(Poem Dedicated To Women's History Month)
The spring flowers ranked distant third,
Because they cannot conceivably smile,
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Dulce amor, hoy es tu cumpleaños
No puedo darte
Regalos ostentosos,
Sin embargo, quiero pintar tus mejillas
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Brother Martin was assassinated at a very young age.
Intelligent and determined; he was a wise sage.
I am convinced that he is definitely the only man
In Heaven.
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(This poem is dedicated to the dreams of Martin Luther King Jr.)
We want Peace and Justice
We are not asking for too much
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How can we say that we still love each other
When we selfishly went the opposite ways?
You took the freeway and I, the skyways
How can we say that we care for each other
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I love you because
Of your long frog toes,
Your strong and gentle body,
Your great personality,
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A deranged person with a machine gun
Is a disaster waiting to happen.
A machine gun is a mass killing instrument.
No one should have one in an apartment.
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Too much violence in our schools
Too much violence in our streets
Too many bullies, too many fools
Own machine guns, deadly Uzis
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It is wonderful to see so many joyful faces,
To hear and experience the exchange of well wishes,
Among so many strangers and acquaintances.
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Let's, at least, attempt to go back,
Where nothing is white, nothing is black,
Where all things look different under the sun,
And all seem to enjoy the brightness of the moon.
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