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New Verse News, TheNew Verse News, TheTHE NEW VERSE NEWS covers the news and public affairs with poems on issues, large and small, international and local. It relies on the submission of poems (especially those of a politically liberal bent) by writers from all over the world. Articles
GHAZAL FOR BAIJI, GODDESS OF CHANG JIANG*
2007-10-01 11:27:00 by Joan GelfandAncient lore recounts I was born with a princess’ spirit, a princess with a dream,Of a chosen love, not pre-ordained. I lived on beauty, on dancing, in a dream.I was re-born in slender dolphin’s form. Followed stars, planets, a moonbeam(I refused the ugly suitor; my parents drowned me - this was no dream.)Across continents I journeyed to the Yangtze, a river so rich, so very pristine.Immersed in pure waters, I sang and swam and loved – this is not a dream.I lived my new life for millions, yes, millions of years – I reigned supremeUntil you dammed the river! Destroyed our food, then a dreamThat I was dying from lethal, man-made things. You didn’t heed my screamMy warning: You will pay for fouling the waters, for the misguided dreamOf shipping on my river, my delicate home. Still, you want to be redeemedBy forgiving waters; you dispatched scientists by boatloads - they didn’t dreamThat I would leave this place forever – leave the stench, the once pure stre... More About: Goddess , Ghazal , Chang , Chan
ELEVEN
2007-09-30 11:15:00 by Joanne LoweryFinally, after ten appeals in twenty-five years,he is proclaimed innocent and set free.Because of test tubes and microscopic juiceshe is believed. Now his words are called true.The girl, he did not rape and kill that girl.It was all a mistake of justice and procedure.Look at him weep in the arms of his mother.Reporters want him to describe his happinessin a metaphor that makes twenty-five years disappear.How he woke up every day to an orange suitand pig slop and unborn children is redeemedby today’s passage through the prison gate.Look at the happy man cry.You too can feel that swell in your chestwhere your heart lives caged in ribs.You can forgive busy people their careless mistakesand tell yourself you are stronger for allyou suffered, that what you knowabout yourself is what really matters.If you look at today’s sky, it can be bluerfor you than for any of the people who walk byin couture clothes, jabbering on BlackBerrys.On a happiness scale of one to ten, ele...
THE YEAR OF IRAN
2007-09-29 12:30:00 by Bill Costley[newspoem]One ambassador in Washington saideven he was taken aback to hear John Hannah,VPOTUS CHENEY’s national security adviser,call this “the year of Iran ” in whicha U.S. attack is a real possibility. Hannahdenies the quotationmarks.Bill Costley serves on the Steering Committee of the San Francisco chapter of the National Writers Union. More About: Year
HOUSEWORK
2007-09-29 01:57:00 by David ChorltonFrom the safety of our breakfast we observea line of monks passinglike fire across the television screenso early in the day they couldbe the remnants of a dreamin which we sought an imageto express a wish too easilysuppressed: that stillness in the faceof force can bringit to surrender. Then there are clothes to be washed,though none are so redas the robes in the procession,and the routine to pursue with those choresthat continue no matter who rules us.Dust, sweep, wash the dishes, waterthe plants and put seed out for the doveswho don’t know they’re a symbol of peace.The work is neutral, and deflectsfrom issues of the spirit or from thinkingabout how best to showresistance. Fold the laundry, visit the store,watch other people as they keep their viewsinside themselves. Nobody wears red todayin my city. Nobody is marching. Nobodyhas to clean a bloodstain from the pavementwhere it pooled around a lost pair of sandals.David Chorlton lives in Phoenix, writes and pain... More About: Ework
MAY WE BE FREE OF TORTURE
2007-09-28 01:33:00 by Mary Saracino30,000 maroon robes wafting in the wake of oppression,red tongues of wisdom chanting, “May we be free of torture.”30,000 voices singing, “May there be peace in hearts, peace in minds.” 30,000 monks flowing like a river of justice through the crowded streetsof Myanmar . 30,000 prayerful hands pressed palm to palmin dissent. 30,000 warriors of compassion supplicating, “May kindnessspread around the world.” 30,000 seed-syllables scatteredin the waiting wind. May 30,000 pleas ripen, bear fruit,fragrance our hearts with wisdom. May 30,000 songs of protestinstill hope in minds paralyzed with fear. May fierce witnesstransform violence, sow peace, liberate our spirits from ignorant inaction.May 30,000 echoing footsteps awaken us from separation,proclaim this noble truth: this blood, these broken bones, those bulletsare no illusion. May all beings be free of torture. May all torturersbe free of hatred & despair. May all beings everywhere be... More About: Free , Torture
