En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Dedication for a Plot of Ground

This plot of ground
facing the waters of this inlet
is dedicated to the living presence of
Emily Dickinson Wellcome
who was born in England; married;
lost her husband and with
her five year old son
sailed for New York in a two-master;
was driven to the Azores;
ran adrift on Fire Island shoal,
met her second husband
in a Brooklyn boarding house,
went with him to Puerto Rico
bore three more children, lost
her second husband, lived hard
for eight years in St. Thomas,
Puerto Rico, San Domingo, followed
the oldest son to New York,
lost her daughter, lost her "baby,"
seized the two boys of
the oldest son by the second marriage
mothered them -- they being
motherless -- fought for them
against the other grandmother
and the aunts, brought them here
summer after summer, defended
herself here against thieves,
storms, sun, fire,
against flies, against girls
that came smelling about, against
drought, against weeds, storm-tides,
neighbors, weasels that stole her chickens,
against the weakness of her own hands,
against the growing strength of
the boys, against wind, against
the stones, against trespassers,
against rents, against her own mind.

She grubbed this earth with her own hands,
domineered over this grass plot,
blackguarded her oldest son
into buying it, lived here fifteen years,
attained a final loneliness and --

If you can bring nothing to this place
but your carcass, keep out.

poem by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born In Puerto Rico (demo) (feat. Jos Feliciano)

SALVADOR
I was born in Puerto Rico
We came here when I was a child
Before I reached the age of sixteen
I was running with the gang and we were wild
He keeps looking but he don't recognize me.
Some guy from Lexington or Park
Red beans and rice from kitchen windows
Supper-time and the barrio is dark.
No one knows you like I do
Nobody can know your heart the way I do
No one can testify to all that you've been through
But I will.
SAL & THE VAMPIRES
I was born in Puerto Rico
And my blood is Taino
Spanish Caribbean my soul
SALVADOR
We came here wearing summer clothes in winter
Hearts of sunshine in the cold
Your family rented this apartment
You'd watch the street lamps from your perch
In the sacramental hour your stepfather in
black
Preached the fire of the Pentecostal Church
No one knows you like I do
Nobody can know your heart the way I do
No one can testify to all that you've been
through
But this will.
SAL & THE VAMPIRES
I was born in Puerto Rico
Came here when I was a child.
SALVADOR
Small change and sunlight, then I left these
streets for good.
My days as short as they were wild.
CARLOS APACHE
I'm Carlos Apache
ANGEL SOTO
Angel Soto
FRENCHY CORDERO
Frenchy Cordero
BABU CHARLIE CRUZ
Babu Charlie Cruz
SALVADOR
Your features blurred in every grainy photo
And fading headline of the Daily News
Wiltwyck School for Criminal Children
Auburn, Brooklyn House of D.,
Dannemora, Sing-Sing, Attica,
Greenhaven
SALVADOR
Twenty years inside, today you're free.
You cannot even read your story
The pages piling up in shame
Before the words released you,
the guard would kill the light
The night you took The Capeman for your name.
CHORUS
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
I was born in Puerto Rico
LAZARUS
Yo nac en Puerto Rico
Yo nac en Puerto Rico
Mi corazn es Puerto Rico
Mi alma es Puerto Rico
Lead Vocal, Acoustic Guitar-Paul Simon
Coro Vocal-Danny Rivera
Background Vocal-Ray De La Paz
Background Vocal-Nestor Sanchez
Piano, Synthesizer-Oscar Hernandez
Tres, Plenaro-Nelson Gonzalez
Cuatro-Edgardo Miranda
Guitar-Vincent Nguini
Bass-John Beal
Drums-Robby Ameen
Bongos, Cymbal-Bobby Allende
Timbales, Congas, Cua-Marc Quinones
Trumpet-1st solo-David Rodriguez
Trumpet-2nd solo-Ray Vega
Viola-Juliet Hafner
Flute-Oriente Lopez
French Horn-Stewart Rose
Oboe-Marcia Butler
Orchestration-Stanley Silverman

