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Poetry

Poetry

Guest Poet: Li Bai (Li Po)

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on September 9, 2015 Respond

Ancient Air by Li Bai

Ancient Air by Li BaiI climb up high and look on the four seas,
Heaven and earth spreading out so far.
Frost blankets all the stuff of autumn,
The wind blows with the great desert’s cold.
The eastward-flowing water is immense,
All the ten thousand things billow.
The white sun’s passing brightness fades,
Floating clouds seem to have no end.
Swallows and sparrows nest in the wutong tree,
Yuan and luan birds perch among jujube thorns.
Now it’s time to head on back again,
I flick my sword and sing Taking the Hard Road.

Li Bai

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Ancient Air by Li BaiLi Bai (701 – 762), also known as Li Po, was a Chinese poet acclaimed from his own day to the present as a genius and romantic figure who took traditional poetic forms to new heights. He and his friend Du Fu (712–770) were the two most prominent figures in the flourishing of Chinese poetry in the mid-Tang Dynasty that is often called the “Golden Age of China”. READ MORE

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as Multimedia Books (digital and print) while promoting literacy in our communities. We are proud to be a community partner and digital marketer at the Rail Yards Market.#JoinOurCommunity at http://communitypublishing.org

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Guest Poet: Yvette Sandoval

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on September 2, 2015 1

Shattered Past by Yvette Sandoval

Shattered Past

Aged and weather beaten are his
hands. A few broken knuckles from
days gone past. His face has
the engraving of an intaglio master, and
yet the smile on his face
betrays the fact that his heart is tired.

His mind is still sharp, but tires
quickly, especially when it lingers on his
wife. The delicate contours of her face,
the lingering scent of lavender from
her evening cup of tea, and
how she never cared for all the items they had.

The children he loved, wishing he had
hugged them more. Their sweet faces tired
by the time he got home from work, and
laying their heads to rest upon his
shoulders, he carried them from
kitchen to room, while memorizing their faces.

Broken hands hold a tear stained face.
His life, his wife … kids, it had
happened so suddenly. She ran from
him one night – took the kids – all were tired.
They had argued, and out of nowhere his
hand came down upon her face, and …

“The accident happened so fast, and
they’re all gone,” the officer said, hand over face.
“I am truly sorry for your loss.” He
walked away, the broken man who had
never felt so tired
the broken man from

a hard working life. Where did he come from?
he was so happy once and
then at the age of 27 he was a tired
old man who just lost his family. His face
twisted with pain; his heart, his entire life had
shattered in a moments time, all because of him.

He remembers the pain, he remembers their faces
from those days so long ago, and he never had
the chance, for he was too tired, to say that he loved them.

Shattered Past

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Image of Yvette SandovalYvette Sandoval is originally from Bernalillo, New Mexico and currently lives in Albuquerque New Mexico. Yvette is a writer and Co-Founder and Partner of Community Publishing. At Community Publishing. Yvette’s specialty is graphic art and editing. Yvette has attended Central New Mexico Community College. 

Community Publishing is committed to providing a digital platform for local artists of all mediums through the creation of multimedia eBooks, while promoting literacy in our community. Community Publishing uses a “ground up” approach which emphasizes an all-encompassing collaborative method.

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Guest Poet: Alex Paramo

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on August 27, 2015 Respond

We Strive On by Alex Paramo

Strive OnFor all the madness in our world,
where people teach children to pick up guns
For all the sadness in our world,
where children starve in sprawling slums…
In a society carved with hate,
where we are taught to fear our tears,
and tear down our empathy,
We strive on.

In the middle of all this madness,
and the cries amidst the sadness
we can hope for a better day,
but we must create a better way.

For all the destruction of livelihoods,
living things and
lives
Strive OnFor all the desensitized masses,
misinformed folks, and
lies,
We strive on.

In the eye of all this madness
and beneath the cries of the unheard
we can hope for a better day,
Look your child in the eye, tell them you love them,
hold them,
and create a new way.

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Alex Paramo Summer SolsticeAlex Paramo is a native New Yorker of Colombian descent. He is an Author and Co-Founder of Community Publishing. He currently resides in Albuquerque, NM. Read More about him here.

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as Multimedia Books while promoting literacy in our communities.

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Guest Poet: Allen Ginsberg

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on August 19, 2015 Respond

DopeFiend Blues by Allen Ginsberg

I’m a dopefiend sitting in my bedroom high
I didn’t even light up no muggles, don’t know why
I’m just naturally a dopefiend under empty sky

Yes I’m a dopefiend I don’t sniff cocaine
I hear the walls ringing my nose is still in pain
It’s snowing all round NY City gimme a 2 penny plain

Oho I’m a dopefiend shoulda seen me usta mainline
Yah seen me shoulda shoot that white heroine
useta get the chills but never burnt down my mind

Hey hey Oh Lord Dope Fiend I dropped LSD
I seen Manhattan’s towers stick up in Eternity
Ten years ago you shoulda took the elevator up with me, Holy!

