The Strait of Gibraltar Is all a glisten this Veterans Day morning Sunlit pieces of history Matriculate and spin in holy flatness Sun surge cups my heart in praise of All that came here before. The wars that surged the coasts that impinged like furtive eyes The blood rich battles, the hurry for winning in this tight radiant channel This light could dissolve me in my room Looking at painting floating on the wall Being nearby this way to Miguel de Cervantes Maiming his left arm at Trafalgar In a night smile I touch Miguel de Cervantes Fighting here and Lord Nelson, caps, swords and daring Emma Hamilton with a flair Their ships flaunting the air in zealous lust pushing madly through, pushing through fervor war hysteria aligned in light, bare blood and bones In this wild thin space, earth enclosed To win more in the sea and the sun Floating in this straight strait To be up to this glorious moment Wild living in this brooding loud and dazzling glory While I drift sorely trying to get earthly Balance back.
Quote here—add return / line break only if more than half-way across page. Make regular block when adding this. —Attribution (source)
How War Kills Silence
Skews the words buried There. How in the Valley of the Fallen, the skins of Franco’s Murdered stink war and shriek Deja me estar let me be me In a silent light which welters Peaceful living in a bright sky My soul springs a strange hardiness To accost the noise of the killers whose rampant madness stifles the splendid sound of soundless Beethoven
I say no pasarán
Today is like waiting on the Titanic for rising water to eclipse us. Visions of Marcelino Peñuelas telling of fascist censorship with the great charm of the Spanish language full of lips and dips. I hear Malvina Reynolds singing in the back seat, her spirit constant and believing. I see all these fighters who would not back down ever. No pasarán And me facing a siege of ice darkening when I want to read and write. Primeval. Humbling. Pegging about with flashlights. Rose and Jack faced inevitable waters but they had each other. Robert Frost knew the terror of ice "But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To know that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice." Tonight the taps will resound like thunder claps and I will memorize my words and see the great ones fighting for a promised land.
For A New House
Before the Election Poem
It was a military mob, swarming as a hive might, quite. A concave movement. A kind of cleaving. The rotten pieces hanging as a gang would in that shining knot of pain evil brings ready to bite and cling and stick to. We the people must leave our dens and walk to forever to cut them out to let our strong peace beauty spread. She said I’ll blow your house down. She said this evil has lit too many fires. I’ll blow your house down, she said.
Poems ©2022 Linda Chown
All rights reserved
…is a poet professor musician who now lives in Michigan although her past is coastal: Spain and California. Author of four books of poems and currently finishing her next book, Sunfishing, Linda is a life-long activist, sun lover and dreamer. A hopeless romantic, sometimes inequities everywhere drive her to despair and to writing action.