Poems from Annette M Velasquez
High up in the mountains
on a clear, starry night,
far behind me is the gleaming
of the city's harsh light.
Before me lies a valley
clothed...
This black and white photo
there-
on my wall
is of you,
Mother
at 15 or 16
taken during
the height of WWII.
In your life
the devastation...
" The Language of Life"
is one of my favorite books
and if I were a teacher
of Contemporary American Literature
or of Creative Writing
I...
On television the newscaster
speaks the grim truth-
that things have come to this:
police " competent" only insofar
as their picking up of...
Laden with thoughts,
like ripened fruit
heavily hanging
upon bent boughs
memories weigh
and must somehow
attain release
from the tree
that...