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"Mi Querido Viejo"

Erin Johnson hit another one out of the park with her version of "Mi Querido Viejo" at the weekly Little Grill Collective open mic Thursday, April 15th. She then treated us to two more songs. Usually she gives us one and leaves our tongues wagging until the next chance we have to hear her angelic voice.

MI QUERIDO VIEJO
Es un buen tipo mi viejo
que anda solo y esperando
tiene la tristeza larga
de tanto venir andando.
Yo lo miro desde lejos
pero somos tan distintos
es que creció con el siglo
con tranvía y vino tinto
viejo mi querido viejo
ahora ya camina lento
como perdonando el viento
yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
el tiene los ojos buenos
y una figura pesada
la edad se le vino encima
sin carnaval ni comparsa
yo tengo los años nuevos
y el hombre los años viejos
el dolor lo lleva dentro
y tiene historias y sin tiempo
viejo mi querido viejo
ahora ya caminas lento
como perdonando el viento
yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
soy tu silencio
y tu tiempo
yo soy tu sangre mi viejos
soy tu silencio y tu tiempo

Two Silly Country Songs

Two silly country songs
. Greeted me this morning
All the sorrow,
. All the wrongs
They put me into mourning.

Both songs you used to sing
. (You sang them just for me?)
Both joys you used to bring
. A sea of tears I see.
March 31, 2010

The Woman Who Wrote Shakespeare

Expanding Earth

"A Goomba Christmas"

Salvatore wakes
He wakes to Christmas morn
Mass occurred but hours before
Where he prayed to Our Fair Lady.

The tree he's hung with Maria . .
The saintly Maria
(No . . she just wanted him to?)
He cut it down . .
(Or just wanted to)
He could not have
It's plastic
It's needles white like snow.

She decorated
Maria the saint
Who gave him (just) six children
(He wanted more,
. . But she was sore.)
Now they sleep apart.

Uncle Tony's stopping by
He always does
He brings the Christmas cheer:
. . Turkeys, hams, stuffing and fish
. . Whiskey, wine, and beer.

The miscreants
Surround the tree
Sal, Vinny, Enzo, Sonny
That's the boys
The girls, at least
Wait their turn.

'When I was your age'
Papa shouts
'We were lucky to have presents!
All we had was love for each other.'

The boys,
They roll their eyes
They've heard it all before
'He tells these stories
From Ancient Rome!
We studied that in school.'

'Save the paper,
Fold it up,
We'll use it again next year!'

But they're too busy
Ripping it
To hear what Papa said
Too busy ripping and clawing
To get to the gold
That marks our Christmas Day.

Each new thing discovered
Tossed aside for the next
Barely a 'Thank you, Papa!'
Is heard.

'Make room for the girls
You wolves!'
As he clears way
'Salvatore and Vincent, I say
Enzo and Santino
Please act like human beings.'

'Papa'
Says Patricia, so sweetly
'We'll wait till after supper
Won't we Anna?'
Who shakes her little curls
'Oh, but yes we will, Papa!'

'Such good girls I raised'
Sighs Papa
'But the boys, Madonna Santa!'

Just then a car
A car pulls up
A car stuff to the gills
'Uncle Tony!!'
The boys all yell
And rush out on the walk.

'Go wake Mamma'
He tells the girls
As he joins the boys outside.

'Antonio!'
He shouts
'Buon Natale'
To the man who makes it bright.

Ah, the food
The packages
The boxes of goods he brings.
'Where, oh where' he wonders
'Could he find such things?'

Mamma stumbles
In her robe
The girls tug at her hands
'Look, Mamma!' they cry
'How beautiful the tree!'
'Yes, my darlings, so lovely'
She sighs
'Come help me with the meal.'

(a work in-progress)

"When a Poet Shifts His Muse"

When a poet shifts his Muse
. Must he tell someone?
Must he make an announcement,
. Announce it to the World?

Does he owe it to his Public
. Who hang on every word
Of his doomed romances
. His fatal love affairs?

Should they have the chance
. To steer him clear of trouble
Have they suffered him enough
. Would they have it another way?
March 26, 2010

"I Cast My Question to the Wind"

(or, "Such Beauty Calls This Home?")

She may say I asked
. Asked just who you were
True, so true, I asked
. But asked it not of her.

I cast my question to the Wind
. Exposed myself to Sun
My hope could not begin
. Without answer from The One.

'Is this Your creation,
. Is it meant to be on Earth?
Not miscalculation,
. Not some virgin birth?'

Next I asked the statue
. That graces public square
Fine Beauty put on view
. Sustaining every glare.

'Is this a friend of yours
. Did you meet in Rome
Or was it on these shores
. Such beauty calls this home?'
March 20, 2010