"cristina" poems
Owen: Hey. You're awake.
Cristina: You didn't come home.
Owen: Yeah, there was a--
Cristina: A bus crash or a train crash or a patient crashed? Yeah. Right. Why are you staring at me?
Owen: Well, I'm weighing how upset you are and if I want to get into this.
Cristina: You do. You want to get into this...
Owen: I'm tired and it's late.
Cristina: ... with me. You know what? That's the point. It's always late, and it shouldn't be. And you should want to get into it with me but you don't. I mean, where are you?
Owen: I am-- I am here. For God sake. I'm right freakin' here. I'm home.
Cristina: No, you're not. ... You have to be honest with me because I am going crazy here. Do you, um, do you love me anymore?
Owen: It's not about if I--
Cristina: Owen, please answer the question.
Owen: I love you so much that it hurts.
Cristina: Okay. Well, okay, then. Then we can-- We can work on this. We can talk. You know, we-- We have to talk, because I cannot be like this anymore. (voice breaking) And I Mean it when I say that I'm going crazy, 'cause... (sighs) 'Cause that nurse Emily-- I mean, I-I accused her of sleeping with you.
Owen: You what?
Cristina: I'm-- I'm sorry. I just-- I mean, I feel like... My whole body feels like... Like you were cheating on me. And then you come home and you tell me that you love me, and I'm... I'm-- I'm relieved. I mean, I'm so relieved because--
Owen: Stop. Stop. I said I love you so much that it hurts.
Cristina: Okay.
Owen: I said... it hurts... to love you.
Cristina: Just say it.
Owen: I'm not cheating on you with Emily.
Cristina: Okay.
Owen: But I did cheat on you.
________________________________________________________
He said he loved her so much it hurts.
He said it hurts to love her.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
We set out to honor Mary
traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east
We walked, we rode the bus
entertained and enchanted by Cristina
applauding Ramon along the way.
Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship
rosaries and novena
we submitted petitions to Santiago
we laughed with San Serapio
From the grand and magnificent cathedrals
to the humblest village chapel
we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages.
We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims
making their way on foot and bicycle
at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality
they receive along the way
We picknicked alongside mountain streams
enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship
we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine
passing the pilgrims going the opposite way
we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern.
Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal
a remote village suspended in time and beauty
there on the mountain top we sat among the pines
where Mary had appeared.
We sat in silence, in awe and reverence
the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside
We prayed the rosary
It was, for most of us, a most special memory
From our bus we looked out at the mountains
the green and rolling farmland
at the rocky Atlantic coast
at the rios and the rias.
We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes
by candlelight and moonlight
and again in the brilliant sunshine
The voices and the church bells
carried across the plazas
enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism
It was at the grotto at Lourdes
with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall
with the holy water on my hands
that I felt Mary's presence
Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend
AVE MARIA
September, 2008
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
Winter walks beside me,
kisses my skin with frozen lips,
paves my path with ice,
whispers snowflakes,
tells me spring is dead.
Leafless trees scratch a molten sky.
A pale sun caught in gnarly branches
bleeds into the ground,
seeps to the roots of comatose trees.
Spring stirs, winter lied.
@Cristina Umpfenbach-Smyth 2011
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC
Smokey Edge, Georgia.
I Wait in the diner. Not long ago Whites Only.
Now filled with black folks.
Mom would say “persons of color,”
that would include the two Hispanic truckers
and the Chinese cook.
Mom said “don’t go, no need to”.
She’s never been.
Gives me the silent treatment
while murdering Chopin on tortured keys.
Cousin Ed slides into the booth.
Across from me he glistens sweat,
wipes his forehead, grins, squeezes my hand.
“Hi cousin Citygirl, “ and adds “Chocolate au lait”!
Mocking, or teasing, I don’t care.
“Ok, double espresso” I say.
Red on white No Trespassing sign rusts in the grass.
Vine assaulted shack is all what’s left of it,
the Juke Joint where grandpa played
banjo with a bottleneck slide,
making it screech and sing.
Where the women Bess sang and danced.
The one he talked about incessantly,
when he had forgotten who we were.
How he pressed into her, ****** her behind the joint,
how she smelled and laughed and rocked the blues,
how she put her lips to the glass of bathtub gin, just so.
