(In Donizetti's opera "Don Pasquale",
Ernesto longs for his darling.)
How magical the light
of this mid-April night!
The eastern sky is pale,
the moon has dropped her veil!
How all the world's at peace!
It's a night for caprice,
for the mystery of love:
stars are smiling above!
How dawn's first light is warming
the dew which now is forming!
I hear the river gently hum,
'Love, why don't you come?'
When I'm finally asleep,
oh, then how you will weep!
But once across the stream,
I cannot be redeemed!
As new life is thronging,
I'm dying here of longing!
Why, cruel child, oh why
do you leave me to die?
The story of revolution
the glory of Che
The fury of wander
a doctor’s foray
Silver spoon of his birth
the high noon of choice
A tune peasants cling to
that force in his voice
Daring insurrection
then falling from grace
Each stalling acceptance
a rebel’s embrace
His legend in khaki
a friend to the weak
Unbending in spirit
— both joyous and bleak
(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)
O Lord of mercy, hear my call
For Ernesto and Gladys, who give their all.
In Christ’s own footsteps, may they tread,
With hearts of kindness, hands outspread.
Grant them compassion, deep and true,
To lift each spirit, to heal, renew.
May empathy bloom like a flower rare,
In their open hearts, a gentle prayer.
Bless their giving, pure and bright,
Their love of family, steadfast light.
Let generosity’s hand extend,
To those in need, a constant friend.
O Lord, enfold them in Your grace,
With peace that none can displace.
In Christ's name, may they always be
Guided by love’s eternity.
Amen.
Ernesto and Gladys, guiding light,
Took me in with hearts so bright.
In their warm home, a refuge found,
Love and kindness always abound.
At youth's tender stage, I arrived,
With open arms, they strived to thrive.
Nurtured me, like a blooming tree,
Their care and wisdom set me free.
Through life's twists and turns, they stood,
Guiding, shielding, understood.
Ernesto's laughter, Gladys' grace,
In their embrace, I found my place.
With every trial, they were there,
Easing burdens, showing care.
Their strength and warmth, a steady guide,
In their home, I learned to stride.
Ernesto and Gladys, pillars true,
Shining examples, pure and through.
Forever grateful, my heart's a sea,
For the love they shared so selflessly.
I saw your grandmother
in an old black and white photo
it was in a silver frame,
she was buck naked in a Buick,
I thought: 'Hey you.’
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience;
you had a pic of the killer
Ernesto (Che) Guevara
on your T,
he looked like me
and I said, ‘Hey you.’
Behind old photographs
all our secret lives
remain radioactive.
At the funeral home
I watch you enter the flames,
saw silver frames melting
and I thought: ‘Hey you.’
E-ssential
R-egards
N-icely
E-mploy
S-ensible
T-opic
O-f
V-erse
E-xpressing
R-emarkable
Z-est
O-f
S-ublime
A-crostic
Topic: Birthday of Ernesto Verzosa (December 28)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
I saw you grandma,
you were buck naked
in a Buick
and I thought 'hey you’.
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show,
you wore a pic
of the killer Ernesto Guevara
on your T -
I thought 'hey you’.
Behind old photographs
secret lives
remain radio-active
there is fall-out.
I saw you in a fishy tale
making out with hippy waves;
I thought 'hey'.
In the funeral home
a portrait of you
silver frame.
Hey, grandma!
I hear your silver laughter
see the rainbows,
the flowers.
Hear a silver song or two
as you enter the flames,
the silver flames.
'Hey you'.
I saw your grandma
she was buck naked
in a Buick
and I thought 'hey you’.
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience.
You wore a pic
of the killer Ernesto Guevara
on your T -
I thought 'hey you’.
Behind old photographs
secret lives
remain radio-active
there is fall-out.
I saw you in a fishy tale
about sleeping under the waves
and I thought 'hey'.
At a funeral home
you look out from
a self-portrait and its silver frame
I watch you enter the flames,
the silver flames.
'Hey you'.
‘One has to grow hard but without ever losing tenderness.’
