Gem's Poetry Blog

Osiris or The Flight in Egypt by Jacques Prevert

It's war it's summer Already summer still war And the isolated desolated city Smiles still smiles Smiles smiles just the same With its sweet look of summer Smiles sweetly on those who love each other It's war and it's summer A man and a woman Walk in a museum Their steps are the only steps in this deserted museum desert This museum is the Louvre This city is Paris And the freshness of the world Is sound asleep there A guard awakes hearing the steps Leans on a button and falls back in his dream Meanwhile in its stone niche appears The wonder of Egypt standing in its own light The statue of Osiris living in the dead wood

Osiris Ou La Fuite En Égypte

Nicaragua in a Voice by Francisco Aragón

More than the poems —the fruits that sang their juices; dolls, feverish, dreaming of nights,

city streets—for me it was the idle chat between the poems: cordial, intimate almost… like a river's murmur

as if a place—León, Granada—could speak, whistle, inhabit a timbre…as if, closing

Dear Ruben,

There’s a blue bird in my head, and

when it sings, it screeches.

When it eats, it gorges.

It flaps its anxious wings,

scatters thoughts,

takes a shit on my beliefs,

blots my hopes, ruins dreams.

My blue bird

claws the inside of my skull,

clings to nerves,

punctures my brain.

 I have a blue bird in my head, and

it’s too strong to be contained.

When it grows old, it bursts into flames,

Incinerates my senses, but

I can still hear myself scream.

From the ashes, it is born again.

I can smile if it’s a baby

I am strong if my blue bird is weak.

But its feathers grow,

Its beak sharpens.

It’s only a matter of time before

its whimpers turn to shrieks.

Only a matter of time

before my blue bird feeds on me.

Dear Ruben,

I have a blue bird in my head

and I must set it free.  

What’s a skull, if not a cage?

What’s a gun, if not a key?

-Gem Blackthorn

This is a response to Ruben Dario’s short story “El Pajaro Azul” (The Blue Bird). 

My father passed away on December 30th. He was terminally ill. His favorite author was Ruben Dario. I was looking through Dario’s book, Azul, for a line or a quote I could use for my father’s lapel once he died and I found “El Pajaro Azul,” which is a story about depression and suicide. When I read it, it had been about two weeks of me being in the hospital with my dad for 8-12 hours a day, slowly watching him die, and the ordeal was taking an emotional toll on me, which led to this poem.

New poem.

by Robert Frost

My poem, MIAMI THE TRAIN STATION, is included in Livina Press' Homeland edition.

This is the summary by the editor-in-chief:

With so much hate, violence, death, and destruction in the world, I wanted to give others an outlet to express their thoughts and feelings while also supporting a very important cause. The use of “Homeland” for this issue is multifaceted. It can be a reflection on belonging or the feeling of when “home” is taken away. It can also be used to express the frustration and feeling of betrayal from others within your homeland.

Inside this issue you will find works from people from across the world sharing their personal experiences, thoughts, and laying their emotions bare. Everyone has their own take on “homeland” and what it means to them–a person, a place, a feeling. It is an honor to share it all with you.

Auguries of Innocence

by William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage

Puts all Heaven in a rage.

A dove house fill'd with doves and pigeons

Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.

A dog starv'd at his master's gate

Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misus'd upon the road

Calls to Heaven for human blood.

Each outcry of the hunted hare

A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,

A Cherubim does cease to sing.

The game cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight

Does the rising Sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl

Raises from Hell a human soul.

...

He who respects the infant's faith

Triumphs over Hell and Death.

The child's toys and the old man's reasons

Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,

Shall never know how to reply.

He who replies to words of doubt

Doth put the light of Knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known

Came from Caesar's laurel crown,

Nought can deform the human race

Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow

To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.

A riddle or the cricket's cry

Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile

Make lame Philosophy to smile.

He who doubts from what he sees

Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the Sun and Moon should doubt,

They'd immediately go out.

To be in a passion you good may do,

But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state

Licens'd, build that nation's fate.

The harlot's cry from street to street,

Shall weave Old England's winding sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,

Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn

Some to misery are born.

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,

Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie

When we see not thro' the eye

Which was born in a night to perish in a night,

When the Soul slept in beams of light.

God appears and God is light

To those poor souls who dwell in night,

But does a human form display

Former Poet Laureate of the United States Billy Collins has a new poetry collection. Water, Water: Poems by Billy Collins is slated for release on November 19.

The speaker in Water, Water is a man who knows the end is near — both in the broad, existential sense of climate change and in the personal, inevitable sense of aging. Yet, from his place on the shoreline, the view is too dazzling to be overrun by dread. There’s a sense of peace, a quiet nostalgia, that permeates the book. Life well-lived, days still worth anticipating.

Reading this collection was a welcomed distraction from intense current events.