For Penny!
I love you!!
The coins glowed. They twinkled and sparkled upon the wooden table. Fifteen gold pieces. The coins amounted to more wealth than I could earn in fifteen years. Twelve hour-long work days. Seven days a week. Could I really be blamed for wanting my share of wealth? I was starving. There was no future. The Great Depression was like a concrete blanket upon us all, smothering sparks of life. I had to feed myself. I had to survive. My fingers finally scooped up the abundant golden blossoms. They fell into my pocket. Clink. Clink. They weighed like a kilo of filthy, worm-infested manure. I walked away from the rotting brothel, and her.
– Ermisenda Alvarez
__picture it & writeby Ermilia |
image source: dreamworlds.ru
Dreams of a city
golden in Divinity
where we find our home
Teresa Marie 1/5/12 ©
image source: dreamworlds.ru
Dragon of red
among the dead
In caverns deep
your treasures keep
You demon spawn
from the beyond
From days old
collecting your gold
In abandon greed
with hasty speed
Your coffers swell
there in hell
Left wanting more
what you adore
Your every action
brings no satisfaction
When is no peace
for the wicked beast
From the dawn
until time’s gone
In the pit remain
trapped in your pain!
Teresa Marie 1/4/12 ©
I did not know who he was. The man held strange, rigid tools or weapons. Incoherent mumbling ran from his thin lips. His skin was blinding white, his eyes were a murky green. His gaze held a strange sadness, sadness for me. There was barely any dirt on his bodies yet I was covered. Who was he? He did not belong here. His frail fingers reached for me and I hissed, smacking his hand away. My people told me how my father had been one of these white monsters, that was why my eyes were blue like the sky. My people had told me that the outsiders would try to steal me, they wanted to exploit the women of our tribe and defeat the men. I would defeat him instead.
– Ermisenda Alvarez
When they came here
Cortez and his men
searching for their treasure
those days back then
Legend of our tribe
says there were more
than the tribal elders
had ever seen before
It is the same
as other tribes stories
of the foreign conquerors
looking for their glories
In battle with people
for their treasured gold
they would take away
from young and old
All of the men
put up a fight
but they were many
as stars at night
You know the ending
of this sad tale
when they took all
and away did sail
After that our number
was reduced to few
and we became history
as their number grew.
Teresa Marie 10/16/11
This week’s submission for picture it & write at: http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/
My heart
I give
to you
To hold
your whole
life through
With all
the love
therein
That from
me you
win
It is
made of
pure gold
Or so
I have
been told
I hope
it gives
you pleasure
For you
hold all
its treasure
I give
to you
for free
And pray
that you
love me!
Teresa Marie 9/18/11
