Free Verse: The Angel

The Angel   I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne'er beguiled! And I wept both night and day, And he wiped my tears away; And I wept both day and night, And hid from him my heart's delight. So he took his wings, and fled; Then the morn blushed rosy red. I dried my tears, and armed my fears With ten-thousand shields and spears. Soon my Angel came again; I was armed, he came in vain; For the time of youth was fled, And grey hairs were on my head.   -William Blake-

Thundercloud Grey-Benjamin Moore-2124-50

Thundercloud Grey-Benjamin Moore-2124-50

A thundercloud cracked

Hovered above her head

Her blonde hair ran in all directions,

Dripping droplets down as she ran

She had to reach it

For her, for her daughter

The lemon-eyed woman picked up speed

She jumped through the clouds

Raced through the town hall

Her yare feet movement wasn’t enough

Her sweet sounding voice 

Now drowning with tears

She wasn’t going to make it

 In time

By miracle, as if someone above the clouds

Knew of her troubles, she reached her destination

Just as the lightning broke the mantle of grey

Inside it was dry and cold

Everyone was working

Everyone had come in time

Yet everyone lived close to work

But the bus did not understand

“YOU’RE FIRED!”

She exited through the door

Her hopes had come to die

How would she tell her?

With the rain still pouring over her shoulders

She performed a walk of shame

Her blonde hair now fell sloppily down

The spark of her lemon eyes had died

Her gray shirt now damped in rain and tears

Shame and sadness lingered around her

Her shame and sadness could be smelled miles away

The time had come

For the stars to show

The woman wondered

How to tell her?

How to explain it to her?

She’d have to get a new job

As her walk of disgrace came close to an end

She tripped over a rock

AHHHHH

She fell on the cold concrete

The rain still pouring,

Now on her face

The single mother decided to stay there;

 Let the rain fall and wash her tears

Let them cover her body

Clean her of her shame

The thundercloud hovered above her head

Some lighting stroked here and there

*prop, prop, prop*

Went the rain as it damped her whole

The ground rumbled

As the grey let go a thunder

Tiny footsteps walked her way

Right in front of the mother was her

The blonde mother did not want

Anyone to lay her eyes at her current

Especially her own daughter

“Mommy, stand back up.”

Said the small girl as she extended her hand

The lemon eyed woman kindly accepted,

There was nothing she could do now

Together they walked slowly,

Letting the rain fall and

Trickle down the smile on their faces

Laughing, smiling, forgetting the sadness

Somehow the daughter knew what had happened

And the mother knew she knew

Together they entered the bakery

Asked for the one thing they could afford.

As the muffins came they sat together

Ran through the jobs listed on the newspaper

for more colour collectives go to Middle Minds

Where I am From

I am from pencil shavings,
from papermate mongol and erasers
I am from the gigantic lego creations
scattered about the rooms

I am from the marañon trees,
whose seeds hang upside down
I am from music and creativity,
from Abuela Maggie and Abuelo Numan
and Vasquez- Perez

I am from the organized chaos,
the jokes and puns
From there is nothing to fear and be careful
I am from prays at night
Padre Nuestro, Santa Maria Madre de Dios
and Angel de Mi Guarda

I am from San Fernando
from Panama City Panama
I am from golden coins and
ancient relics.
From brownies and banana cakes

I am from the Creepy doll collection Tia Blanca Elena
never wanted, nor will, throw out
I am from the one who is missing both eyes,
her pitch black holes, ever staring, into mine.
And from the leap of faith Andrea took when she was six
hoping she could do like I did
*thud* she went from the dollhouse's roof

I am from the albums on top of my head,
from the first trip we took when we were born,
From Ecuador to New York
From Grandma's baby sepia pictures and my dad
sitting in the bus with hair on his head

I am from falling for fictional character
Eadric, Luka, and Tony as well
I am from Abuela Charo's Halloween costumes:
The Mime, Charlie Chaplin (3rd), and BettleJuice [Betelgeuse] (2nd)

I am from Pegasi, Unicorns, and Ponies alike
Buttons, Surprise, Sparkler, and Posey
I am from Pinky and Lila Tutifruti
forever in my heart

I am from nine months ago, the 25th of December
at the beach as night falls
I am from roses, delicate yet full of thorns.