MY SHOWERHEAD SINGS
2007-09-27 11:33:00 by Dave SeterMy showerhead sings some mornings,releases water confined long underground in mazes of cylinders cankered with rust.We city dwellers have great appetites,lake the faraway rivers, fill the cylinders.Pressure builds in chambers of government.Pipe this water. Beneath stone-vaulted ceilingssenators squawk, stonewall legislationresonant with questions.Who owns this tree, that river,which stone? Ashes to ashes, dustto dust and mineralized rain, thingshave no voice, but some mornings it's rainmakes the showerhead sing, rapid, elusive,its silver running to drain.Dave Seter was born in Chicago. A registered civil engineer, he now lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. His poems have appeared in various publications including Karamu, Blue Collar Review, Bear River Review, and Switched-on Gutenberg. More About: Sings
GLOBAL DIMMING
2007-09-26 12:15:00 by Joe PaddockIt is saidthat those smokestack particulatesthat rise to dirty our skiesand cloud our lungsform a second sooty shield abovethat one of gasses that hold in heat,that flatulence risen fromour zipping around down herein the throes of fear and desire.It’s saidthat our second shield,formed of coal-fire’s black bits and otherdirt-bucket stuff, does us some gooddown here. Though dimmingour dear old globe a little,it fends off a deeper heatsulking mean above,easing some the simmering ofthis strange stew we nowfind ourselves in.Joe Paddock is a poet, oral historian, and environmental writer who lives in Litchfield, Minnesota. His most recent books include the biography of wilderness preservationist Ernest Oberholtzer, Keeper of the Wild, and a collection of poems, A Sort of Honey. More About: Global
50-30=20 (YEARS)
2007-09-25 12:24:00 by Katherine WestThere is a picnic tableThere is a liter of wineThere is a pipeThere is bad spaghetti andnot enough of itThe bread is burntThe music loud Led ZeppelinEveryone's hair is blondewith black rootsEveryone wearsa dirty t-shirtbig silver jewelry andtoo much of itIt is Monday butNo one is at work orprotesting the warEveryone playswith hoola-hoops andfireNo one gets burnedEveryone tells jokesNo one listensEveryone tells stories Momwith Alcohol Dementia at 80can't remember yesterdayEveryone saysshe's enlightenedwith her Eternal NowNo one criesEveryone eats ice creamNo one says "no"Everyone dancesNo one knowsmy nameKatherine West is a poet presently living in northern Colorado and teaching Creative Writing at the local community college, museum, and Naropa University, which is in nearby Boulder, Colorado. More About: Years
MAN SURVIVES FALL FROM 17TH FLOOR
2007-09-24 11:58:00 by Rochelle RatnerHe'd been out with friends. He was drunk. He was in a Minneapolis Hyatt. He was running down a long hallway with a double-paned floor to ceiling window at the end. His fall was cushioned by a roof overhang. She, too, is on the 17th floor. But if she jumped from the small window on her left it would be because she's sober. Because she lives here.Rochelle Ratner's latest poetry books include Leads (Otoliths Press, 2007), Balancing Acts (Marsh Hawk Press, 2006), Beggars at the Wall (Ikon, 2006) and House and Home (Marsh Hawk Press, 2003). She is the author of fifteen previous poetry collections and two novels (Bobby’s Girl and The Lion’s Share) both published by Coffee House Press). More information and links to her writing on the Internet can be found on her homepage. More About: Fall , Floor
PICASSO, 1963, AT THE BOSTON MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS
2007-09-23 02:03:00 by Liane Ellison Norman for Andy, September 3, 2007Painted the year our son was born, the year & nbsp; after wemarried, the year the Buddhist monk set himself &nbs p; on fire,in Saigon, Vietnam, two warriors, part ancient &nbs p; Roman, parthorse, going at each other in the midst of green fields—in the background a church—trampling ; a motherand a screaming infant with a hoof that looks like a hand.Liane Ellison Norman won the Wisteria Prize for 2006, awarded by Paper Journey Press, for her poem "What There'd Been." She has also been published in the journal Rune, in Voices From the Attic (Carlow University Press, 2007), in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette and Pittsburgh City Paper. Her first book of poetry, The Duration of Grief,... More About: Boston , Arts , Fine Arts , Museum , Fine
A WILE E. COYOTE ROCKET
