Wind

by Dawn Pisturino

Wind, wind, holler and cry,

The windows are shaking, the doors want to fly!

The old tree is creaking, it surely must fall;

The chimney is cracking, bricks, mortar and all!

How everything shudders! I mustn't delay:

We have, it would seem, a tornado today.

May 3, 1986

Au Vent                                                             To the Wind

Souffles, O vent,                                                Blow, O wind,

Dis à mon oreille                                               Speak into my ear

Un doux mot d’amour;                                     A sweet word of love;

Emportes mes rêves,                                         Carry away my dreams,

Rapportes mes souhaits,                                   Bring back my wishes,

Et n’oublies pas, pour toujours,                       And don’t forget, always,

Ὰ chanter une belle chanson.                            To sing a beautiful song.

5 mai 1985                                                            May 5, 1985

pour mon ami, J.J.                                              for my friend, J.J.

Paris, France                                                        Paris, France

 Copyright 2012 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

First Party at Ken Kesey's with Hell's Angels

by Allen Ginsberg

Cool black night thru redwoods

cars parked outside in shade

behind the gate, stars dim above

the ravine, a fire burning by the side

porch and a few tired souls hunched over

in black leather jackets. In the huge

wooden house, a yellow chandelier

at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers

hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles

Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths

dancing to the vibration thru the floor,

a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet

tights, one muscular smooth skinned man

sweating dancing for hours, beer cans

bent littering the yard, a hanged man

sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,

children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.

And 4 police cars parked outside the painted

gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.

December 1965

BIO: Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) was a leader of the beat generation and the anti-Vietnam war movement. He wrote in the tradition of William Blake and Walt Whitman, heavily influenced by William Carlos Williams and Jack Kerouac.

Springtime

by Dawn Pisturino

Springtime struggles to survive

The clasping arms of winter,

Stirring up the honey-hive

And bringing forth the flower.

She hastens to restore the sun:

The melting snows recede;

And when the sap begins to run,

The worm returns to feed.

A flock of sparrows in the sky;

A big, red-breasted robin

Perched to catch a passing fly,

His little heart a-throbbin'.

Daffodils with yellow heads

Bobbing in a row;

Rich brown fields and grassy beds

Waiting for the plow.

Winter, dying in the wake

Of Springtime's warmer rain,

Thaws the river and the lake

And disappears again.

February 21, 1986

Won HONORABLE MENTION award in the Pot o' Gold contest sponsored by World of Poetry, March 1986. Awarded 1986 GOLDEN POET award. Published in World of Poetry Anthology, 1987 and Best New Poets of 1988.

Copyright 2012 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.