons, colors fade,
Their scent, however, never dies away.
Literature
after Orlando
as with all borrowed things,
we must leave this world better
than when we came into it -
so do it.
make your peace.
reclaim safety.
what it means to unmake
the needing of courage.
find your garden song
and call into being
the world of happy tomorrows,
where there are pancakes all the morning
and Manila cabs will take you
even if it rains;
where girls can walk home
alone at night and
no really means no;
where there is bread and honey
enough to fill
every cracked and dusty palm,
and there is poetry
enough to fill
every acre of every heart;
where we find all the lost things,
where skin is skin
and love is love
and when you look up and out
t
Literature
Never Fades - Poem
Struck still
Flames ignite
Icy chill
Dark - cast out by light
A fire burns
And shadows fall
When will you return?
Oh, where have you gone?
Ablaze in the midst of midnight air
Yet the wind blows cold
When you aren't here
I set the flame upon the wick
And as I look out
My lamp is lit
Like a habit I hopelessly pretend
This is the day you'll be back again
The warmth I spark dies with each passing day...
But your memory... No... That never fades
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Marigolds are the symbolic flowers of El Dia de Los Muertos.
This poem is inspired by a protest put forth by Mexican poets
Against the violent murders of countless people, including
Young girls, by Los Zetas and the Sinaloa Cartel.
This poem is inspired by a protest put forth by Mexican poets
Against the violent murders of countless people, including
Young girls, by Los Zetas and the Sinaloa Cartel.
© 2016 - 2024 Frank-Jaspers
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So pretty yet equally painful 