Virgil Chabre
                                      Favorite Poems

John Hershman

A Strong Male Rain

Menacing dark clouds
Navajo rain fell over red canyons
Lightning to breathe white fear
. . . Thunder followed . . .
and somewhere nearby is a Jewish Kugelblitz.

I knew the rain storm was coming
The air danced with wet sand off golden dunes
The horse began to get excited
from the whispers of rolling thunder in the distance
I had a small phobia of thunderstorms.

Slowly he crawled across the sky, angry
he's large and bumpy with thick strapping gray muscles
This storm cloud was male, that's what Grandma says
"When the clouds gather anger they cry thunder and rain,
this is the male rain."

The sudden winds kicked up sand into my eyes, I blinked
In a drying puddle from yeserday's storm I see Darcy's face
Darcy is a Jewish girl from Phoenix
She's a friend who's also afraid of the male rain
her brother Ean brought on her fears.

Grandma brought on my fear of storms
She told us kids to sit still and don't talk during a storm
or we'd get struck by lightning for disobeying
When Darcy was young, she used to sit at the window
and watch the lightning show during monsoon season.

Ean walked to his sister by the window
He grinned his teen-age teeth and said
"You know if you stand too close to the window,
a Kugelblitz will get you."
"A Kugelblitz?" she asked questioningly.

"Yeah, a ball of lightning to chase you."
She never watched the light show again
Instead during stormy nights, she silently cried in bed
Little Jewish tears added to the monsoon's rain
She told me this story one rainy night when we were alone.

I told her about the male rain and what not to do during a storm
She told me about Ean and his sadistic tale of the Kugelblitz
I guess Jews and Navajos aren't all that different
We were both afraid of thunderstorms
We had other past storms we were afraid of too,
She had the Holocaust
And I had America.

...Lightning flashed...Thunder followed...
I began whipping my horse trying to escape the storms.

Roy A. Chavez

 

Coffee for Two

 

This war isn’t yours or mine

Nor our fathers’

But we are

Pawns on kings’ boards

It hurts to know

We will never meet

Because a bullet has hit

The center of our souls

And the dreams of traveling

Free as birds

Are passing toward

An unknown place in time

It’s sad to know

We never will share the songs

Our parents sang in summertime

That we’ll never gather

On the beaches of friendship

And see the moon with its melancholy

Or dawn’s colors and get drunk

To the sound of our hearts

Blue Tattoo

 

On each arm

a seven-digit number.

It hurts a little

as the flesh is pricked.

Blue fog

Men are made to run barefoot

on blue iced snow at dawn.

Hydrogen cyanide.

Bluish pellets of Zyklon B gas,

Effective in large rooms.

Men, women, children, babies,

Stripped, crowded,

packed into the chamber.

Blue fog.

Families holding hands

stiffened in death,

no room to fall down.

It is difficult

to tear them apart

to empty the chamber

for the next load

for more blue tattoos.

    -Lyn Lifshin




Think Like a Tree

Soak up the sun
Affirm life's magic
Be graceful in the wind
Stand tall after a storm
Feel refreshed after it rains
Grow strong without notice
Be prepared for each season
Provide shelter to strangers
Hang tough through a cold spell
Emerge renewed at the first signs of spring
Stay deeply rooted while reaching for the sky
Be still long enough to
hear your own leaves rustling.

Karen I. Spragg


The Rose That Grew From Concrete


Did u hear about the rose 
that grew from a crack
in the concrete
Proving nature's laws wrong  
It learned to walk
Without having feet
It learned 2 breathe fresh air
Long live the rose
That grew from concrete
When no one else even care

-Tupac Shakur





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