I am from Abuelo Rudy's gazillion of farms
and the pawn shop from before that
I am from the first
"Who is that Pokemon?"
up to
"It's Tepig, Oshawott, and Snivy!"

I am from the sketches of my mom
and the anatomy of my dad
I am from Wednesday
August 26, 1998

I am from the drawers right besides me,
the notebooks on the first then the erasers.
I am from the biology slide kits which contain
Frog Ovaries, cricket skin, and butterfly wings

I am from "you are weird" and
"but, in the good way"
I am from the microscope underneath my feet
from the portable one in my third drawer
I am from doubts and procrastination
from pouts and "the people of my nation"

I am from games
La Lata and Sardinita
La Gallinita Siega and
Un, Dos, Tres Pan y Queso

I am from questions, pondering,
mixed feelings
From individuality, secrets, and
Control-Z,
 AND CAPS LOCK PRESSED ACCIDENTALLY
I am from "Quick! act normal!"
and "S41T! I'm screwed!"
I am from "sorry" and
"I don't care."

I am from the green van
that is one year less old than I am
I am from the Rexton and the Frappes
we ate in there
both, to be sold
For them I both cared

I am from my strenghts, my weaknesses
and everything in between
and my obsessions alike.
But I mostly am from those who have formed me
My Family, my non-blood-related family
my teachers, my Friends
Yet I am from the places I've been,
the people I've seen, met, and believed

I am from my Family
all the way to the top of the tree,
from my drawings, my pets,
my weird fantasies

I am from my dreams,
the mini heart attacks
(startles) I have everyday,
from my freaky "artistic sense"
and from all the stuff you all put up with

I am from peace and war
the light and the dark
to love and tolerate
I am from evreything above,
from August and beyond :)

-Ximena Vasquez-

Poetry Notebook

Eyes

Selected by: Ximena Vasquez

Description: Eyes are the vent of life, of the soul itself.  They are the bridge that opens worlds and the doors to sealed and unwanted emotions.  For eyes are the most beautiful part of a homosapien sapien´s body and shall remain as hearts windows until the ends of time.

Synopsis: This blog entry is about poetry that captures the essence of eyes. The ones we owe our sight to and the ones that capture our emotions. These are a collection of poems about eyes and the emotions that they have evoked.

Poetry:

Deep Brown Eyes by: Still.so.young.xoxo

Through others' eyes by: Jessica Dawn Hamon

Deep Eyes, Deep Love by: Commi

When Eye Cry by: Zab

In My Mind's Eye by:Cannaballester

When I Look Deep into Your Eyes by: Katie LT

Eyes of Darkness by: Deep Dark Soul

Deep Green Eyes by: Ayten Ali

Also I would like to give a shout out to my friends Prashansa, Eun-Bin, and Alejandra." This is the model I was talking to you about, Jaco Van Den Hoven.

For more poetry notebooks go to MiddleMindz



Historic Letter

Dear Claire,

            I know I’m a sinner for this thought but it’s eating my mind. My guile towards Momma was something I wished to put in action. I couldn’t, but I still hoped. She’s probably wishing the same. We all wish you here, with us. Yet we know God will keep your soul safe. Don’t worry you are in a better place. I bet Momma even wishes I died instead of you that day, in the ship. She loved your sunny disposition, she abores my happiness.

            So how is it up there, in heaven? Down here, it’s horrible. Everything is “for the general good of the colony”, ugh.  Let me tell you how it is, so let’s say you want to play hide & seek, well guess what you can’t! Why? Unless everyone wants to play you can’t. Joseph’s dad needed some meds. For Rosemary, his mom, but they couldn’t. These selfish beings wouldn’t let him go back to England because it would take days and preparation and a bunch of lame excuses. In the end, we were all present when she died.

Days later I tried to take a stroll with Joseph, to my favorite spot, Marie’s Pastry Shop. We never made it; a spontaneous winter came upon us. We’ve had to stay inside for days. So many that we’ve lost count. I did record something else, something of far greater importance.

Deaths.

Millions, Zillions. All dead!

            Oh, Claire we’ve dropped to less than half the colony. Now I have to do the washings, dishes, and hear Momma complain about how slow I am with work and the weather. It would be much better if you were still alive. You could help me end mom’s imperative announcements on how everything, including me, would be better if you were alive. In the end we probably will end up dead, like you.

            There is nothing fun in the house. We can’t even look for fresh flowers for your shrine, the snow is too dense. I’d wish I knew how to send this letter but all I can do is pray for God to lower the snow or to tell you how much I miss you. That and to be honest for him to excuse my soul. In the end everything here is so bad. Ok, it IS terrible, the food stock has been decreasing and Momma is unbearable but BEFORE the snow the new world wasn’t all that bad. Then again if the snow will ever decrease maybe the journey might be worth it.

Your beloved sister,

Rosen Ducayne

Tayvon Martins: Fear of what they don't Understand

A black boy, Trayvon Martin, wearing a hoodie was fatally shot by a volunteer neighborhood watchman in Florida. The volunteer claims that the boy was looking suspicious and attacked him. He also says he shot Mr. Martin in self-defense. The teen, Trayvon, was only 17 when he got murdered by George Zimmerman, the volunteer and has been proved that he only carried some candy. Meanwhile Mr. Zimmerman was patrolling---passing by---when they encountered and deemed Trayvon “suspicious”. As much as everyone believes that Mr. Zimmerman has to be brought to justice, trialed, and apprehended. Yes, George Zimmerman has not even been denied usage from his gun. Up to this day the parents of Trayvon are searching for justice to be done. They’ve manifested peacefully in the streets asking for justice and no more racism.

            Prejudice can lead to injustice by matters like this. Zimmerman had believed Trayvon was going to attack him just because he was wearing a hooded sweater, a hoodie. Adding the fact that he was black Zimmerman had thought that he would win the trials placed in front of him but he is wrong. Times have changed, skin color doesn’t matter. Prejudice can lead to injustice mainly by its own name that signifies judging a book by its cover. Many times a trial or a trivial event is given to the one who doesn’t deserve it because he is of a “superior” race. This is not true as everyone is equal but many think that “everyone is equal but some are more equal than others” –Animal farm, George Orwell. Unfortunately prejudice is part of our daily life. Like Zimmerman he used prejudice to guide him into killing innocent Trayvon. Like many people and Mr. Zimmerman prejudice has become part of the daily life.

            The responsibilities that all individuals have to protect the innocent is to free them from harm---Let them live in a world without fear of being themselves. One has the responsibility to make sure history does not repeat itself. To do this we as a whole need to get rid of many things, mainly prejudice.  What I’m trying to say is that for the world to function, for the world to no longer live in fear that someone might do something to you. For the world not to fear that they might get shot for looking suspicious just because they are wearing a hoodie.

            When people fear what they do not understand they find themselves trapped with feelings of anxiety, dread, and despair. This is what Mr. Zimmerman must have felt when he thought Trayvon was suspicious. When people fear what they don’t understand they take action based on irrational thinking, they don’t think of the cause and effect what they are doing might have.

Gender stereotypes influence people’s behavior into making them do irrational things. As it happened on this occasion the gender stereotype was the one a black boy with a hoodie looking “thug” like. These type of stereotypes are between the worst, as to say that each of them is bad. Just because he is of one skin color, black in this case, doesn’t mean he’s in a gang or caring a gun around. Hell, would Zimmerman have shut it if was an asian, or a Russian, or an Aussie? It is in moments of judgment that stereotypes are mostly followed so do you think that Zimmerman would have shot if Tayvon wasn’t black?

Death, Snow, and Fire

      The day Mrs. Radley died everyone was indifferent, it wasn't a calamity since she rarely went out of her house. Jem and me I had high hopes that Boo Radley had finally got her but to our disappointment she died of a natural cause. At least that's what Atticus said. I tried to question him further and asked him if he'd seen Mr. Arthur, he simply replied no. His intentions were imminent he didn't want to be interrogated. He'd shackled me from further information and Jem stopped me from protesting and asking more questions. The newfound information was useless our hours of conspiring had been in vain.

        As I woke up I started to shudder--- boy was it cold! I saw through my window and started to scream.

"Atticus! Run! The worlds endin´!" Whit tiny pieces of sky were falling into the grounds. I tried to apprehend the happening but deemed it impossible. "The sky is falling! Run for it."

       Just when I was about to jump off my bed Atticus came in with half of his beard shaved and the other covered in white. "No it''s not, It's snowing." I tried to assimilate my new information--- I had never seen snow before and after much thought and looking out the window I realized how beautiful this bizarre event was. Jem had never seen snow either but at least he didn't make a fool of himself in front of Atticus. Later in the day we planned to make a snowman, how exactly? I wasn't even sure.

         We walked to the backyard and it was just---wonderful. The grass was all covered in a thin layer of white and the plants were all holding their little pieces of snow so carefully so that it wouldn't fall. I had to walk on it; feel it carry me away. I wanted to feel it touching me, I opened my mouth to catch one.

          "Jem it's hot." He later explained to me that it was so cold it burned and told me not to eat it because I was wasting it.  I had to be very meticulous now if I wanted to make that snowman. i could only step where Jem stepped or go back my tracks, we needed all the snow we could obtain. Somehow I felt that we were lionizing the snow. Jem and I started heading to Mrs. Maudie's, see if we could catch some of her snow.

           Once we got there we found her in the backyard screaming at us to stay in the middle of her yard, there was some thrift buried in her yard. Her garden was far more beautiful than our backyard; her flowers were covered in snow and tiny frozen droplets. Her trees had a white sheet and her hat was constantly shaking off the white particles. Dissension over how her garden looked was on Mrs. Maudie's side. For her the sooner we got rid of the snow, the better.

            Jem started to fill in baskets with snow and dirt, different ones of course. Who'd ever herd of a Negro Snowman?Time elapsed quickly as he dug and dug for more dirt filling in the end five baskets full of earth and two with snow. Slowly he started to create a skeleton with the dirt and gave patches of snow to the snowman, slowly turning him white. As he started to turn white he started looking more and more like Mr. Avery all he was missing was a stick of stove-wood. He'd only let me work on the back but hell was I proud of it.

           The second Atticus showed up he demanded we covered it. Apparently he didn't like how well we portrayed Mr. Avery, male counterparts and all. Jem had to run to find something to cover it and quickly came back with Mrs. Maudie's hat; behind him Mrs. Maudie was running for it. As she came across our creation she snatched way her hat, took a look at Mr. Avery's Snowman, and reprehended us for "erecting an absolute morphodite in the yard." After that the day just got colder and colder but I was happy. I'd seen my first snow and built a perfect snowman.

               The moment I feel asleep was the moment Atticus woke me up, trouble must have brewed for him wake me so early. I asked who was in trouble and he answered Mrs.Maudie. I sprang from bed and got on my bathrobe as he'd told me. Not a second too soon I was out of the house alongside Jem.From where we were standing we could clearly see the smoke rising up in the sky coming from Mrs. Maudie's house.

              "Go down and stand in the Radley place, Keep out of the way, see wich way the wind is blowing," ,Ordered Atticus.

               With a push from him and some words to Jem we headed our way to the Radley's. From there we could see the whole event taking place and the people in the streets watching the fire devour her house. There was nothing they could do except push a firetruck stuck in the ice; finally they attached the hose and started poruing pressured water into the remains of Mrs.Maudie's house. In the end three firetrucks were needed to extinguish the fire---her house was not saved. Atticus though saved her beloved heavy oak chair while everyone the street was shouting for Mr. Avery to come down the burning structure. In a matter of seconds the beautiful snow had Maycomb in anarchy.

                When the fire was finally put down all but one firetruck remained. Jem and I walked back home taking in all that'd happened.  He'd offered us some hot cocoa at first and kept starring at m like something was amiss.then he took me by surprise when he asked about some mysterious blanket in my shoulders.

                 "I don't know how it got there Atticus!"  I answered. I could see he was ready to punish us and Jem could see it too. So he stated to pour our secrets. One by one he told them to Atticus who didn't even pay attention but just said we better keep the blanket and one day I could thank him. It took me a while to realize he meant Mr. Arthur. He must of placed it on me when no one was looking; if I had just turned around I would of seen him. Why didn't I turn around?