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born In Puerto Rico

Salvador
I was born in puerto rico
We came here when I was a child
Before I reached the age of sixteen
I was running with the gang and we were wild
He keeps looking but he dont recognize me.
Some guy from lexington or park
Red beans and rice from kitchen windows
Supper-time and the barrio is dark.
No one knows you like I do
Nobody can know your heart the way I do
No one can testify to all that youve been through
But I will.
Sal & the vampires
I was born in puerto rico
And my blood is taino
Spanish caribbean my soul
Salvador
We came here wearing summer clothes in winter
Hearts of sunshine in the cold
Your family rented this apartment
Youd watch the street lamps from your perch
In the sacramental hour your stepfather in black
Preached the fire of the pentecostal church
No one knows you like I do
Nobody can know your heart the way I do
No one can testify to all that youve been through
But this will.
Sal & the vampires
I was born in puerto rico
Came here when I was a child.
Salvador
Small change and sunlight, then I left these streets for good.
My days as short as they were wild.
Carlos apache
Im carlos apache
Angel soto
Angel soto
Frenchy cordero
Frenchy cordero
Babu charlie cruz
Babu charlie cruz
Salvador
Your features blurred in every grainy photo
And fading headline of the daily news
Wiltwyck school for criminal children
Auburn, brooklyn house of d.,
Dannemora, sing-sing, attica,
Greenhaven
Salvador
Twenty years inside, today youre free.
You cannot even read your story
The pages piling up in shame
Before the words released you, the guard would kill the light
The night you took the capeman for your name.
Chorus
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
I was born in puerto rico
Lazarus
Yo nac en puerto rico
Yo nac en puerto rico
Mi corazn es puerto rico
Mi alma es puerto rico
Lead vocal, acoustic guitar-paul simon
Coro vocal-danny rivera
Background vocal-ray de la paz
Background vocal-nestor sanchez
Piano, synthesizer-oscar hernandez
Tres, plenaro-nelson gonzalez
Cuatro-edgardo miranda
Guitar-vincent nguini
Bass-john beal
Drums-robby ameen
Bongos, cymbal-bobby allende
Timbales, congas, cua-marc quinones
Trumpet-1st solo-david rodriguez
Trumpet-2nd solo-ray vega
Viola-juliet hafner
Flute-oriente lopez
French horn-stewart rose
Oboe-marcia butler
Orchestration-stanley silverman

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now that the there is a path for the people of Puerto Rico to express their self-determination on Puerto Rico's political status, there are some who seek to block that path.

quote by Dick Thornburgh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottled Up Horny Christian

3
times
in
4
years &
1 of those times brought on the little boy whom she spends most of her time taking care of these days
(that is, after all, the reason her man married her-for her child rearing capability)
and she thinks this second sexless marriage
brings with it the security that the first marriage did not
(first guy & her went at it like bunnies until he started finding other bunnies as well) -
the making of constant whoopee that came with the first guy
is secretly missed,
even if she wasn't the only one that had been tickling his pickle-
still, it is hard to ignore the long stretches of time that her "faithful" husband is gone
with his phone turned off,
or just left on the kitchen table, as if he had been out of the house in an awful rush &
when the baby is asleep &
she's masturbating alone
(well, she still has "jesus, " right? -that strapping young fictional character) ,
she wonders just what she did
for "god" to condemn her in such a way,
as certainly this choice was hers alone,
but everyone that raised her told her that if she followed the ways of the bible,
that if she didn't cheat on her husband &
that if she was a good wife,
then things would be ok for her-that "god" would provide-
but would "god" provide her orgasms?

she knows that if she even so much as asks where her husband has been
that said good christian man will make her wish that she hadn't &
that is why she doesn't-
instead, she just moans alone by the grace of "god, " until she gets off &
then feels guilty about having had any pleasure at all-
she knows that when the next time rolls around that the family goes to church,
that she will look good playing the roll of the dutiful wife,
wound tight in her gingham dress & smiling at her husband
who is smiling at some other church whore-
all the time pent up & about to explode from such relentless sexual
craving, wondering if she'll ever have sex again,
telling her close friends that she doesn't even think about it much,
that her hands are full with the baby-
putting on the best show of her life, daily,
she obviously missed her true calling in life-
she would've made a great actress.

