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Favorite Poems
SONNET 9
My body is a message writ in Braille
Within which you may read your destiny:
Thought you should venture forth, you cannot
fail
If you remember what you read
on me.
When you'll have run your fingers through my
hair,
You will have read how
tenderness is born;
When you'll have lain my calf
or elbow bare,
They will have
taught you tears, and how to mourn.
You soon will learn your forces to conserve,
As
I can offer but a sparing kiss;
That joy can kill, frustration can preserve
Is
what my lips and tongue will teach by
this.
Cry with the angels, "Holy! Holy! Holy!"
Remember that I love you, and you solely.
Christopher M. Wicks
From
"New Sonnets, Bilingual and Otherwise," 2005
The Weight Of Sorrow
A lonely man,
Sits,
At the edge of town,
Pensively
Wringing his hands,
Searching for a roof
On a cold day.
This solitary man,
Accompanied by a loaf
Of pauperized bread,
Wretched
crumb
And lacking in nurturing
wheat,
Endures the shadow of his
life.
A forgotten man
Curled
In his urban pain,
Wrinkled,
By the weight of sorrow.
Efrain
M. Diaz-Horna
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