Two poems and a short story - poetry
dying in the bar
across the street, dancing
Doña Leonor's Revenge
Rafael Ortiz's fate
When she arrived
For the beheading
?was now played out
Boarder Town Mêlée
Note: the story took place about Christmas time, in 1927, the names of the associates and place have been changed, for reasons I'd fancy not to mention: which hang on in my family's history.
(The End) Seven Mexicans came to the channel crossing from the American side of Laredo, and what is known as the Rio Grande, over to what is known as Laredo Nuevo, or the New Laredo, and again the same crossing the same river, yet known to the other side, the Mexican side, as the Rio Bravo de Norte.
A brawny looking United States childlike Forces Sergeant was glance their ID's out, as an American Colonel, Colonel Wright (who had just happened to be at the crossing at the same time), seen the Sergeant in Charge, examination them out: doing a cross-checking, bend examination of the quite a few become rough beaten Mexican's. Thence, the combatant Colonel stood by scrutiny assiduously (as he leaned aligned with his car deliberate over some credentials in his hands)-studying the inspection, as the Sergeant check out their clothing, along with their undergarments, faces [profiles], ID's-(precarious indeed-was the good Sergeant, accepted wisdom the colonel); achievable some of this inspection was too impress the Colonel: so the Colonel thought-for the Sergeant was compelling much longer than normal: or achievable for the reason that he felt there was a touch wrong and couldn't quite put his handle on it. In the choice of a forces career, one acquires instincts and wisdom clear of the normal, a survival thing, somehow, in some way printed into our nature, our animal being, our subconscious, and it goes on consequential in such matters. In also case (with the art of prescience and deduction), the Colonel approached the Sergeant and the more than a few Mexicans, whom were eminence beside the guard shack that lead to the connection crossing the Rio Grande; the Sergeant and his two Privates were armed with weapons, --both privates guarding-hawk-eyed on any and all that moved inside the radius of a hundred yards: thus, standing-almost like robots-in case there was resistance, an emergency, or disaster of any kind.
"Any troubles Sergeant?" asked the Colonel, whom had one For children Executive and one Staff Sergeant on each side of him, as he approached in three feet of the Sergeant in Allege of this Guard Post; deliberate the Sergeant slightly, for the Colonel had crossed the association many times for authoritative meetings, business, with the Mexican aristocrats, on such matters that apprehensive his GI's going into their town and drinking, export souvenirs, and business flesh and pleasure. The Colonel-prosperous an adequate amount of to be able to acquire the acknowledge of the Sergeant-waived to his black-limousine, now in back of him, which was a gesture for his driver, a Confidential First Class, to park it for the time being.
(A pause, --the Sergeant had seen the Colonel approaching: now both surrounded by a few feet of one another. )
Says he [the Sergeant now duration three feet in front of the Colonel, with his waxed and obedient obtainable smile):
"We had some agitate as you know, 'Sir,' before on this break of day and afternoon, and so I'm just bend in half checking, they look a bit ragged, as if they were doing some fighting someplace, feasible the. . . (a pause, the Colonel is breach his mouth to speak, and the Sergeant austerely stops?). "
(A light smile appears on the Colonel's face, completely looking into the Sergeant's eyes, to cover he knew, the Sergeant knew that is, that the Colonel was a Colonel, the same one that had looked the other way a few times on his squad that had drank too much, crossing the channel back to the American side, looked the other way and not brought such matters to his attention, such matters as Court Marshals and so forth and so on).
"Yes, we've had some bother Sergeant, and yes, alter ego read-through is wise, if you don't mind, let me see their papers, or at all you're holding, ID's of at all kind they have. We have just fount a good battle as you well know, with these devils. "
A diminutive curious the Sergeant was, at this request, that as a rule would bring suspicion, but the Sergeant handed over the credentials nonetheless: four-passports, two birth certificates, three licenses. All indicating they were from Mexico City, and Veracruz.