2007-09-22 12:38:00 by Frank Sloanwarm, muggy night.Todd Tihart safely home in bed.all his aides and analysts and speech writers &nbs p; resting comfortably on their thick mattressesand the cost of health insurance for working people ; &nbs p; zooming crazily like a Wile E. Coyote rocket.the wife and I can’t sleep.the walls of their new economy close in on us.we find it hard to breathe in peace.all the congressmen, home in their bed dreaming of their generous pensions, &n bsp; either don’t see our don’t care about the trap they set for us.we catch the wail of an ambulance slashing through the night.some poor soul crashed on the highway and headed for bankruptcy, if he isn’t dead.some poor slob & nbsp; on his way home from a second job at the paint f... More About: Rocket
CONFOUNDED
2007-09-21 11:24:00 by Barbara DanielsShadow of a womanin a glass porch,white dress gone rosein the sunset,light burning up from a red porch swing,vines curled like snakesthrough holes in the screens.Why do I hear the moon whisper,hear a dying animal?Is it the woman zookeeper killed yesterdayby a jaguar?My eye is a clock,my mouth stretched wideto the point of erasure.Is it the bomb at the mosque?The explosive detonated Thursday in Ramadi?Army Staff Sgt. Joshua R. Hager, 29, of Broomfield, ColoradoArmy Pfc. Travis W. Buford, 23, of Galveston, TexasArmy Pfc. Rowan D. Walter, 25, of Winnetka, CaliforniaThe moon bulges, gibbous. The jaguarshot. The womandead. My student raisesher hand. “Like you,I am obsessed with death,”she tells me.In the front of the classroomI am an ice cliff, all austerity,all betrayal, confoundedby sorrow, holdingyesterday’s newspaper.Barbara Daniels' book, Rose Fever, will be published by WordTech Press in 2008. The Woman Who Tries to Believe, her chapbook, won the Quentin R...
OBAMA NATION
2007-09-20 11:34:00 by Earl J. WilcoxPresidential candidate, Senator Obama , arrivedin town today, an entourage of media twerpstagging along to swell the crowd, catch a glimpseof a major voice in this next election cycle.Obama spoke at the Freedom Center, now anAfrican-American church but decades ago acenter of activities in the Civil Rights Movement.In those days, the Freedom Center housed the FirstBaptist Church---lily white, angst-driven Old Southfolks who did their fair share you can bet to preventObama’s predecessors from eating at the Woolworthlunch counter just down the street, about a block away.The First Baptist Church moved to the suburbs.Freedom Center remains near its roots.Earl J. Wilcox founded The Robert Frost Review, which he edited for more than a decade. His poetry was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. More About: Nation
SOME WOMEN JUST GIVE UP
2007-09-19 12:15:00 by Diane KendigSome women just give up—they refuse to wear makeup or color their hair and end up looking more like a grandmother than a mother. That’s just not me! --Lynda, 52 in “Good Looks: Beauty, Fitness, News, Deals, Trends," Good Housekeeping, May 2007. Some women just give up—they refuse to bleach their skin or straighten their hair and end up looking so African-American. That’s just not me.--Fiona, age 37Some women just give up—they refuse rhinoplasty or highlighting and end up looking so Jewish. That’s just not me. -- Rachel, age 43I know. Like some girls I know just give up. They refuse to give up meals and embrace their anorexia and like, they end up looking so fat, like my sister, who’s 107 pounds now.--Ana, age 19Well some women just give up and refuse to have children. They end up looking more like a godmother than a grandmother. That’s just not me.--Glynda, age 87Some women just give up—they refuse to curl their hair or streak it and end up looki... More About: Women , Give , Give up
HEADLINERS & LEGENDS
2007-09-18 11:44:00 by Aaron O. GillegoO J Simpson gets arrested as Hillary Clinton unveils her universal health care plan. It’s 1994 and my father sits there with his dialysis machine, watching Peter Jennings on World News Tonight. On the dining table, I work on Ms. DiLeo’s world map contest for the 8th grade Social Studies class. There are new nations to color in like Namibia, the Ukraine, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and old ones that I don’t know how to label: Myanmar or Burma, the CIS or the USSR. Nations that had once been there have disappeared as if wiped out by a nuclear bomb or as if their existence didn’t matter. The U.S.A is still red, white and blue….and the Philippines just yellow traces on the corner of a map, next to the legend that’s supposed to make things easily understood: that an international border is a solid line, a provincial border is a dotted line…That’s how I viewed the map in front of me, as my father soaked in the news of the world.Now in 2007, I watch the... More About: Legends
TAP DANCERS REQUIRED
