Biography of Christine Natale
My biographical sketch, info, pix, videos, music and blogs are on Eons.com at:
I have the first two thirds of my poetry collection in the blog, as well as stories. I am planning to upload the last third soon.
Christine Natale's Works:
None yet. Any suggestions?
Christine Natale Poems
Not In Love
It is hard to write a love poem When you’re not in love. I long to sing of flowers of fire And burning stars above.
Rest easy my darling Though first snows are falling They’re early this year, yes I know Come back to your pillow
Ever since I was thirteen I have watched for you. I know, I have always known No mortal man could ever do or give
Northwest mist hides soft fir tree horizon. We drive around curves through cold violet gray. The day never really changes; A full day of morning.
Wedding at Cana
He looked into my eyes, the only part of me visible Beneath the heavy weight of veils and jewels I knew He was the only one who saw me tremble Both with fear and with happiness
Blues for Billie
You wrote your own blues, Billie Don’t need no one to tell you, lady Don’t need no one to show you, lady Don’t need no one to say it for you
Shakespeare For The Season
Shakespeare, for the season, is over, And so my own reason for being Here, where I cannot be sure I belong Except for the time I was needed.
A Child Dies
Some say that childhood is golden, As it well may be But I have seen the gold well hidden And racked by infant pain unbidden
Circle of Light
There is always a circle of golden around her In the depth of the winter, a midsummer glow Her presence illumines the terrible blackness Of midnight despair and lessens the woe.
Salome to the Head of John the Baptist
Ah, Johannes Do you not see me? I dance for you -
I thought that I was casual And could give my kisses free - That I could take him to my bed As the shoreline takes the sea.
Will there be heroes?
Will there be heroes When dawn breaks tomorrow? Will there be heroes When the sun comes again?
The Golden Land
My daughter runs along the sand, A golden kite string in her hand; She calls and waves along the shore Till I can’t see her anymore.
The Saint and Her Fool
She appears in the evening, young and lovely, Tracing the very edge of a womanhood That she will never know. She glides among the trees, singing a silent
In the Absence of Men
This peace is a remembrance
For future times when I myself
Am torn in two -
When the spirit of another invades my soul
And tears me from myself;
When passion storms arise
Within my womb
And there is nothing
But imagined death