Gacela of the Dark Death

Poem by Federico Garcia Lorca

 

 

I want to sleep the dream of the apples,

to withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries.

I want to sleep the dream of that child

who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

 

I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,

that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.

I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass,

nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth

that labors before dawn.

 

I want to sleep awhile,

awhile, a minute, a century;

but all must know that I have not died;

that there is a stable of gold in my lips;

that I am the small friend of the West wing;

that I am the intense shadows of my tears.

 

Cover me at dawn with a veil,

because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me,

and wet with hard water my shoes

so that the pincers of the scorpion slide.

 

For I want to sleep the dream of the apples,

to learn a lament that will cleanse me to earth;

for I want to live with that dark child

who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

 

 

BIO: Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) became one of the most important poets and playwrights in 20th century Spain. He was murdered by Franco's soldiers during the Spanish Civil War for his homosexuality and liberal political views.

Revolution!

 

 

 

REVOLUTION!

 

by Dawn Pisturino

 

The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.

The government becomes a little bit colder

and a little bit bolder

and you know that we told her

it would happen.

 

The Left of the Right began to struggle with all its might

and decided to declare a revolution:

"It's the only solution to the capitalist institution,

and you know we've got to do it,

for our own evolution."

 

Spring 1971

 

NOTE:  It's time to put an end to rigged elections, corrupt politicians, and political candidates who betray their own supporters!

This one's for you, Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders!

DOWN WITH THE DNC AND THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY!

 

DUMP HILLARY 2016.

Retire this bitch forever.

 

Dawn Pisturino

 

 

Cuban Poetry by Jose Marti and Nicolas Guillen

 

 

 

 

I WISH TO LEAVE THE WORLD

 

 

I wish to leave the world

By its natural door;

In my tomb of green leaves

They are to carry me to die.

Do not put me in the dark

To die like a traitor;

I am good, and like a good thing,

I will die with my face to the sun.

 

Jose Marti

 

 

 

I HAVE

 

When I see and touch myself,

I, Juan with Nothing only yesterday,

and Juan with Everything today,

and today with everything,

I turn my eyes and look,

I see and touch myself,

and ask myself, how this could have been.

 

I have, let's see,

I have the pleasure of going about my country,

owner of all there is in it,

looking closely at what

I did not or could not have before.

I can say cane,

I can say mountain,

I can say city,

say army,

now forever mine and yours, ours,

and the vast splendor of

the sunbeam, star, flower.

 

I have, let's see,

I have the pleasure of going,

me, a farmer, a worker, a simple man,

I have the pleasure of going

(just an example)

to a bank and speak to the manager,

not in English,

not in 'Sir,' but in companero as we say in Spanish.

 

I have, let's see,

that being Black

no one can stop me at the door of a dance hall or bar.

Or even on the rug of a hotel

scream at me that there are no rooms,

a small room and not a colossal one,

a tiny room where I can rest.

 

I have, let's see,

that there are no rural police

to seize me and lock me in a precinct jail,

or tear me from my land and cast me

in the middle of the highway.

 

I have that having the land I have the sea,

no country clubs,

no high life,

no tennis and no yachts,

but, from beach to beach and wave on wave,

gigantic blue open democratic:

in short, the sea.

 

I have, let's see,

that I have learned to read,

to count,

I have that I have learned to write,

and to think,

and to laugh.

 

I have . . . that now I have

a place to work

and earn

what I have to eat.

I have, let's see,

I have what I had to have.

 

(translated by J.A. Sierra)

 

Nicolas Guillen



Jose Marti bio: Jose Marti (1853-1895) is considered an important national hero of Cuba. He became an influential leader in Cuba's efforts to free itself from Spanish domination. His defense of Cuban nationalism earned him the title, the "Apostle of Cuban Independence." His writings influenced the Cuban Revolution led by Fidel Castro.

Nicolas Guillen bio: Nicolas Guillen (1902-1989) is best remembered as the national poet of Cuba. As a member of the Communist Party, he served for 25 years as president of the National Cuban Writers Union. He won the Stalin Peace Prize in 1954 and the Cuban National Prize for Literature in 1983.

Dawn Pisturino

Book of Psalms

from "The Old Testament," NKJV

PSALM 14

(To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David)

The fool has said in his heart,

"There is no God."

They are corrupt,

They have done abominable works,

There is none who does good.

The Lord looks down from

heaven upon the children of men,

To see if there are any who understand, who seek God.

They have all turned aside,

They have together become corrupt;

There is none who does good,

No, not one.

Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge,

Who eat up my people as they eat bread,

And do not call on the Lord?

There they are in great fear,

For God is with the generation of the righteous.

You shame the counsel of the poor,

But the Lord is his refuge.

Oh, that the salvation of Israel would come out of Zion!

When the Lord brings back the captivity of His people,

Let Jacob rejoice and Israel be glad.

Psalm 20

(To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David)

May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble;

May the name of the God of Jacob defend you;

May He send you help from the sanctuary,

And strengthen you out of Zion;

May He remember all your offerings,

And accept your burnt sacrifice. Selah

May He grant you according to your heart's desire,

And fulfill all your purpose.

We will rejoice in your salvation,

And in the name of our God we will set up our banners!

May the Lord fulfill all your petitions.

Now I know that the Lord saves His anointed;

He will answer him from His holy heaven

With the saving strength of His right hand.

Some trust in chariots, and some in horses;

But we will remember the name of the Lord our God.

They have bowed down and fallen;

But we have risen and stand upright.

Save, Lord!

May the King answer us when we call.

Psalm 23

(A Psalm of David)

The Lord is my shepherd;

I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul;

He leads me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil;

For You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil;

My cup runs over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

All the days of my life;

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord

Forever.

The Psalms belong to those books in the Old Testament known as Wisdom Literature. They help us to answer five universal questions: How did we get here? What holds life together? Why are we here? What happens when we die? What will be the fate of the universe? There are 150 psalms divided into five books, each ending with a song of praise to God. They were composed by Jewish sages in the Hebrew language, who employed a wide variety of poetic literary techniques, to express strong human emotions. They are as relevant and popular today as they were thousands of years ago. Psalm 23 is my absolute favorite because reading it instantly calms me and gives me hope.

Dawn Pisturino

My Pretty Rose Tree and Other Poems by William Blake

My Pretty Rose Tree

A flower was offered to me;
Such a flower as May never bore.
But I said I've a Pretty Rose Tree;
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my Pretty Rose Tree;
To tend her by day and by night.
But my Rose turned away with jealousy;
And her thorns were my only delight.

Ah! Sunflower

Ah Sunflower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveler's journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sunflower wishes to go.

The Lily

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn:
The humble Sheep, a threatening horn:
While the Lily white, shall in Love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And Thou shalt not. writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys and desires.

ALL OF THESE POEMS BY WILLIAM BLAKE ARE FROM 

SONGS OF EXPERIENCE

William Blake (1757-1827) was an English poet, painter, engraver, and mystic. His book of poems, Songs of Experience (1794), contains some of his most beloved poems, including "The Tyger."

HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY SPRING!

The Fairies - William Allingham

 

 

Up the airy mountain,

     Down the rushy glen,

We daren't go a-hunting

     For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk,

     Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

     And white owl's feather!

 

Down along the rocky shore

Some make their home,

They live on crispy pancakes

Of yellow tide-foam;

Some in the reeds

Of the black mountain-lake,

With frogs for their watch-dogs,

All night awake.

 

High on the hill-top

The old King sits;

He is now so old and gray

He's nigh lost his wits.

With a bridge of white mist

Columbkill he crosses,

On his stately journeys

From Slieveleague to Rosses;

Or going up with music

On cold starry nights,

To sup with the Queen

Of the gay Northern Lights.

 

They stole little Bridget

For seven years long;

When she came down again

Her friends were all gone.

They took her lightly back,

Between the night and morrow,

They thought that she was fast asleep,

But she was dead with sorrow.

 

They have kept her ever since

Deep within the lake,

On a bed of flag-leaves,

Watching till she wake.

 

By the craggy hill-side,

Through the mosses bare,

They have planted thorn-trees

For pleasure here and there.

Is any man so daring

As dig them up in spite,

He shall find their sharpest thorns

In his bed at night.

 

Up the airy mountain,

Down the rushy glen,

We daren't go a-hunting

For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk,

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

 

 

 

William Allingham (1824 - 1889) was a popular Irish poet during the Victorian Era whose poem "The Fairies" became a childhood classic.

 

 



HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

 



 

 

British Love Poems

 

 

Sonnet XLIII

from Sonnets from the Portuguese

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)~

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

~Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593)~

Jenny Kiss'd Me

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
     Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
     Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
     Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
     Jenny kiss'd me.

~Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)~

So We'll Go No More a Roving

So we'll go no more a roving
     So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
     And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
     And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
     And Love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
     And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
     By the light of the moon.

~George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)~