2007-09-17 11:30:00 Visual by Jeff Crouch Text by Christopher WoodsChristopher Woods is the author of a prose collection, Under a Riverbed Sky, and a collection of stage monologues for actors, Heart Speak. His play, Moonbirds, about doomed census-takers at work in an uninhabited desert country, received its New York City premiere at Personal Space Theatrics. He lives in Houston and in Chappell Hill , Texas .Jeff Crouch is an internet artist; he lives in Grand Prairie, Texas . Google “Jeff Crouch” to see what he currently has on the internet or go to: http://www.blueprintreview.de/6jeff_crouc h.htm. More About: Dancer , Dancers
PLAGUE YEARS
2007-09-16 08:00:00 by George HeldAnd I brought you into a plentiful country, to eat the fruit thereofand goodness thereof; but when ye entered ye defiled my landand made mine heritage an abomination —Jeremiah 2.7And verily I say unto you that a nationBrings a curse upon itselfThat allows an outlaw leaderTo waste its treasure and its warriors’ livesAnd limbs on distant wars spawned of liesAnd negligence and that visits deathAnd destruction on innocents; a nationWhose merchants hawk sugary food and drinkSo its people suffer the plagues of obesityAnd diabetes; that fails to offer medical careTo its citizens so that they suffer the plagueOf rotting teeth and all manner of disease;That lets its citizens fall homeless to liveIn cars and on streets and suffer soaking rainIn fall and spring, bitter cold in winter,And broiling sun in summer; that turns its madOut of asylums and into the streets,That curses its poor, its deviant, its non-Believers; that fails to rebuild where its negligenceHas caused devas... More About: Years
WHAT THE MOON SAID
2007-09-15 12:00:00 by R.L. Greenfielddiana of wales died ten yrs ago.she predicted she’d die young in a crash.she felt her impending disappearancefrom the radiant earth-----she was radiant& attracted to the grand opposite.she & dodi al-fayed departed togetherin a sleek mercedes-benz.i sat up all night watching cnnas news & propaganda trickled in.what does it mean?‘nothing’ happened:the car crashed & the watch began.nobody entered the mercedes-benzto lift diana out of the car.the cops & photographers were transfixed.they stared & stared & stared:diana was alive alone & traumatized.the world stood still at the end of the tunnelin paris, france 31 august 1997.the world watched diana pass over the borderinto the great void.& then everyone came out of the housesto celebrate with songs & flowers & paintings& graffiti: there was no stopping them.the masses thundered over the lawns& parking lots out into the streets of great britain.they waved banners... More About: Moon , The Moon
CASA HILDA
2007-09-14 11:30:00 by David ChorltonWelcome to San Jose. Breakfastis at seven. Papaya. Coffee. Conversationin the language of your choice: &nbs p; &nb sp; &n bsp; & nbsp; ; &nbs p; &nb sp; Ge rmanto describe the turtles on the coastor faltering Spanish for usto make a friendly gesture and sidesteptalking politics. &n bsp; & nbsp; ; &nbs p; &nb sp;There are booksfor the visitor to read beside the chairsdownstairs: ; &n... More About: Casa
THE PUNCHING BAG
2007-09-13 11:29:00 by Rochelle RatnerAs a four-year-old he had a Superman punching bag. Then, when he turned seven, he pleaded for a Wonder Woman bag but his parents refused him. He wanted to punch his parents. When he was nine they gave him a heavy, professional, leather TKO punching bag. TKO: Technical Knock Out. Not one of those hanging bags that you see in gyms, but a floor model as tall as he was. A real man's bag, his father called it. And for the next month he beat up on it, then joined the Little League and lost interest. His father and older brother carried the bag to the basement. Then he took advanced science in seventh grade and decided to measure the effect water which sometimes drained into the basement had on the sand or pellets inside the punching bag. He unzipped the back. Bras, panties, thongs, and stockings tumbled out. He ran upstairs, choking with the smell. He stared at his mother.Rochelle Ratner's latest poetry books include Leads (Otoliths Press, 2007), Balancing Acts (Marsh... More About: The Punch
AN I FOR AN I
2007-09-12 12:27:00 by Charles FredericksonI wanted to serve my Country but not like this & nbsp; Both first and last mission &nbs p; &nb sp; Impossible dreams loathsome nightmarish fearsI hoped to somehow make A difference true values markdown &nb sp; Immoral ethics dishonorable unbecoming conduct &nbs p; &nb sp; Good-for-nothing bad blood spilt regretsI never thought – not really Daily life stifling dead-end impasse &nbs p; Stench of decaying human garbage &nbs p; &nb sp; Misdirected one-way alleys U-turns forbiddenI didn’t give my life &nbs...
