America’s 250th Birthday

 

“A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door.”*

From coast to coast, sea to shining sea.

“And a word that shall echo forevermore.”*

 

A strike, a lightening down to the core.

Resurrected from the dead; we are on our knees.

“A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door.”

 

Bore the fate of the nation, he rode and roared;

a cry of alarm: “Wake up, wake up and see.”

“And a word that shall echo forevermore.”

 

Enemy already landed at the shore,

wave after wave, gathered around the quay.

“A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door.”

 

Crisis? Turning point? A mortal pledge in store.

Clock is ticking; can you hear the uproar and plea?

“And a word that shall echo forevermore.”

 

Place our trust in the hands of the almighty Lord.

Implore forgiveness on bended knee.

“A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door.”

“And a word that shall echo forevermore.”

 

 

*From the poem “Paul Revere’s Ride” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

​

​

​

​

​

A Young Woman at a Window

 

Yonder the sailboat, Cadaques Bay,

beyond the endless sky.

 

March arrived.

I grabbed the first ray of sun.

 

April 1st,

so was the first kiss of life.

 

May, no trouble,

figured out the meaning of happiness.

 

June was easy,

just jumped over the hurdle.

 

July, how high, how bright.

At my window,

summer breeze softens the universe.

Tonight, yes, stars stars, I want them all.

 

August comes.

Daring to go around the world.

 

Remember September.

Don’t forget the route back home.

 

And October, a restful, sound sleep.

Time, space belong to me.

 

Thankful November. A soul mate

in sync with what I think, how I feel.

 

The end of December.

All these congeal into a loving heart.

 

Look, look,

January, February…

​

​

​

​

​

Once Upon a Summer Night

 

The day to part the meadow. Through  the night,

you came to stay with me near the beach.

The sand warmed my feet while you sat right

next to me, the song you sang was a speech.

You told me and pointed at the stars I can reach,

and I would know someday, it’s longstanding,

always, I should hear the ocean landing.

 

You said, loon’s yodeling actualizes the longing

of the soul, in touch with abandoned dreams,

forsaken desires, a sense of belonging.

An echo of unyielding and wearied screams.

So far away, so nearby, in the lingering gleams.

“Where are you?” A distant wail, “I am here,”

and you reply, “you’ll hear and feel, loud and clear.”

​

​

​

​

​

Hippopotamus

 

A lore or a myth?

A jealous hare set a fire,

burned off my long body hair.

I jumped, immersed in the mire.

 

Submerged in the summer marsh,

I can surface and run to kill.

Three minutes per mile

makes everyone chill.

 

In the zoo, I am a double bass

rock star. With my grunt and bellow,

I stage with tortoise and fake

as a jolly good fellow.

 

They say I am oafish,

clumsy and crude.

What a rude rumor,

as I am very shrewd.