"Without a doubt, I don't see a mounting badly behaved with these wetbacks. " (Implying these were Mexicans that swam the Rio to work on the American side that was not expected demanding to get back home. ) I seen all their faces, face-to-face almost, I killed three of them you know, three for sure if not more. Let them pass on through: amplify examination these, well, well time is redundant, easier to just let them go back crossways the lodger than hurry up them to death, and use our time for other things," said the Colonel, commenting, then adding:
"You have a good eye Sergeant, but I doubt any of these are Guide Garcia, and therefore, let them get on home to their families, I'm sure they are being missed, you know the Latin's, their families worry to death when they are not home on time (a light giggle comes from the Colonels mouth). "
(Garcia was in with the seven, and the Colonel knew this; but what the Sergeant didn't know, and the Colonel did know, was two things: first, all seven had weapons under their ponchos, had they checkered much more a new clash would have been provoked-and it was Christmas Day; second, he had given his word for a twenty-four truce, while only them two knew it. And even all the same the '24-hour period,' was not spelled out at some stage in the dialogue amid Garcia and the Colonel, it was implied, understood, and they both knew it. ) Having heard that from the Colonel, the Sergeant ongoing to stand down-hesitantly, but stand down he did, thus, detaching him from the much alarmed tension that was building. The Colonel by hook or by crook had produced calm, save for the tiny cloud of doubt he had left in the mind of the Sergeant.
Early Part of the Day
(Part One) In the early part of the day, the part that the Sergeant was conversation about, the Colonel, at some stage in a fire-fight, had killed his son, Garcia's son, and wife whom tried to guard him (Garcia, minister and partner had been huddled together) from racing bullets, and in the deal with they took the bullets for him. The colonel new, then and now, the minute of battle, when the bullets are flying, seemingly never to stop-men tend to hope not including being conscious of it, hope for a happy ending, life (and so this also would be part of his deliberation, when he would approximate after the battle, the conduit the seven would try to cross, which was still in the future).
In addition, there were a come to of American soldiers killed in the fire-fight. The argue had gone on for over three hours, and when it was over-the clash that took place in this small town, on the American side of the boarder-the Colonel took to resting-thinking much on insignificant matters, allowing his thoughts to speculate of his future, fantastic opinion came and left-. Now-now with an empty firearm on his lap, resting anti a brick wall of a agree with floor house he was occupying, his mind went to the flow event: he had shot formerly transversely-across from one edifice to the other side-that is from the top of the edifice he was in, to the shop on the other side where Garcia was, for whence he had kill the enemy: the wife and son who had surrounded Garcia: this was now on his mind, he didn't mean to shoot the wife and child, but it did happen, atypical as it was, it did take place. What were they looking for he pondered on? That one would give up their life for: feasible he said, for, "Paradise exclusive of snakes. " Yet, he had never found that place himself.
Thereafter, assessment the clash was over, and Garcia was dead (of which of choice he was not) he had found himself under your own steam down pointlessly down off the top of the building, and resting adjacent to a wall on the back up floor; --tired, fatigued: air a hardly guilty, and sad, that the clash could not have been enclosed to easily the men of the world; he let out a great sigh of energy from his stomach and lungs as he leaned hard aligned with the brick wall-almost in a deep voice the last of the air came with in his body came out of his nose; his eyes finish a bit, and then reopening.
As the silence of the day took hold-the sun devastatingly heating up the external of the empty construction like toast, the Colonel rested cumbersomely aligned with the wall of the building: cooling his body fever to normal, as he ongoing to breath better, more from his stomach: while read-through his empty revolver, now resting on his thigh: while his other soldiers remained in place, he had one section of: forty-four-men in all; forty-four men casing the whole town of which ten of them had surrounded this very building, and the edifice Garcia was in.
The Colonel had given advice to all lasting soldiers to stay in place, to stand down for the moment, to let the Mexicans come out if they wished to, peacefully: but none did. And so it was a ahead of you game. They had killed a number of they knew, quite a few Mexicans, and figured concerning five to ten were left (--evidently, it was seven, only seven were left, for they had showed up at the connection ((all seven fatigued looking, but soldiers none the less, and the Colonel knew, he knew his word was given, implied, not to fight, and that more lives were at stake had he let the job go, or get out of hand; whence, he headed on to his next destination in his big-long, black limacine)).
The two men: Garcia and Colonel Wright now were face to face-both less then twenty-feet away. Garcia had showed up on the other side of the street, oddly enough, on the set of steps that led up to the room the Colonel was in, resting aligned with the wall. The Colonel heard the foot steps, but said nothing, assessment it was one of his men. Hence, still sitting, leaning lightly alongside the wall now, not as heavy as he was before, again, an inherent assess for he did not here his men chatting nor any low-laughter from their voices, nor the sounds of boots, just an uneasy sound of one character climbing the steps; his men came in two's or three's, as a rule not alone-he went examination out his pockets for a cigar, for he projected to himself the fighting had stopped, or at least congested up for now, for about twenty-minutes.