Ha Ha I’m a dopefiend niggerlovin commie faggot queen
I’m a beatnik hippie longhair but a square I never been
But if you Mother see my picture in the paper she say I look clean

Hey I’m a dopefiend I’m a dopefiend I breathe sweet clean air
I don’t shoot speed in my arm never more I’m a dopefiend everywhere
I’m a dopefiend in the policeman’s eyes Yeah They wouldn’t dare

to bust me for dopefiend I don’t carry any shit around
I’m just a dopefiend by nature I like to sit on the ground
all naked with my clothes on make a blue mantra sound

I’m a dopefiend I’m a dopefiend gonna bust this nation’s mind
I’m gonna put LSD in your prayers & laughing gas in the wind
ether & peyote gonna drive Mount Rainier blind–

I’m a dopefiend I roll my soul in friendly grass
Dopefiend Dopefiend I carry Nothing but Dharma up my ass
Yeaas all you dopefiends hear me! out there in the middle class!

Hey rich dopefiend when you gonna change the laws?
Hey poor dopefiend join the Socialist Revolutionary party because
They gonna legalise existence, everybody ride a big white horse.

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Dopefiend“Renowned poet, world traveler, spiritual seeker, founding member of a major literary movement, champion of human and civil rights, photographer and songwriter, political gadfly, teacher and co-founder of a poetics school. Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) defied simple classification.” Read More

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as Multimedia Books while promoting literacy in our communities.

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Guest Poet: Adrian C. Louis

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on July 22, 2015 Respond

Archeology by Adrian C. Louis

Archeology by Adrian C. LouisAdrian C. Louis is a poet and novelist. He is the author of ten books of poems and two works of fiction. His novel Skins was adapted into a feature film which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2002. A member of the Lovelock Paiute Tribe, Louis was raised in Nevada, received both his BA and MFA in Creative Writing from Brown University, and is currently a professor of English at Minnesota State University (from this article). READ MORE here.

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Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as Multimedia Books while promoting literacy in our communities. We are proud to be a community partner and digital marketer at the Rail Yards Market. #JoinOurCommunity at http://communitypublishing.org

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Guest Poet: Sara Roman

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on June 10, 2015 Respond

Snow White Chicana by Sara Roman

Your such a little Guerra.
You must be the mail man’s baby
What you don’t speak Spanish
What kind of Mexican are you?

Questions and statements like these were the words that tormented me
Growing up A little Snow White Chicana
searching for identity in a society who’s white washed lies could not define me
was strange indeed.

My brown eyes
were a symbol of the brown pride
instilled inside me
but it went unseen.

Goes to show
Eyes blinded by stereo types will always deceive
Picked and poked at by friends and family
They made me feel like it was wrong

Like my porcelain pigment was not a gift of European decent
or the diversity that binds this blood
the beauty that bags these bones
the skin that houses my home

It is a gift
My temple is full of pride in my ancestry
the good and the bad in me
and I am aware of my history now
but the battles I fought within myself
to not hate the skin I grew in then
made for a reckless adolescents undeserving of the ignorance

Truth is
I just wanted to fit in
So I’d tease my bangs extra high
and adorn my eyes with lines extra wide
even pierced my skin with them three dots one time

Had to prove it was a crazy life
Because even though my skin was white
I was brown inside
and even I could be a chola

But that was just a phase
I got over it by 9th grade
And that’s just about the time I had my first nightmare with self tanner
Silly Snow White Chicana would rather take the shade Umpa Lumpa
than the tone that she got from her Mama

It wasn’t until my college years that I let go of that drama
took a seat in Chicano Studies
learned to love my ghostly epidermis
and realized the true value of the color I’d been fighting all those years

For there is a truth here
and it slaps reality into the false identity that stares our youth in the face each day
We were not made to poke fun at each other and there is not just one race
And all of these different shades are what make us more the same

And though I am proud of my Raza
the hate that exists within the confines of color is a disgrace
and I am no longer ashamed
The pain, anguish and courage endured to create my Spanish Mexica mixture
and Mestizo culture is something I am proud of today

See,
We have nothing to prove
and to me
Brown Pride means celebrating our culture and educating our youth
and standing up for the one’s we exclude

The greatest thing we could ever do is tell the people the truth
Yet, Chicano history is absent in most of the books provided to our youth
and so they’ve just a small clue of all the colors that they should be proud of too
There’s no running from the fact that Kids’ will always tease kids in the school yard
and we may never know the complete truth

American History will always be askew
and that is why it is up to me and it is up to you
to teach all the little brown ones
little white ones,
little black, red, purple, yellow ones
the reasons they are perfect
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Snow White ChicanaSara Romelia Roman was born in Alamagordo, NM. She is the co-owner of Two Stoned Betties art studio. She currently lives in Albuquerque, NM. Read more about Sara

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as Multimedia Books while promoting literacy in our communities. #JoinOurCommunity at http://communitypublishing.org
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Guest Poet: Louis Aragon

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on June 3, 2015 Respond

Elsa at the Mirror by Louis Aragon

It was in the middle of our tragedy
And all the day long sitting at her glass
She combed her bright gold hair. To me it was
As though her calm hands quieted a blaze.
It was in the middle of our tragic days.

