First Lines Second Thoughts - Back When We Were Grownups

Once upon a time,
there was a woman
who discovered
she had turned
into the wrong person.   

- Anne Tyler

First Lines Second Thoughts is a look at the first lines of well known literary works.
On second thought, do these opening words stand alone as poetry?

Renounce Guilt, Find Divinity

by Beth Berube

Mexicans have cultivated a guilt free and blameless approach to life. Even the Spanish language supports this philosophy. For example, if I was looking through my purse or around the house for my keys but couldn’t find them anywhere, I would probably call a friend and complain, “I lost my @#$%^ keys. I feel so stupid!” That’s the gringa rationale in me, I suppose. In Spanish however, one would say “Se perdian las llaves,” ˗˗ my keys have lost themselves. They – the keys – are the stupid ones. In this scenario, I am the hapless victim of my keys inability to find their way home. Now that is divine grace at its finest.

Let’s say the quarter panel of my car is smashed in. The conversation with the insurance adjuster might go something like this…“That’s right. I got into my car this morning and turned on the ignition. Before I could even take a sip of my coffee, it hurled itself into that fire hydrant over there. Bam! No it’s not a Prius. My Jeep did seem a little depressed when I parked her in the garage last night. I guess I just didn’t recognize the signs.” How liberating would that be? Anti-anxiety medication and self-help book sales would plummet.

Our south of the border neighbors have an innate understanding that grudges and finger pointing, especially towards them, are counter productive – at least where day-to-day annoyances are concerned. Maybe that is why their dance, music and celebrations are so joyful.

(Beth Berube - our very own Erma Bombeck - writes short, humorous stories about a big city gringa who relocates to a small town on the Pacific coast of Mexico. You can check out Barra Beth's stories at www.barrabethsblog.com. Her writing has also been featured in El Ojo del Mar.)

Me Acerco y Me Retiro

Me acerco y me retiro:
¿quién sino yo hallar puedo
a la ausencia en los ojos
la presencia en lo lejos?

Del desprecio de Filis,
infelice, me ausento.
¡Ay de aquel en quien es
aun pérdida el desprecio!

Tan atento la adoro
que, en el mal que padezco,
no siento sus rigores
tanto como el perderlos.

No pierdo, al partir, sólo
los bienes que poseo,
si en Filis, que no es mía,
pierdo lo que no pierdo.

¡Ay de quien un desdén
lograba tan atento,
que por no ser dolor
no se atrevió a ser premio!

Pues viendo, en mi destino,
preciso mi destierro,
me desdeñaba más
porque perdiera menos.

¡Ay! ¿Quién te enseño, Filis,
tan primoroso medio:
vedar a los desdenes
el traje del afecto?

 A vivir ignorado
de tus luces, me ausento
donde ni aun mi mal sirva
a tu desdén de obsequio.


- Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz


One of the greatest poets that Mexico has produced, Juana Inés de Asbaje y Ramírez de Santillana (1648-1695) is also the face that you see peering back at you on your 200 peso note. Sor Juana is featured here to mark the bicentennial of Mexico's Independence on September 15, 1810.

When They Came

When they came
they rode trucks
along the main
road of my youth
they held bayonets
stiffly against
their faces
tongues sticking out
like barbed wire

we dared not look
for long
we lived on
in the nightmare
thinking we couldn't
govern a country -

we couldn't hold
our own
until the troops came -
men laughing hyena-like
blocking the roads
with eyes of steel
lips ribbed with metal

I watch from
this distance
nurturing fables
one after another
all fragments
of a life

- Cyril Dabydeen

When They Came is featured within these cyber pages as it evokes memories of the ongoing struggle in Tenacatita. The Bar None Group is grateful that Mr. Dabydeen has allowed us to reprint When They Came for our readers. The poem is used with permission of the author and is included in the author's 1979 collection of poetry called This Planet Earth (Borealis Press).

Yours: A New York Poem

I spent the afternoon exploring
As much of you as I could
Feeding on your flesh
With my lips and tongue
Illuminated my soul

We both glistened this morning
As we crossed over the threshold of our desires
I had now become yours
You held me close and told me to release my fears
You would be my dream-catcher

Yesterday we didn’t exist
Yet I allowed you to seduce me
And I don’t often fall
And I don’t often give up myself
To be led by the moment

Your scent, your taste
So exotic
The paradigm of many cultures
That you can call your own
Confident and sensitive
In equal parts

I averted my eyes
When I saw you rise before me
A schoolboy’s wanderlust
Taken to new heights
Cursory words fumbled over my tongue
As I was drawn to you

You didn’t resist
And you didn’t dismiss
My initial attempts
To brush up against you
To feel the power of your aura
To bathe in you’re radiant glow

You entered my heart
First as a silhouette of brilliance
While the setting sun behind you
Framed for me an image I’ll never let go

Without any effort
You enveloped me
The deeper I got within you
Secure from the world
Beyond these red sheets

You took me in your arms
As I took you in my heart
How long does a one night stand last
When you fall in love?