poem by Andrew Delapruch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dick Dart emerged from the ether during a flight from New York with my wife and children to Puerto Rico.

quote by Peter Straub
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is—

215

What is—"Paradise"—
Who live there—
Are they "Farmers"—
Do they "hoe"—
Do they know that this is "Amherst"—
And that I—am coming—too—

Do they wear "new shoes"—in "Eden"—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won't they scold us—when we're homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—

You are sure there's such a person
As "a Father"—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls "die"—
I shan't walk the "Jasper"—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won't laugh at me—
Maybe—"Eden" a'n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!

poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Wishing and Hoping Of My Two Children

When I became a mother, I was wishing, and hoping, to gain knowledge.
I was studying reading, spelling, self learning. To educate, them. And
have a good job, for themselves. At the meantime. I could not do it
without my husband's help.
I did it" and my wish came true: Also I thank my husband Peter, He did it all!:
Our son Louis DMD, is a Pharmacist, also dentist. Our daughter works for DCI
as an Executive Secretary. I am a grandmother of two boys, Christos and Peter, Theodorou.
I had no help from my background. I work very hard to learn words; at
the same time to get along with other people I used to put my children
to sleep. After that, I was studying English or sewing for living:

poem by Pota L. Stylos
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Fisherman jim's kids

Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
For happy and warm were he an' his,
And he dandled his kids upon his knee
To the song of the sea.

Fisherman Jim would sail all day,
But, when come night, upon the sands
His little kids ran from their play,
Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands;
Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high,
He'd hear'em - you bet - above the roar
Of the waves on the shore!

Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay
As the sun went down in a cloudy sky,
And never a kid saw he at play,
And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry.
In his little house he learned it all,
And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head -
"The fever!" they said.

'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim,
With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes,
A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him
An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries
He had heerd so often upon the sands;
For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore -
Till they spoke no more.

But Fisherman Jim lived on and on,
Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea;
As a man will live when his heart is gone,
Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly,
Till once in those years they come an' said:
"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick -
Go to him, quick!"

Then Fisherman Jim says he to me:
"It's a long, long cruise-you understand -
But over beyont the ragin' sea
I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand
Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore,
Just as they used to - ah, mate, you know! -
In the long ago."

No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die;
For all night long he seemed to see
His little boys of the days gone by,
An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me!
An' just as the mornin' sun come up -
"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried,
An' so he died.

poem by Eugene Field
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27 Years! ! ! ! !

27 years of my life-
I lived like a wife,
waiting for my husband kiss;
Which i always missed.

27 years of my life -
Waited all the nights,
To share my happiness and sadness;
And i felt it was madness.

27 years of my life-
I spent with unknown husband,
Who has time to work;
And I felt like a jerk.

27 years of my life-
I spent with boredom,
And being a loyal wife;
I lost my freedom.

After 27 years of my life-
I still feel something missing,
I still keep looking;
And still waiting.
And the next 27 years will pass by:
Without my husband near by.

poem by Anju Addanki
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Miss Alva Maria

I know I'm young, but its the oldest I've ever been
I'm 23 now, halfway to 24
I'll never see these years again
so don't make me ask again, and hold out this old tin cup
just reach out for my reaching hands
and pull me up...
got no trouble staying thin
and might think that I've been blessed
lord you know that I'd say yes
god smiles upon the hungry, while you laugh...
in this second story novel, that I call home
up the stairs and down the hall
its just like turning the page
got no rugs upon my floors, but it'll have to do for now
but I'm only getting older...
and I worry about MISS ALVA MARIA
though she'll never even know that I exist
well we lost her 15 years ago, but I've been finding her all my life
there's something about the way she looks that moves me
there's something about the way she loves that moves me...
this stale cigarette smoke, still clings
to my shirt, my hair and my hands
well you know I ain't making jack, but you know that I'll be back
I've got nothing else to offer
I've got nothing else to offer
this is all I've got to offer...
and I worry about MISS ALVA MARIA
though she'll never even know that I exist
well we lost her 15 years ago but I've been finding her all my life
there's something about the way she looks that moves me
there's something about the way she loves that moves me
there's something about how she loses it all that moves me
wont you tell me what its like to be remembered?
I know I'm young, but this is the oldest I've ever been
I'm 23 now, halfway to 24
I'll never see these years again...

