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DIPTYCH
Calling To Me Coquí
Inspiration for Sue Dunham's “Coquí”
 NYC 1970

Borinquen nights are wet from rain,
In dreams I hear him sing again:
Coquí, Coquí, 
Calling to me, Coquí. 

Somewhere amid the leaves unseen,
Mestizo of yellow, brown and green.
Coquí, Coquí,
Calling to me, Coquí.

The magic octave of his song
Serenades me all night long.
Coquí, Coquí,
Calling to me, Coquí.

Nowhere else but upon my isle
Does his enchanting call beguile:
Coqui, Coquí,
Calling to me, Coqui. 

Cold and distant New York I roam
But one clear music calls me home.
Coqui, Coquí,
Calling to me, Coquí.

From Yunque forest he calls to me:
“Boricua brother, one day be free!”
Coquí, Coquí,
Calling to me, “Be free!”
SAN JUAN 2010

Borinquen nightmare of cocaine:
I hear his ring tone in the rain, 
Coquí, Coquí,
Calling to me, Coquí. 

Somewhere behind the pool between
The flamboyán and coke machine,
Coquí, aquí,
My dealer, come to me.

Some magic powder white and strong
To keep me dreaming all night long,
Coqui, Coqui,
Deal me my coke aqui.

Nowhere else but upon my isle
Does your “Colombia White” beguile.
Coqui, Coqui,
Coca from my Coqui.

No New York streets for me to roam,
Mountains of powder here at home,
Coqui, Coqui,
Calling for you, Coquí.

On my cell phone he calls to me:
“Boricua bro, I can’t get free. 
Acá, allí,
They’re all calling for Coqui.”


    - Joe Pacheco
Coqui   by Sue Dunham   ArtPoems 2019
NO WORDS
    Inspired by Rebecca Sandbek’s "Vintage Indian Dolls"

Princeton, Penn and Pomona seek the seeds of my people
Like Gila monsters stinging patiently for blood

No words name the rock my mother’s back rode to my birth
Stories of my soul are desert winds talking to the beasts of night

Yet, and yet again, you found a place for me, vintage little Indian girl
Pinned to canyon metaphors photo-shopped for Arizona Highways

All day, hot desert wind freezes eyelids shut to the sun
All night, desert cold haunts ears full of Coyote talk

Stories of my body glisten, archived artifacts illuminated by artificial light
Tales and myths of happy hunters, fearless fishermen, angelic squaws

But no words explain my image hanging on the wall, no words
Tell a story of how no words came to save me


    - Gary McLouth
Vintage Indian Dolls   by Rebecca Sandbek   ArtPoems 2019
The Metropolis
    Inspiration for Carrie Moloney's "Disconnected"

The skyline is a smog of dissolutions
Don’t take the bait
For it’s a hook to your soul

In this metropolis 
You must be a predator 
Or you become the prey

In this virtual reality
There is only remnants 
Of what was once real

Sirens, horns, chatter
And cellphone waves are in 
constant sound and vibration 

Plastic people torn asunder-
Digital zombies with artificial limbs

Connected to screens
Disconnected from the creator
In a network of snapshots
From social media fiends
A food desert 
A Petrie dish of egomaniacs
A selfie society
Swiping cashless currency

The eye in the capstone
Captures the stench
Rising from the smoldering heat

Headquartered at 666 Fifth Avenue
Where the corporate puppet master-creates the microchip
The clones are implanted willingly

All that’s left-
Of what was natural
Is an Orwellian Distopia
Where trash bags of human flesh 
Lay dormant on the curb!


    - Edwin Moses
Disconnected   by Carrie Moloney   ArtPoems 2019
Portal
    Inspired by Babs Snyderman’s ”Portal"


Inside the wide eyes of night
when surreal blurs with real,
a firefly lights my way to the
edge of eternity, dims and dies.


Abandoned, suspended in time,
afraid to move forward or back,
I float on shimmers of stardust
surrounded by my yesterdays.


Pixies swing above me on a 
tangle of moonstones tied to
heaven’s key, tempting me
to grab it as if forbidden fruit.


Suddenly a portal spirals open.
Angels and gods wait to greet.
Please not yet, I solemnly pray.
Let it be but a dream for now.


    - Marilyn Mecca
Portal   by Babs Snyderman   ArtPoems 2019
The Price of Freedom
Inspiration for Lawrence Massing’s
“Bury My Head? I cannot Ignore 1 in 10! 2019"

Blind to degradation 
That I couldn’t have imagined,
Tell me that it’s just a dream
This doesn’t really happen.

Lost without a trace of hope 
Without a bed to sleep,
Children barely living
Given minimum to eat.

Their hands, they move so quickly
Making rugs and common gifts,
But what’s the drive behind them
When there’s nothing at the end.

Think we get a bargain
Ignorant to the expense,
One move at a time
But we never see their steps.

Watching sorrow and defeat
These animals in clothing
Selling more than just their souls,
So they can make a living.

Help us all to see the truth
To fight these wild beasts,
No more children harmed
Paying debts for families.

Let their voices all be heard
Their echoes of hard labor,
Society’s been broken
With blinded eyes and favors.

I am only one person
But how dare I stay quiet,
Life has got to mean more 
Than the simple things I purchase.

- Geneva Kelly

Just Now
    Inspired by Ronnie Walter's "Answering The Call"


Like burst seeds,

or comets with sizzling tails,

the colors fling themselves

from palette pools of rich

magenta, indigo, azure and lime;

create crossed currents

of lush lavender, salmon;

embed themselves

-never restrained

by an artist's hand or brush-- 

spread like fresh born quarks,

laughing into this

awesome moment

of being:

"I am!"


    - Chris Godwin
Answering the Call   by Ronnie Walter   ArtPoems 2019