I want to love you
For more than what you are
I want to love you like a dream
I’ve always had

You are giving
Without asking in turn
You are giving
When you, yourself still hurt

I see and touch your scars
I kiss them gently
Knowing that I can’t bring back
What was

I raise my eyes from your stomach
Find you smiling down on me
I am here to help you heal
If that is what you want from me

First Lines Second Thoughts - The American Crisis

These are the times that try men's souls:
The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will,
in this crisis,
shrink from the service of his country;
but he that stands by it now,
deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.

- Thomas Paine

First Lines Second Thoughts is a look at the first lines of well known literary works.
On second thought, do these opening words stand alone as poetry?

Labor Day

The rains that played havoc with your plans were due here by dawn
There were no puddles nor drops when the day began
Pure folly to think that the bales of hay would be brought in under dry skies
The farmers plight is to out-maneuver the weather
A moment passes as the east wind blows foul and the deluge commences

One hundred and twenty seven bales would need to be wrapped
All would need to be toted from one hundred acres
Before nine
Coffees were inhaled, rain-slickers applied
Faces lined with defeat head out into the storm
The sun would not rise on this day

Tractored paths give way to muddy ruts as the hay-wagons fall into well worn grooves
More moisture than the ground could absorb the trail now a rushing river
Instructions, directions compete with the sound of rain hitting plastic
Diesel engines strain as they idle, straining louder with each load
Hitching and unhitching wagons opening and closing gates
Hand signals replace the unheard voices that were greeted with shrugs

Seventy-three head of cattle penned in a pasture watch the passing parade
Water may be everywhere but they are cut off from their source
The hours pass, the rains ebb and flow, the temperature rises and falls and rises and falls again
Fences must be mended, vehicles must be towed, empty wagons must be moved
There can be no lunch for the dripping crew until there is first water for the herd

There are no quiet moments, no time for reflection
Eyes strain against the rain, the sodden foot moves gingerly on the clutch
A loss in focus could mean the loss of a digit, a limb or a morning of toil for not with an upended cart
Monet would not paint his grainstack haystacks in this tempest (though he had a penchant for the morn)
A touch of frost was all that he could endure, all that he could immortalize
Brushstrokes of despair, colored gray, paint this pastoral canvas
A watercolor of frantic activity will not subside before the storm passes through

Mocking one and all the winds pick up as the chores wind down
Secure the gates, return the tractors to the barn and shed
Batten down the hatches they say at sea, on land it is lash down the barn doors before they blow
Tired, beaten but not defeated the wet and the weary exchange grins as they head in
The day is done, bales toted and wrapped, fences built and mended, cows free to roam and drink
Laughter fills the farmhouse as lunch delayed is now called supper and the sun breaks over the horizon.

Take Two

As I walk thru life
I live and learn
Through laughter and tears
I have created this being called me
Action, inaction and reaction
Dictate my course
Blowing with the wind
Lending an ear
Spewing hot air
Seeing what is not there
What is beyond
Feeling a moan from another
Caressing away the pain
Bringing someone to the edge
Taking them over
Leaving them behind
Better than when they were found
Anger and bitterness
To recede with the tides
The passing of time
What is recalled
Names etched in stone
Others in the heart
The chosen few inked in flesh
The forgotten
Scattered with the leaves of autumn
Words without purpose
Of forgotten regard
A full glass
and an empty bottle
Worn out soles
Kindred spirits
But always the promise
That tomorrow
we can start anew

From Love and Squalor

When your name is stolen from a book
it's easy to lift lines
I don't know if she knows it
or even if it matters

Looking up toward the stars
she asks for recognition
Closer than the distant heavens
she lives within my heart

I've told her from the first we met
when held within my arms
I'm never going to let you down
One promise I have kept

A Tiny Little Poem

If I started this letter on paper
each time it started in my head
I’d rustle as I walked
and the bed would float
in a sea of paper balls
from all my dreams

Katie Keys is a 30-something non-Indigenous Australian Brit currently living in London, UK. She Twitters a poem a day at www.twitter.com/tinylittlepoems. Katie's poem appears courtesy of the author and was first published online on August 31, 2010.

First Lines Second Thoughts — A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness,

In a Lunar Groove

No more music, only noise
Attempts to resuscitate
        With each new toy
Only frustration, the ego dance
Like the new toy, it doesn't last
Run to fly
           run for your life
 Leave my worries behind
Gather up & store
Live by the seashore
Barefoot in your sand
Naked in your healing sea
Laughter in your eyes
You welcomed me
Far from perfect you make me whole
Music again, joy to my soul
Glistening beaches
Mermaids, mermen
I long for your happy coast again

- Zanne Mack

(Zanne Mack is a talented musician from San Fransico. Along with her poems included here Zanne brings joy to us when she performs on stage, singing her own songs while evoking the ghosts of other talented souls. For a complete bio visit www.zannemack.com)