song performed by by Nine Days
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lost Boy's

Urban concrete jungle
In the twilight hours
This is where the lost boys are.

Kaleidoscope eyes,
Discordant vowels
These are the marks the lost boys make.

Electronic beats,
Songs of angst
These are the sounds the lost boys need.

Sad panda eyes,
Downward faces
The war paint of the lost boys.

Drum boogie,
Anti fashion,
This is what the lost boys wear.

Rejected by society,
Reminders of youth since lost
This is who the lost boys are.

Two o'clock shadows
Artificial mist provides cover
As the lost boys slip home.

On the dance floor,
By the bar
This is where the lost boys are.

poem by Amos Greig
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At Lulworth Cove a Century Back

Had I but lived a hundred years ago
I might have gone, as I have gone this year,
By Warmwell Cross on to a Cove I know,
And Time have placed his finger on me there:

"You see that man?" -- I might have looked, and said,
"O yes: I see him. One that boat has brought
Which dropped down Channel round Saint Alban's Head.
So commonplace a youth calls not my thought."

"You see that man?" -- "Why yes; I told you; yes:
Of an idling town-sort; thin; hair brown in hue;
And as the evening light scants less and less
He looks up at a star, as many do."

"You see that man?" -- "Nay, leave me!" then I plead,
"I have fifteen miles to vamp across the lea,
And it grows dark, and I am weary-kneed:
I have said the third time; yes, that man I see!"

"Good. That man goes to Rome -- to death, despair;
And no one notes him now but you and I:
A hundred years, and the world will follow him there,
And bend with reverence where his ashes lie."

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Big Balls

well i married a farmer nicknamed
"Big Balls"
nope it is not what you think at all
It started way back
when he was a city kid
who has never seen a cow
visiting his cousins on the farm
helping with chores
playing in the field
with wonder he stared
at this bull with its huge sack
hanging from its belly

too shy and not wanting to sound stupid
magnus as my husband was babtised
waited for the opportune moment
so with uncle and cousins
out in the camp
branding the animals
magnus could contain himself no more
"Wow! That bull's got "Big Balls"
roars of laughter as all eyes
looked to where he was pointing
their oldest and biggest cow.
ever since this day everybody
and now a farmer himself
he goes by the nickname "Big Balls"

poem by Persian Khushi
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For My Gran (Vovo Lucia)

Once upon a time
A beautiful woman
travelling over many seas
exotic and mysterious
strong and willful
came to stay in a land far away
She lived a full life
Passionate and determined
she made her way
became a mother
a grandmother
a matriarch
but still the sea beckoned
and back she went
to Portugal
the land of her birth
her roots
She had lost plenty
her husband, her son
and everyone said
her new life's begun
and in the Winter of her fears
a lifetime of over ninety years
she could not stop the tears
She fell silent on a Summer's day
Over the seas and far away
to another world
a heavenly place
where once again she would smile
the smile of a young woman
in the arms of the angels
who would greet her
at the pearly gates
her husband, her son
everyone
Her last breath a gentle sigh
and on her mouth she wore a smile

poem by Chantelle Ribeiro
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The Bible is an antique Volume

1545

The Bible is an antique Volume—
Written by faded men
At the suggestion of Holy Spectres—
Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;
Eden—the ancient Homestead—
Satan—the Brigadier—
Judas—the Great Defaulter—
David—the Troubador—
Sin—a distinguished Precipice
Others must resist—
Boys that "believe" are very lonesome—
Other Boys are "lost"—
Had but the Tale a warbling Teller—
All the Boys would come—
Orpheus' Sermon captivated—
It did not condemn—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Lost To Find My Lot