THE STRATEGIST: KARL ROVE
2007-09-12 01:25:00 by Nancy HansenRove chokes up on final day at White House. --CNN.com headline, 31 August 2007 Discreetly standing to one sideA cherub sizes up the sceneLike Satan viewing Paradise.He lifts his fine-carved bow unseenAnd carefully draws back the string.With baby-blue tied round his neckTo complement his steely eyes,And with method jovially opaque,He smiles and sways to mesmerizeBelievers who deny the snake.In soft pink flesh his reptile part,Unseen by mortals, shoots the dart —Then lightening-quick re-coils to hurlIn rapid sequence bile-tipped smears,Wildfiery whispers kindling fears,And epithets to burn the ears.The slurs drawn from his arsenalIncriminate or just suggest,Delivered with cherubic smile —“Immoral,” “traitor,” “atheist,”And “homosexual pedophile” —Bring down his quarry to provideFor hunger never satisfied.He rested then and planned his next attackBut thought he heard, as he was settling back, An inves... More About: Karl Rove , Rate
GONZALES PUNTS
2007-09-12 01:20:00 by Anne G. DaviesGonzales treats civil rights with insoucianceAs though they were a public nuis-i-ance.After shredding the Justice Department to bitsAlberto's decided to call it quitsBefore Congressmen have scrutinizedThe illegalities he routinized.He leaves a vital agency in tattersUnfit to grapple with critical matters.This little man showed great tenacityKeeping Guantanamo filled to capacity.Abu Ghraib did not his soul encumber,Ruffle his feathers, or disturb his slumber.He pushed for wiretaps sans warrantDespite fears of excesses abhorrent.He advocated any kind of violenceThat might break a detainee's silence.Oiling his way like Uriah HeepHe woke a sick man from his sleep:"To keep the homeland safe," he saidAs he badgered Ashcroft in his bed.His "I don't recalls" and constant denialsHave generated a roomful of files.As for the eight D.A.s he fired:"No, Senator, I never conspired;That was just a routine decision'Too minor to require my supervision."We're rid, at last, of thi... More About: Zales , Punt
THE TOWERS OF BABEL
2007-09-11 11:30:00 by David FeelaIf I were a MuslimI’d try not to speakin this poem, on thisday, when ideologycrashed into steel.What could I sayif I were a Muslim.What could I doexcept go to the mosqueand pray, pray to Allahthat Jesus Christwon’t be angryfor six more years,seeking blood for blood,praying to Jesus Christthat Allah won’tbe vilified forever.Not foreverbut on this daywhen all it takesis the wrong wordto start the twin tearsfalling again, as ifI ever intended to doanything today exceptgo to the mosqueand pray, pray thatAllah won’t leave mehere in a land of fearand reproach for beinga Muslim man, unpackingthese words from my heartand leaving thembeside my shoesat the door.David Feela is a poet, free-lance writer, writing instructor, book collector, and thrift store pirate. His work has appeared in regional and national publications, including High Country News’s "Writers’s on the Range," Mountain Gazette, and in the newspaper as a "Colorado Voice" for The Denver Post. He is a c... More About: Babel , Abel
THE END BEGINS AGAIN
2007-09-11 01:21:00 by Becky HarblinThe ancients came downor up holding scrolls, or tablets,or nothing but the wind.They never lied.All they say is true, all they said is true.And we mortals pick our noses,our fleas, our friends. and our right religiousways. And they are all true, all right, all oursto pick or not. All we say is true, all we said is true.The ancients came downor up holding their hands upon their heartsor holding their hands on genitalsso large as to be fantastic.But, they showed their true selves, they show their true selves.And we mortals pick our mates,and multiply. And train our childrenin our ways. And each way is true, all waysright, all ours, because all we say is true, all we said is true.The ancients came downor up holding sacks of seeds, and cages of fowl,and simple tools to garden or farm.Some liked grapes, others wanted guinea, but theyshared their knowings, All they said is true, all they say is true.And we mortals took upthe sacks and tools and raisedthe plants and farmed ...