I did not know that my hero was a sex god as well
But he wrote The Motorcycle Diary without any Zen
‘Every day People straighten up the hair, why not the heart?’
Never contemplate a revolution on a bad hair day
So he sported an iconic bandana to dress for a war
‘Don't Shoot I'm Che I'm worth more to you alive than dead!’
A bullet reaches as far as the range of a shell
Revolution rises from residue to the living
‘Democracy represents the dictatorship of the exploiting classes’
No opium for the masses and the jungle for a home
Pistol in belt tongue in cheek and always controversial
‘Better to die standing than to live on your knees’
He lived by the sword for the benefit of ploughshares
A doctor turned renegade marxist Central American style
‘We have no right to believe that freedom can be won without struggle’
Justice does not appear without shadows from Nowhere
He killed fewer people in battle than Trump or Obama
10th February 2020
All sentences in quotation marks by Ernesto Che Guevara
E-agerly
R-ead
N-ifty
E-xpression
S-o
T-he
O-pen
T-hinking
R-eally
I-dentifies
N-iceness
I-n
D-elightful
A-crostic
D-enotation
Topic: Birthday of Ernesto DJ Trinidad (January 26)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
E-rase
R-ainy
N-ight
E-xpecting
S-un
T-o
O-pen
C-ool
E-arly
R-ays
E-ndorsing
Z-enith
O-pportunity
Topic: Birthday of Ernesto L. Cerezo, Jr (September 28)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
White Eagle
On my walk, I saw a big, white eagle with an enormous
wingspan, flying low and in circles as it was looking for
Something in the bush landscape. It the steadfast
the gaze of a seraph that had to judge angst ridden souls
which claimed the meant no harm when they had sinned,
it had been with humour and fairness.
It flew higher and in wider circles till it disappeared and
blended in with the afternoon sky.
Back home I told Ernesto I had seen a white eagle, he had
never seen one, though it was a pity I didn`t have a rifle
to shoot it, His Maria, was more severe, said I had seen an angel,
crossed herself, wore a shawl over a greying hair and
Went to mass. Ernesto and I went to the bar; he told regulars
I had seen an angel; they kidded me greatly
At home, in the night, sitting by the fire – spring evening
can be chilly- where I live, seeing the flapping fire wings
of burning aromatic olive wood, I said to myself; wouldn’t
be nice if Maria was right?
The Wind Carries His Name.
They shot him down,
silencing a man of flesh and bone.
Though as the bullets tore through him,
the wind carried his name.
Far across the weary fields,
high above the stubborn peaks,
over the blood soaked streams,
the wind carried his name.
They shot him down,
silencing a man of flesh and bone.
Yet the wind carried his name,
to you and to me,
to them and to us.
They shot him down,
but we still say his name,
as we catch it on the breeze.
Still they try to shoot him down,
to silence a man of flesh and bone.
But the wind cannot be stilled,
and the wind carries his name.
"Che"
(For Ernesto Guevara)
It was forty-six years ago today
that the Supreme Court issued its decree:
You should know whatever you have to say
may land you in jail, but your lawyer’s free,
assuming you are indigent, of course.
All men have the right to an attorney
and their confessions can’t be made by force.
They’re entitled to be held silently.
Thus Ernesto Miranda’s conviction
was overturned, since he was never told.
However, Earl Warren’s benediction,
though it set a precedent, did not hold.
Arizona simply tried him again,
and he became a prison denizen.
Every time I think of you
it eats at me inside.
No matter how far the distance,
it seems your always on my mind.
Picking at my thoughts and dreams
I've got nothing left to hide.
Leave me to my solace.
Get the hell out of my mind!
Stop telling me you love me,
when its true you never cared.
Proven by the way
you just upped and disappeared.
Their has to be a lesson here.
If I wait I'm sure to find.
That everything you've put me through
will help me out in time.
Till then forget you ever met me,
it shouldn't be to hard.
Lies are what your good at -
and breaking peoples hearts.
So next time you hear the rain
stare up and think of me.
Remember what I told you babe;
this time you cut too deep.
Ernesto Prince
It was time to say goodbye.
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