Lost in a world, that scares me to death,
Lost in a crowd I’m losing my breath,
Lost as a kid, lost as an adult
I feel everything is falling apart and its my fault
Lost as a person, cant find my way
Lost in life every day, Lost in worry
Who am I?
I’ve lived a Lie
Lost to Kindness,
Lost to Love
Lost in the sky,
Like a lonely dove
Lost in thought which I shouldn’t do
It Winds me up,
I can’t get through
Lost to comfort all kind words
Lost to advice that isn’t heard
Lost to those who really care?
All these people always there
Lost in Me, I need a break
Lost in wonder which road should I take?
Lost in a place I don’t know well
Where are you now? There’s no one to tell
Lost here all alone To break these walls
Lost in mind
Lost in soul
Lost memories, there just a hole
Lost family, lost my place
Still yet I’m full of hate
Lost in boredom think I’ll leave
There’s a lot in life I need to achieve

poem by Olivia Braun
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A Peasant Girl Who Left Poland

she was a young girl, named Louise, leaving her whole her family and many a friend
and boarded a boat in Holland
for New York
a new country, a new life for this 15-year old girl from Poland
for the European situation would be bleak
she would venture the Atlantic for almost two weeks
she would eventually meet her future husband Jozef Polaniec
they spoke the same language, shared the same faith, and customs,
she would find work in NYC as a maid/housekeeper,
she would eventually learn to make Gifelte fish for her Jewish family that she tended for
she would respond to an ad which was placed by Jozef
that she had met years prior
they were engaged and married
later this once peasant girl had two children, one died an early death; one
lived.
this once peasant girl and her husband had five living grandchildren
they all lived in a home with a single bathroom in Hamtramck
she would eventually have her daughter give her grandson some music lessons
I owe you Louise
for that farm girl from Poland had my mother who eventually had me
So Happy Birthday Louise, I will always think of you on this day.

4/1/2011

poem by Joe Rosochacki
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You're living in paradise

I'm getting tired of hearing your silly complaints.
You're angry because your husband isn't a saint.
Your husband forgets and leaves the toilet seat up and you think this isn't very nice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
Your husband has a few flaws but in my eyes he's great.
When I tell you about some other husbands, he'll be a man who you 'll appreciate.
I've seen husbands who beat and raped their wives and some husbands who even threatened them with guns.
And you complain about the superficial things your husband has done.
Close to where I live, a man killed his wife and then set her on fire.
Be thankful that your life isn't so dire.
These poor women's lives have been completely destroyed.
And you have the nerve to complain because your husband goes out once a week with the boys.
Before you complain about your husband again, maybe you should think twice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.

poem by Randy Johnson
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Where It Was At Back Then

Husband,
last night I dreamt
they cut off your hands and feet.
Husband,
you whispered to me,
Now we are both incomplete.

Husband,
I held all four
in my arms like sons and daughters.
Husband,
I bent slowly down
and washed them in magical waters.

Husband,
I placed each one
where it belonged on you.
'A miracle,'
you said and we laughed
the laugh of the well-to-do.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Ell Briddley

Ell Briddley she knows of the hard side of life
For many years she has been a battered wife
Her late husband Jake often bashed her and their only child Joe
He succumbed to cancer some five years ago.

Her twenty years of marriage one might say tough
And of marriage she feels she's had more than enough
The reason is not hard to understand why
That she will not give marriage another try.

At her husband's passing she did not shed tears
She feels her life with him were sad wasted years
Her son Joe is married in a distant town with a one year old son
And she feels quite proud of how well he has done.

Ell Briddley she is fifty seven years old
And for her years she is attractive to behold
To a few proposals of marriage she has said no
She is one who will not give marriage another go.

Ell Briddley is a happy woman today
And the single life seems to suit her okay
For falling for Jake she paid the bitter price
And now she will remain as single by choice.

poem by Francis Duggan
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