A WOMAN SIGHED
2007-09-10 12:00:00 by Robert M. ChuteIn the doctor's waiting rooma woman sighed, saidto a friend, "Tommy's teacherwants all the childrento wear something patriotictomorrow — the anniversaryof nine-eleven, you know."That was when I knewthe terrorists were winning.Robert M. Chute’s book from JustWrite Books, Reading Nature, poetry based on scientific articles, is available from Amazon or Barnes and Noble. More About: Woman , A Woman
"YOU BASTARDS BETTER NOT CUT MY ARM OFF"
2007-09-10 01:22:00 1st Lt. Dawn Halfaker, June 19, 2004 Baquba, Iraqby Terry M. DuganDawn Halfaker is interviewed by James Gandolfini in the documentary Alive Day Memories broadcast on television on September 9, 2007. Her quoted words appeared in a news article in the Washington Post by Donna St. George on April 18, 2006, “Limbs Lost to Enemy Fire, Women Forge a New Identity.”Maimed by war,unconscious at Walter Reed HospitalNo other way to save her life, they said.She lost pieces of herself in war.“Get us out of the kill zone”The female platoon leader yelledWhen the rocket-propelled grenadeExploded behind her.“I didn’t want to knowWhat I looked like.”Burns on her face, her arm missing,Towel covered the mirror in her hospital room.A basketball standout at West Point,A commissioned army officer,Wondering now how she could holdA child close to her.Terry M. Dugan's anti-war poetry has appeared in Women's Studies Quarterly, Poetry Ink, and New Verse News, and the Anthology of New England Wr...
YOU MAY NOT UNDERSTAND
2007-09-09 02:00:00 (TO THE TROOPS)by Jim BushYou may not understand whyI write what I writeYou may not agree with itYou may think I'm unpatrioticOr that I don't careYou may thinkThat I don't understandWhy you fightYou may thinkThat I don't understandThe threatOn the other handYou may hear my wordsAnd they may ring true to youPerhaps you've seen the lightMaybe things have becomeMore clear nowMaybe nowYou understandMy outrageMaybe nowYou seeHow wrong it isTo sendAmerican men and womenInto a war they can't winMaybe nowYou seeHow wrong it isTo sendThe pure in heartTo be corrupted by this warMaybe nowYou will believe meWhen I tell youThat I have cried for youMaybe nowYou will forgive meFor caring this wayWhether you want me toOr notI have seen the damage of warI have seen the damageThat even a "good war" can doI have seen the damageThat a bad war can doI have seen the damageThat this war has doneYou may think you are fightingFor freedomYou may think you are fightingTo protect AmericaYou may even beli... More About: Understand
HOME FROM IRAQ
2007-09-08 05:13:00 by Howie Goodfor Mikey O.They said the Army would be good for yousupply the discipline you neededand when you came back at 21with a Bronze Star and a Purple Heartthere was a ceremony at the high schoolwith speeches and a color guardand they renamed a park after youand planted a tree but you didn’t knowhow could you at the top of the hillunder a simple stone in the town cemetery Howie Good, a journalism professor at the State University of New York at New Paltz, is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Death of the Frog Prince (2004) and Heartland (2007), both from FootHills Publishing. He was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize and is the featured poet in the Autumn 2007 issue of The Grand Rapids Literary Review. More About: Iraq , Home
KRISTIAN TELLS HIS STORY TO THE SUN AND THE MOON
More articles from this author:2007-09-08 05:05:00 by Bárbara Renaud GonzálezTo Pfc. Kristian Menchaca, from Houston , Texas , who was captured and brutally killed in Iraq on June 16, 2006.I am the sun and moonAnd forever hungryTo hear your story.Your mother, did she not love you?I bet your father abandonedBoth of you. Is that whyYou went off to war?Your mother’s crying now, won’t talkTo CNN.They’ve told her how you died.She knows you suffered,But I know much more.They say you became a manIn the Army. I sayThey planned it soYou had no choice butTo die so they could sleep,Without fear of sharing a little bread.Help us, God, take Kristian.Your story is an old oneBut I’m still hungry. Come, sit besidethe sun and moon.Bárbara Renaud González is a writer/journalist in San Antonio. In 2000, González received the Inter-American Press Association Opinion prize in Santiage de Chile for columns "that inspire community debate." In 2001, González was censured for opposing aggression in Afghanistan after 9/11. González' work... More About: Story , Moon , Tells , The Moon , Tory 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 |
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