Short crepuscule gives way to night. Mosquitos come thick.
“Listen up Citygirl, hear the sounds, ghost drums and strings.”
I hear grandpa’s banjo, the slide’s screech, Bess sings.
I smell the funk, the sweat, ripe heat, the Blues.
I put my arm around his waist, grind into him
I want him hard, in me, lick his sweat.
He pushes me away, “hear up Citygirl,
I‘m not grandpa and you aint no Bess.”
Cristina Umpfenbach-Smyth March 2012
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 3:24 PM UTC
THIS IS GOING TO BE A WORK COMPOSED BY ALL OF US. POETRY CAN BRING US TOGETHER. Comment the next lyric and I will post it with your name in parentheses.
Here I sit in this bitter cold(L.K.)
whispering sweet nothings to the moon, for the night will cease into existence and dawn shall be upon us soon. (aesha nisar)
Enwrought with silver light and dark cloths of night(Abhay Chopra)
There she plays in a twisted mind
bombarded with such torturous remarks, and a dark witty retort
don't fall victim to the spoon
once again observe the phoenix taking flight (L.K.)
Here I sit in the bitter cold,
Watching the sunshine fold,
Down beyond the horizon,
Along with it's shimmering gold(Arlen)
were I wept no one knows
Beautiful sunset pink, and yellow
even in the bitter cold
light shines in the darkest soul (L.K.)
for this is the place to be? I'm told
Shall I add a line, should I be so bold?
Or just sit here alone in the bitter cold(Terence James Potter)
alone in the bitter cold (L.K.)
There she plays in a twisted mind(L.K.)
whispering sweet nothings to the moon, for the night will cease into(aesha nisar)
broken womb destined to the tomb
Enwrought with silver light and dark cloths of night(Abhay Chopra)
As the paint peels off the moss ridden eaves
Watching The violent clouds sailing by(Nirali Shah)
just like the passing of the autumn leaves
moving your puppet strings, so sly(L.K.)
I'm not sure what to fill so I'll sit by this window sill(Chimera)
looking at the ****** of crows, and their fresh ****
sitting here solemn, and every so very still
do what thou wilt, let that be your will(L.K)
And the daylight still creeps coldly across the floor(Evelyn Ash)
wretched images of decaying bodies there like zombies
laying on cold steal floors, what is human anymore
even in the wretchedness I will endure (L.K.)
writing words on someone's soul(Cristina)
The one who stole mine, I've been told(Michael Wysocki)
I put my own name in parentheses(Joshua Amos Graff / J.M.G.)
so no one truly knows me(L.K.)
dysfunctional pull grasping the life out of me(patty m)
as I am chocking, hoping I begin to breath(L.K.)
with coffee stained teeth chattering and frosted skin vibrating( J.M.G)
I can't understand what you prophets are saying(L.K.)
Remembering the past of a life untold(Brandon K Stephenson)
Watching darkness as it takes a hold(L.K.)
This darkness has got a hold of me(Jaishree Kumar)
Remember that life will set you free(L.K.)
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
I want
Moonlight
to pale my skin,
silver my hair,
take my breath,
dissolve my bones.
Scatter me
on beams of light
among the stars
into the endless,
timeless,
unfathomable
ALL
@Cristina Umpfenbach-Smyth January 2011
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 10:43 AM UTC
"Like a black leukemia of stars"
my soul turns in on itself
far more lonely, far more sickly in spirit.
Above, the same desolate landscape
of your dark isolation,
and below - blacker landscapes of black!
Neither the far-off cry of love
nor the nostalgic come-hither of death
disturbs anything within me any longer.
... And only the relentless light ray of lucidity
stabs through, colder, even colder, without mercy
without doubt, without hope, without even a shiver!
Nichita Danilov
*translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Cristina Cirstea
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC
El estandarte ved que en Ceriñola
el gran Gonzalo desplegó triunfante,
la noble enseña ilustre y española
que al indio domeñó y al mar de Atlante;
regio pendón que al aire se tremola,
don de CRISTINA, enseña relumbrante,
verla podremos en la lid reñida
rasgada sí, pero jamás vencida.
851
The world is at its end
I see the ocean at my window
Maria Cristina sputters her last of tears
I have no more to give.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
I'm writing to cure the anxious spirit
that fatigues the unstoppable thinking of the worried mind.