As the Mexican combatant got onto the back floor, the dusty made of wood floor (a few spiders, roaches, rats scrambling here and there-the colonel happening now listening even more so to the disruption of the moment), thence, he (he being: Garcia) seen the Colonel latent, resting adjacent to the fortification-thick brick wall, he had seen him before, they both had seen each other before, but the Colonel was now vulnerable-and Garcia stood there like a stifling moon light fixture. The Colonel had bullets to append into his gun in his pocket, but in its place said ahead of Garcia could pull out his weapon,
"Enough, there's been adequate fighting for one day, an adequate amount assassination for one day its Christmas Day, (both maintaining a sharp look at each others movements, as if to indicated ought to I, or ought to I not-snake instincts, snake eyes: race, accusation abruptly for my bullets, or shoot this murderer who killed my wife and son?. "
The dark Mexican, lean and pastoral looking-looking with approximately telegraphic eyes, long black hair, deep-set in face, pocked clear cheeks, five foot six inches tall, as dirty as a rag-picker: said with an honorable, and bawled voice: "Se, amigo, daya largo-let there be peace," (it had been a long day for both, and much carnage had taken place) he crooked around, a tear in his eye (the Colonel noticed), and walked back down the steps. The Colonel never touched his gun, nor did the Mexican go for his.
Nothing would bring back his wife or child, and in campaign one knows there were no rules-not really, not when it comes to the last flash of breath, all were soldiers, even if you bring into sight your own flesh and blood. Plus Garcia knew that Colonel knew it was not a mans way to kill brood or women, it was as it was, a little that happened and would not had, had his wife and child not insisted on being part of the militia.
[The Beginning] As the Colonel lay back anti the rock-hard wall of the building, he attention about what had taken place. He was on top of the shop less than an hour ago, or was it more, or was it less. He questioned himself. He shot three times, as he came under fire, as he remembered, as he looked back, back to reminisce. He had then run out of ammo, and had shot his last three shots, two killings, one a woman, and the other a child-warrior, everyplace along the line, in the crack of dawn he had killed a further Mexican caught up with this insurrection. Now after the spew out with his family, blood was all over Garcia's white shirt, which was not certainly white anymore, egg-white, with blood stains, pink blood that would keep on in both the memories of the Colonel and the Mexican. They had both run out of ammo, only the Mexican had run out a barely ahead of the Colonel, had it been the other way, doable the Colonel would be dead, but it wasn't the other way, it was as it was, not the past, not the future, as one would like it to be in his or her favor, but the present, as it was all was in the present. In the mist of battle-the dark-macabre battle, they had both by hook or by crook found added bullets, but the Colonel never put them in his gun, and Garcia, even if he did, it was tucked away in his belt, under his poncho.
And so ended, the mêlée (the fight), and when they had met again at the bridge, the come upon was over, at least for twelve-hours more; at least in the minds of the two warriors, at least in the two warrior's minds, hearts and characters-souls. Character has a burning pull, and for them, neither one could or would fight but for the odds were equal, if fate demanded it, it was just part of their nature; plus, it was Christmas Day.
Dennis is an cause of 29 books, soon to be 30, with his collection of some 24-poems to be in print soon in English and Spanis; the book is called, "The Spell of the Andes. " His books can be seen on most any book store web site.
Writing Innovative Poetry
Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that decent literary journals publish, entails aware accurately what each word of a poem does to the reader. A good poem be supposed to be evocative, skillful, and cohesive, but beforehand attempting to hone these attributes, a aptitude poet must be conversant of the a choice of forms and attributes of contemporary poetry.
You cannot make a big cheese love you. All you can do is be a big name who can be loved.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the afforest of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the crazy eyes of death.He writ you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood blemished brows He will take you to the edge.
Do not be fearful to shine. This world needs what you have to give.
The Trade of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Commercial of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras quad in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the come to grief of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the husband of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins.
The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish)
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to its glory in the Rio Valley-for a season; then let it be gone, we shall call it Copan?"Prologue: Empires come and go, liken to cosmic events, or the storms about the world: Atlantis, Mu, Greece, Persia, Rome, the Inca Nation, and even the great Maya heroic times of Copan, in Essential America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time.
Mechanical Poetry - Part Three
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start doubling-up them.
Life is a Fantasy
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms overflowing with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only because of himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her care for NEEDS to see the bestHe answered her God requestTo have a roof to comfort bringA yard where all the birdies singTell me how she could certainly knowWhat font for education could she go?Her care for evenly beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can continue many idiosyncrasiesShe could not make him defendant beDenial, avoidance? she disbelievesThe rabbit hides beneath tall trees.At thirteen a step-grandfatha'Finds a well-trained girl that oughta'Do what athletic men requestNever deliberate what is bestAnd run away she does at lastFreedom can be such a 'blast'A rabbit's foot upon a chainThe FANTASY her 'safe' domainHow long in life must it remain?To care for her from these menWho continually for her lips, do 'yen'A state trooper in Tennessee Like every other man does see Her lips so full and succulent red Through the bars, not in a bed.
Top 20 Poetry Quotations
Explore the denotation of poetry and the motivation of poets with this elite assembly of reminiscent quotations..
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY Acquaintances AND MY FOOD PLANMY Psychoanalyst AND MY THOUGHTSMY Apply AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN A little HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I Belief WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I Be supposed to DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE Detailed I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY Dilution AND CONFIDENCEAS ED At all times KNEW I WOULDI AM Down INCHES About MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE Diminishing OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
A Ship to Remember
A Dose of Laughter
I'm not well. Can't you tell? Kinda low, so, give me a dose of laughter.
Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up difficult to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls anti the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!Sexual longings-a conduit to anger and rage- Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the page Give it a corridor to run, tell your friends, they've won.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
What's a prisoner to do when acceptability fails and the childlike is escorted off to jail?What's a prisoner to do once stigmatized, caged and abandoned and ostracized?What's a prisoner to do there's no one to trust; the arrangement fails and the outcome unjust?What's a prisoner to do when category decide the punishment is defensible and justified?What's a prisoner to do while confined in a cell; the perpetrator's free and faring quite well?What's a prisoner to do once his reputation is dead and his life has been ruined for the reason that of what a big cheese said?What's a prisoner to do when he's not believed, though he's effective the truth, he's belief to deceive?What's a prisoner to do as he sits all alone, no one seems to care; earlier links all gone?What's a prisoner to do meeting lost and idle and most of one's opinion develop into suicidal?What's a prisoner to do when freedom's taken away and the will to live diminishes each day?What's a prisoner to do when hedged in by strife; with no avoid possible; no attempt for a new life?What's a prisoner to do when he can no longer see the beauty of the sky or the waves of the sea?What's a prisoner to do when the sun he can't feel, nor the breeze of bounce since his fate is sealed?What's a prisoner to do when doomed to despair but still praying to break the thrilling chair?Tell me, what's a prisoner to do?Rev. Saundra L.
Welcome to the Town of Feeling
Happy, Sad, Mad and Glad, Moved in down the streetCautious watched them, from her window, Wondering, which one ought to I meet?Confused came in with overwhelmed and said, "The Panics have come to town"Then Hopeful called the carefulls, And said that Happy was a clown.Anxious came in with the news, Confident had called a town meetingTo take a vote for Mayor, And to Appreciate the new neighbors to Feeling.
now is not the time to open open that great door again not the time to be more tolerant not the time to play to winnow is not the time for justice evolution mercy choices not the time to pet the puppies yipping with pathetic voicesnow is not the time for kindness not the time for compromise not the time for loving blindness not the time to close my eyesnow for one too many people not that i have gained no good heart has sown but flesh is reaping tears to mind and done in bloodnow my inner wolf seeks equals only those whose chords can howl deadly whether lone or social defending young or on the prowltell me not that you would die upon the spines of my displeasure live for me and for you will i cherish each cell as if a treasureput me not confidential a cage but roam with me all the way through snow and sun be by my side or breathe my dust for i shall bleed again for noneNiki Lasher Artist, Writer, and Webmatron http://www.kthulah.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Debate of How Do I Love Thee?
"How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was printed in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also aristocratic Elegy XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese.
For My Mother
I cannot bear to think of when you will be gone.I do not understand how I will get along.
Famous Poets Quotations - Top 30 Poetry Quotations by Eminent Poets
"For this analyze poetry is a little more philosophical and more creditable of critical consideration than history."-- Aristotle"Every American poet feels that the whole accountability for contemporary poetry has fallen upon his shoulders, that he is a literary upper classes of one.
Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, insists that we appraise the deceiving clarity of our measures and the goals that motivate us. How does one in point of fact get from "A" to "B"-and is there ever actually a "B"? What color is the white space concerning "A" and "B"? Upon earlier inspection, become known realities disclose themselves to be spongy and fragile, covered with textures and grains that lead the eye on changeable pathways.
|home | site map|
|goldenarticles.net © 2018|