Sunday, October 30, 2011

A Prayer for Safe Shore


The foam of the ocean surrounds
everything

We are lost in the open sea, looking
for a shoreline to call safety.

We float on the deep and dark
ocean like dust on a palm leaf, we
wander in endless space.

Only our fear, that we do not sleep
forever on the bottom of the sea.

We are without food
or water and our
children and
women lie exhausted
crying, until
they can cry no more

No ship will stop
We float like we do not exist.

Lord Buddha, do you hear
our voices?  From every port we
are pushed out.

Our distress signals rise
and rise again.

How many boats have
perished?

How many families are
buried beneath those waves?

Find us
We are lost in the open sea
looking for a shoreline to call safety.

Vietnamese Monk
Los Angeles

classification:  Social Commentary

After the Vietnam War, many people in Cambodia, Laos, and especially Vietnam became refugees in the late 1970s and 1980s.  Fleeing "re-education camps" and the "Killing Fields" in which it is estimated that 165,000 people died, many came to refugee camps in Malaysia, Thailand, the Philipines, Hong Kong and Indonesia.  Others escaped in boats causing great controversy in their destination ports in Australia, the United States and sometimes other western countries.  Their plight became an international humanitarian crisis.

If you want to get rid of undocumented immigrants, quit eating

title quote from a farmer in Alabama

"Especially strawberries, but especially lettuce, but especially carrots, broccoli, oranges, tomatoes, raspberries, cherries, and cucumbers, but especially onions." Posted by Jill on Facebook


Unintended Immigrants


We left no teeming shore in Europe, hungry and eager to reach the New World.
We crossed no ocean in an overcrowded boat,
impatient and eager to arrive at Ellis Island in New York.
No Statue of Liberty ever greeted our arrival in this country,
and left us with the notion that the land was free,
even though Mexicans and Indians already lived on it.
We did not kill, rape and steal under the pretext of Manifest Destiny
and Westward Expansion.
We did not, in fact, come to the United States at all.
The United States came to us.

Luis Valdez quoted in “Fiesta in Aztlan - Anthology of Chicano Poetry”, edited by Toni Empiringham. Santa Barbara, Calif.: Capra Press

The territory that now comprises the states of New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, Oklahoma, California, Texas, and parts of Arizona and Colorado, were part of New Spain until 1821, when they became part of independent Mexico after the Mexican War of Independence.
After the Mexican American War 1846-1848, the territory was ceded to the USNew Mexico entered the Union in 1912 as its 47th state.  That is to say, Mexican citizens woke up one morning and were in the US!

classification:  Social Commentary

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower,
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost, written in 1932

At first, the topic seems a sad one, that anything at its peak, will eventually pass away.
On further consideration, I wonder if it is not also a call to appreciate something
so fine that it will only last a short time--like the first frost of the year that edges the golden leaves for a few wondrous minutes.

classification:  The Good Earth

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Tableau at Twilight




















I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.

A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.

The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.

Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.

Although my rainment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla

Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I'd rather it melted somewhere else.

Exit child with remains of cone,
I sit in the dusk, I am all alone,

Muttering spells like an angry Druid.
Alone in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.

Ogden Nash



A Promise to My Children

I promise to prize your friendship and the love of your children above
any household item they may (ahem) spoil.

I promise to never present you as
"one of MY (put tally number here) children/grandchildren"
as though you were a notch on my belt,
but rather to treat you as unique and interesting people
with your own stories to tell.

I promise to always love our adorable Nikki, our cholo David,
and Mai (who makes Mark so happy) and anyone else who enters our family circle,
or indeed even touches it.
I will never ask them to "step out of the photo" because it is "just the family"
I intend for our family to also include such dearly loved people
as Sonia, Grandma Maruja, and Jhonathan, on into the eternities.

I promise to never begin a conversation with
"well I am 70 years old" (or whatever)
and suppose that will trump your expertise.
I promise to not stubbornly repeat
some old fact from my college days, but rather
inform myself and ask intelligent questions.

I promise to do my best, to keep in touch, whatever the cost.
To hear of your emergency room visits,
report card brags,
your work events,
And NEVER say "I'm sorry I gotta go to the library now."

I have realized that my dearest wish,
is to hear you tell me about the world;
and to do that you must:
sit on counters,
sideswipe cars,
forget and remember things,
give me a cold,
and lose my tweezers

I realize that sometimes you will
sleep when I am awake,
and be wakeful at late hours of the night.
I promise, on those occasions,
to never sweep out in a queenly snit
and remind you that my sleep is precious.
Because it isn't
at least not in the sense that you are.

Love from your mum
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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

When I Look Back

I planted my little garden too late in the season.  
My tomatoes are trying to ripen in October.
I think it is a metaphor for my life 

When I look back on the fields I've sown,
The weedy prose and the spindling rhyme,
I know what I've always known:
So much to do and so little time.

The seasons lean on my sweated shoulder; 
The year is old and I am older
And now is already yesterday.

I envisioned acres of golden earing.
And ripened fruits of a fertile loam,
But it is fall in my thistled clearing,
And I have nothing for harvest home.

by Gilean Douglas

classifcation:  Inspirational 

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Antonio

I like this poem simply because the sound of the sylables
 tickes me.

Antonio, Antonio
was tired of living alonio.
     He thought he would woo
     Miss Lissamy Lou
Miss Lissamy Lucy Malonio.


Antonio, Antonio
Rode off on his polo-ponio 
     He found the fair maid
     In a bowery shade
A-sitting and knitting alonio.


Antonio, Antonio
Said "If you will be my onio
     I'll love you true
     And I'll buy for you
An icery-creamery conio."


"O nonio, Antonio!
You're far too bleak and bonio!
     And all that I wish,
     You singular fish,
Is that you will quickly begonio."


Antonio, Antonio,
He uttered a dismal moanio,
     Then he ran off and hid
     (Or I'm  told that he did)
In the Antarctical Zonio.

by Laura E Richards
published in "Tirra Lirra" by Little, Brown and Company Boston 1932
Many of the poems in this book are of the same tone as "Antonio"

classification:  Humour

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Loose Leash

I really miss my dogs.
Even the crazy little one.

My leash was loose,
so now I'm off
To see the world,
Out on my own.
Down country roads
And city streets
in my red car.


Free and alone.
Armed with my map
I'm going far--
Just need to learn
to drive this car.

Amy Schmidt

classification:  Humour

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

"Hold Me a Little Longer" for Emma
















Hold me a little longer,
Rock me a little more,
Tell me another story,
You've only told me four.

Let me sleep on your shoulder,
I love your happy smile,
I'll always love you grandma,
Stay a little while.

Collected by Grandma Paulette Fisk about 1998
Posted by Picasaclassification:  Home and Family