Elsa at the MirrorAnd all day long sitting before her glass
She combed her bright gold hair as one who plays
In the very middle of our tragedy
A golden harp without belief, to pass
The long hours, sitting all day at her glass.

She combed her bright gold hair and it seemed to be
Martyrizing at will her memory
All the long day while sitting at her glass,
Reviving still the spent flowers of the blaze,
Not speaking as would another in her place.

She martyrized at will her memory
It was in the middle of our tragic days
Her dark glass was the world’s facsimile
Her comb, parting at the fires of that silken mass,
Lit up the corners of my memory.

In the very middle of our tragic days
As Thursday is in the middle of the week.

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Elsa at the MIrrorLouis Marie Alfred Antoine Aragon was born in the Beaux Quartiers arrondissement of Paris in 1897. he was a major figure in the avant-garde movements that shaped French literary and visual culture in the 20th century. Aragaon became editor secretary of the journal Commune, published by the Association des Écrivains et Artistes Révolutionnaires (Association of Revolutionary Writers and Artists), which aimed at gathering intellectuals and artists in a common front against fascism. Read more

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as multimedia eBooks while promoting literacy in our communities. We are proud to be a community partner and digital marketer at the Rail Yards Market.
Community Publishing: From the Community For the Community

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Guest Poet: Julia de Burgos

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on May 20, 2015 Respond

Farewell From Welfare Island by Julia de Burgos

It has to come from here,
right this instance,
my cry into the world.

The past is only a shadow emerging from
nowhere.

Life was somewhere forgotten
and sought refuge in depths of tears
and sorrows;
over this vast empire of solitude and darkness.
Where is the voice of freedom,
freedom to laugh,
to move
without the heavy phantom of despair?
Where is the form of beauty
unshaken in its veil, simple and pure?
Where is the warmth of heaven
pouring its dreams of love in broken
spirits?

It has to be from here,
right this instance,
my cry into the world.
My cry that is no more mine,
but hers and his forever,
the comrades of my silence,
the phantoms of my grave.

It has to be from here,
forgotten but unshaken,
among comrades of silence
deep into Welfare Island
my farewell to the world.

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Farewell From Welfare IslandJulia Constanza Burgos García was born on February 17, 1914 in the town of Carolina, the eldest of thirteen children. Although her family’s poverty made it difficult for her to attend college, she persevered and graduated from the University of Puerto Rico with a two-year teaching certification in 1933. She participated actively in both the feminist and nationalist movements on the island at the time, while working as a teacher and journalist and publishing her poetry in local literary magazines.

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as multimedia books while promoting literacy in our communities. #JoinOurCommunity at http://communitypublishing.org We are proud to be Marketers for the Rail Yards Market.

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Guest Poet: Bill Nevins

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on May 13, 2015 1

Aurora by Bill Nevins

legions withdraw as legions must
buddhas wrecked to dust
leaving names no local tongues quite fit
so as the forward operating base he died on fades
back into forever war mist
and his friends hymn soldiers from the sky
he perhaps shines in desert ice cloud- rainbows
moondogs
north lights over Green Mountains we saw before we thought
of him
constellations only the Afghans dare name

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How Love FlewBill Nevins published his book of poems, Heartbreak Ridge via Swimming With Elephants Press this year. He organized the program Resolana Burque which can be viewed on YouTube, and he hosts monthly poetry gatherings at both South Broadway Cultural Center, Albuquerque (third Wed) and The Range Cafe, Bernalillo (second Wed) at which all are welcome. His is mad in love. bill_nevins@yahoo.com

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as multimedia books while promoting literacy in our communities. #JoinOurCommunity at http://communitypublishing.org We are proud to be a community partner in the Rail Yards Market initiative.

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Guest Poet: Jane Yolen

Published by communitypublishingabq@gmail.com on April 22, 2015 Respond

Earth Day by Jane Yolen

I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.
Each blade of grass,
Each honey tree,
Each bit of mud,
And stick and stone
Is blood and muscle,
Skin and bone.

And just as I
Need every bit
Of me to make
My body fit,
So Earth needs
Grass and stone and tree
And things that grow here
Naturally.

That’s why we
Celebrate this day.
That’s why across
The world we say:
As long as life,
As dear, as free,
I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.

SOURCE: “Earth Day” appears in The Three Bears Holiday Rhyme Bookby Jane Yolen (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1995) available at Amazon.com.

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Earth DayScience fiction and fantasy writer, editor, children’s author, and poet Jane Yolen is the author of more than 300 books. She is also a teacher of writing and literature, and a reviewer of children’s literature. She has been called the Hans Christian Andersen of America and the Aesop of the twentieth century. Read more by clicking here.

Community Publishing brings local artists of all mediums together in creative collaborations for distribution as multimedia eBooks while promoting literacy in our communities. We are proud to be a community partner and digital marketer at the Rail Yards Market.
#JoinOurCommunity at http://communitypublishing.org

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