She has patience that defies great despair
In the face of age eroding her motherhood, Sarah waited and gave birth to a nation
She has penitence that overcomes shame
In the face of a cruel death, Magdalene braved the stones and shame and became a saint
She has loyalty that is audacious
In the face of fear and the disciples going in hiding, Mary and Magdalene stayed by Jesus’ side
She can be armless but still walk with defiance
In the face of bloodshed and an incarcerated husband, Winnie Mandela fought apartheid for a nation
She can switch from polite conductor to tough commandant
Carrying brain injuries Harriet Tubman was the female Moses who free slaves with armed invasions
Her beautiful face soaks up tears of pain but always shine bright again
In the face of a world of turmoil and hate, women give us the beautiful half of humanity
Happy women’s day!
There once was a little mighty ant
Who was extravagant and arrogant
Known to be exorbitantly militant
She was so combatant and petulant
They nicknamed her My Commandant
One day she came across an elephant
Elegant and obviously dominant
She started on her typical rant
Then stopped and decided to recant
Both agreed it was all very insignificant
They chatted, it turned out the elephant
Was actually the ant's aunt
Suddenly the intolerant ant
Has become cheerful and exuberant
And now routinely breaks out in chant
Read on air by invitation ~ May 26, 2020 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: 2nd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
As nightfalls come to fruition
Leaving room of conditions
For dreams to strive
And before dawn breaks
Memory ceases to create
So to mediate
Our corporal world
Into transient capacities
Of unborn fallacies
To mitigate now’s journey
Into sanctuaries bearing
All fruits of now’s nativity
In proximity to the ability
Of mystical remnants
Encompassing clear disordinance
When no clue of commandant has risen
To prove indifference
To whom
No one, not here, not now
As priors fall apart
In the discard of somber triumphs
Where cyclical is met first hand
Unlike tombs
Where nothing is apparent
And the rest
relies
on wonder
-Salvador Martinez
Limerick: Once a Mom Tigress spurned her lame-born cub
for Commandant Cousteau’s son
Once a Mom Tigress spurned her lame-born cub
Wild Life Champ admitted cub to his club
Took cub under his wing
Till she could wildly spring:
Club members now learn to swing the knobbed club.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Snow falls on the brittle leaves of birch trees,
their branches miraculously overlooked by the December wind.
It makes a sound like the marching feet of scary Germans rushing through Poland.
Snow, mixed with freezing rain,
falls hard on the roof of an unheated barracks in Auschwitz,
filled with men and boys in pajamas.
It sounds not unlike the far-off thunder of the radio in the commandant’ s house,
the angry voice of the Fuhrer.
Snow, descending from the sky like shaved ice, on a brittle day,
5 maybe 8 degrees.
It covers the makeshift roadblocks in the streets of Warsaw,
making little mountains — so pure on the outside but fetid, rotten, corrupt beneath the fine powder.
This snow,
this ice falling to the ground,
sounds like Russian boots jumping over the mountains.
Rain in Gdansk,
a fine mist,
the smell of the sea.
It covers the streets, where men whisper things that will someday be heard
and old women fall on their knees to pray the Rosary.
This rain,
it smells of freedom.
Losing Armies (dignity)
May 1945, the occupying forces in Norway surrenders, a flag
is lowered another one hoisted. The occupiers’ commandant
hand his revolver to the man from the home front, there is
dignity. The enemy now prisoners, go back to their barracks
and wait to be skipped home to their country.
Another war, in the Middle East 70 years later, the occupiers
leave in the night unseen by the masses, they too have lost
but pretend they are victors. No dignity, only an unspoken
sense of dishonor. And the soldiers, of the vanquished army,
will be demobbed, given medals and sacrifices are forgotten.
Vistas this morning blessings from above
Feeling the spirit, filled with his love
Glorious color words cannot describe
Orange or maybe apricot feast for the eyes
Blue/Black ink clouds stood still
At attention for the commandant review
He found them in perfection
No change he would have made
Gave his command for the continuance
Of the grand and stately parade
Birds in flight a swallow,
Three crow just looking around
Observe the scene of glory
Not uttering a noisy sound
As the earth inches around
The day has to begin with a bound
How I long to hold on to these moments
All the way to the end of what promises to be
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