Strings of hair fall with the pulling of each thought.
Nails cut through skin like peeling oranges.
Without you, I feel desperate, vulnerable.
People's ignorance stops me from smelling your garden perfume.
Your purple hair is weaken by my rusty hands.
Every moment I swallow your omnipresent breath,
my lungs cry for more, leaving my mind in a fourth dimension.
New waves cover the sounds and become printed by inspirational shower of rain falling ideas.
Yet again the hunger boils your beauty with incredible ease.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 1:01 AM UTC
Dear Cristina
my friend Cristina
The wisp of March wind
could not have come sooner
I just walked down the road
in the purple hour
through an unearthly tropical mist
that swirled around my body
like the ocean swirls around a dancing mermaid
like the snow that encircles your body in a snowstorm
like floating on the enchanting breeze of a love song
I don't go to bed until dawn these days
when the earth is blue and sad
and echoes the emptiness of the desert with no stars
it makes me happy
it makes a strange sensation overcome my cheeks
as my teeth are exposed to the air
and my mouth stretches
into a smile
it feels a bit like pain
but it's not pain
and it feels a bit like acting
except it's real
a smile from the dawn of man
a caveman monkey smile of vague origin and strange ceremony
a smile that might disturb and perplex
even closest friends
but it is not my intention to frighten
so it's for the best that I am mostly in solitude
and that the few remaining friends I had
are all gone now
I bounce around from place to place
5 places in 5 months
I'd forgotten what it was like not to have a home
it's nice
I was spoiled
but I can tell you for a fact
I know
I am alive now
no questions asked
no doubts
I'm sitting in a ramshackle old beach house that's haunted
with a ghost made of mold
surrounded by a clutter of bizarre and beautiful paraphernalia
dusty antiques that haven't been touched in years
and little statues in corners hidden by five hundred green plants
dinosaur plants
here and there my clothes scattered about
my open suitcases in a corner
my new acid wash jeans bunched up on the floor
The kind you've been searching for
for a year now
I spent my last 5 bucks on them yesterday
I haven't much in the fridge this week
so I eat potatoes
I'm still on Steinbeck's "Cup of Gold"
sipping it slowly like a fine wine
the March break kids are in town this week
shooting off firecrackers outside my window
and stealing all the cool sweaters at Goodwill
We should go to Paris
on our way to India this fall
we're gonna paint that town
literally
until then
read some books
and go to the movies at night
and when you put on your first shorts
with still-prickly untanned winter legs
think of me
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
Miss Cristina drives a 944.
Satisfaction oozes from her pores.
Got rings on her fingers,
Marble on her floors.
******* in her dresser,
Bars on her doors.
She keeps her back against the wall
She keeps her back against the wall
And I say... WELCOME!
Welcome to the Boomtown
Pick a habit, there are
Plenty to go around
WELCOME!
Welcome to the Boomtown
All that money makes
Such a succulent sound...
Welcome to the Boomtown...
Handsome Kevin got a
Little off track
Took a year off from college
And he never went back.
Now he smokes much too much
Got a permanent hack
Deals dope out of Denny's
Got a table in the back...
He keeps his ead to the ground
He keeps his ear to the ground
And I say WELCOME!
Welcome to the Boomtown
Pick a habit there are
Plenty to go around...
WELCOME!
Welcome to the Boomtown
All that money makes
Such a succulent sound...
(the ambulance arrived too late...
... guess he didn't want to wait...)
Welcome to the Boomtown...
David and David
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
In this hole.
I've always felt so alone.
I could hardly see,
Until you found me.
Even from so far.
You left me with the perfect scar.
It hurts so good, and I must say,
You and I could rot away.
With you I'll walk anywhere.
Stick red begonias in your hair.
I think you know just what I mean.
The world may not be what it seems.
Thought it to be Magdalena.
Until I learned of you Cristina.
It hurts so good and I must say,
You and I could waste away.
Weakened knees and stuttered heart.
Forget this not, my favorite scar.
Even across states.
You've opened up the flood gates.
And I'm drowning in your love.
The girl that I met, her name was Scarlet.
And she drove a knife straight through my ******* heart.
And then she pulled it right out
Gave me a kiss.
Then the wound healed.
And left a scar...
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC