"gratia" poems
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya
State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers
Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations
While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia
To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring
For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born,
Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever
As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism;
So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya;
The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord
Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear
Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger
Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk
Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion,
Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows
Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys
Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture,
Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father
ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also
Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing
fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress,
M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers
They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd.
This consumerism and **** consumerism,
It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor
It is the avaricious tube which siphons back
The hard earned money from pockets of the poor
Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
Thank you everyone for an amazing year, to all my followers, friends, and fellow poets/poetess! You guys are all real poets to the core, and just awesome overall. You have always made my day, and gave me something to look forward to after every tiring and shtty day. So this is my thank you so very much to all you fckin sympa, incredible, and marvelous colleagues! All you're words mean a lot and have helped me everyday.
Thank You!
Dankie!
Shukran!
Do je!
Hvala!
Dìkuji!
Tak!
Aitäh!
Vinaka!
Salamat!
Kiitos!
Merci!
Danke!
Efcharisto!
Mahalo!
Toda!
Shukriya!
Terima Kasih!
Grazie!
Domo, Arigató!
Kamsa hamnida!
Gratia!
Achiu!
Xie xie!
Takk!
Aguije!
Dziêkujê!
Obrigado!
Hvala!
Mulþumesc!
Gracias!
Asante!
Tack!
Khop Khun Krab!
Cam on!
Jerejef!
Diolch!
A (shaynem) dank!
Maita Henyu!
Dhanyabad!
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who in a rain of gold
Broke open bars and fell on Danae:
Or a dread vision as when Semele
Sickening for love and unappeased desire
Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the fire
Caught her brown limbs and slew her utterly:
With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
Before this supreme mystery of Love:
Some kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
An angel with a lily in his hand,
And over both the white wings of a Dove.
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II
Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L’herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,
Ben e colui d’ogni valore scarco
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora
De suoi atti soavi giamai parco,
E i don’, che son d’amor saette ed arco,
La onde l’ alta tua virtu s’infiora.
Quando tu vaga parli, O lieta canti
Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi ed a gli orecchi
L’entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti
Che’l disio amoroso al cuor s’invecchi.
1.7k
my eyes, too blind from the light of hell to see
pray for you to choke the blasphemy out of me
ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae
you misread my plea and loosen your holy grip
and more sins spill from my ****** lips
ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae
my tongue is heavy with heresy
but still i babble hypocrisy
ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae
amen
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
We were west of the Azores,
Five days out of New York,
when we spotted the Mary Celeste.
She was listing to Leeward
But still under sail
with no obvious sign of distress.
Briggs, Her captain, I knew
as a man good and true
And his shipmates
were capable men.
We hailed, but no answer,
So I send men aboard
To find out what had become of them.
Her cargo intact, just one lifeboat gone
And a rope that trailed aft in the sea.
Something had caused them
To abandon their ship
but why was a mystery to me.
There are storms on the Ocean
As winter draws near;
A sea grave was their likely fate
Or else they were drifting
Ever farther from shore
with nothing to eat on their plates.
I gave thanks to God’s grace
that cold, indifferent Fate’s
bony fingers had not touched on me
and I wept for my friends
of the Mary Celeste
who would never
come home from the sea.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
it is nothing I could begin to say to you
for it came to be without words
without sound
but not quiet
it was with the sound of something as you look upon it
The hum of tiny waves
shadow not shadow and the space beneath, that is to say,
between
life without a need to be
without purpose,
failure and not failure so close together because (finally I saw) they are not separate
it was steps that unfolded to infinity around the block
and around again (sic transit gloria mundi)
it was arms swinging like pendulums past ribcage clock faces
waving away the concept of time
In this small corner of the world
it was saying thank you for handing me over to solitude and meaning it
dying in order to let me heal you
it was following the jet trails with fingertips touching them like you taught me to
it was letting the poetry come in and pass through and move off
not holding it in, anymore
When I learned for the first time, to write.
it was when I heard something behind me
it was I am.
it was when I drove on the freeway and the cloud broke and we passed out into the sunlight at 67 miles per hour, even though I was alone
when I was disturbed with the thought
today (dei gratia) I am happy to be alive.
Green was your favorite color.
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 3:23 PM UTC
Christmas Eve mass
The Ave Maria begins to play
Images start to run through my mind
Some of now and some not of this time
Ave Maria
I see the Manger before me with our dear Lord as a babe
It quickly switches to a stranger letting her babe be aborted away
*Gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena*
I see our Lord speak of peace
Then see our soldiers defending another's keep
*Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum*
I hear the mortar shells as they fly through the air
I hear our soldiers whisper their prayers
*Benedicta tu in muli eribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris*
I see Jesus take someone in
Only then to see someone not give a second look at the homeless man
*Ventris tuae, Jesus
Ave Maria*
A mother and child searching for shelter
Dressed only in thin clothes in a harsh winter
*Ave Maria
Mater Dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Ora pro nobis
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus*
I see Him hung upon the cross
To now seeing a man beheaded for proclaiming his Christianity is not lost
*Nunc et in hora mortis
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Ave Maria*
The song has now ended and my eyes are wet
The tears I let fall all for remembrance
Lest us not forget
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
I cut thee so much ******* slack ex gratia
and yet, as a reward, I know only of thy bitter indignation.
What virtues hath thy Mother instilled in thee;
Abuse? Contempt?
Entitlement?
If so, she did a job
second only
to none
How do you sleep?
Do thy injurious ways simply go unobserved by thee,
or doth thou rather play a Politician
upon the Stage that is thy Mind?
No longer is ex gratia an option;
however, this ex animo writing
doth indeed seem inevitable.
Were thy conscience again to be my Jury,
I wouldn't hold my breath
waiting for a fair verdict.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:00 AM UTC
Je te chante
A toute heure
Religieusement
Les très grandes moultes belles et riches heures de Ma Dame
Je te les chante en latin à matines
Ave Maria Plena Gratia
Je te les chante à laudes
Tota pulchra es amica
Je te chante en latin les petites heures, les heures de pucelle
Je te les chante à prime
Regina caeli letare
Je te les chante à tierce
Benedicta es tu filia
Je te les chante à sexte
Obsecro te domina sancta Maria, Mater dei, pietate plenissima
Je te les chante à none
O intemerata et in eternum benedicta
Je te chante en latin les grandes heures, les donzelles
Je te les chante à vêpres
Alleluia Hosanna Musa Benedicta tu in Musis
Je te les chante à complies
Salve Regina Mater misericordiae vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve
Et dans le silence de ma cellule
Noire et blanche
Je te renouvelle
Après l'office des complies
Sans antiphonaire et sans graduel
Mes voeux d'humilité, de pauvreté et chasteté
Ecoute la prière grégorienne
De ton moine cistercien, ton baryton orthodoxe,
Ton serviteur, ton esclave, ton Musc
Nu et sincère sans habit et sans scapulaire
Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:31 AM UTC
the next great poet
walks among us
without a halo
or unearthly glow
she might post daily
or he might write in bursts
they might be ringing
up your groceries,
or making your
non-fat double decaf
latte with splenda
(smiling to themselves
and saying "why bother"
under their breath)
mostly they stand
bodies distracted
by making a living
and watch
so their poet's eye
can record life
in a way that
makes some sense
to their souls
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
Light steps commence at sun’s first ray,
And thus begins the dance today.
Your presence beckons me from sleep
In perfect step, I try to keep.
——
And though you lead me soft and slow,
Missteps, each, begin to show,
The little lie, the lustful glance,
Reveal the stumbles in our dance.
——
But though I trip with every fall
You keep me spinning through it all.
Behold my flaws! There is no trace!
For all are hid in perfect grace.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
Ave, Maria, gratia plena.
Oh ! votre oeil est timide et votre front est doux.
Mais quoique, par pudeur ou par pitié pour nous,
Vous teniez secrète votre âme,
Quand du souffle d'en haut votre coeur est touché,
Votre coeur, comme un feu sous la cendre caché,
Soudain étincelle et s'enflamme.
Élevez-là souvent cette voix qui se tait.
Quand vous vîntes au jour un rossignol chantait ;
Un astre charmant vous vit naître.
Enfant, pour vous marquer du poétique sceau,
Vous eûtes au chevet de votre heureux berceau
Un dieu, votre père peut-être !
Deux vierges, Poésie et Musique, deux soeurs,
Vous font une pensée infinie en douceurs ;
Votre génie a deux aurores,
Et votre esprit tantôt s'épanche en vers touchants,
Tantôt sur le clavier, qui frémit sous vos chants,
S'éparpille en notes sonores !
Oh ! vous faites rêver le poète, le soir !
Souvent il songe à vous, lorsque le ciel est noir,
Quand minuit déroule ses voiles ;
Car l'âme du poète, âme d'ombre et d'amour,
Est une fleur des nuits qui s'ouvre après le jour
Et s'épanouit aux étoiles !
Décembre 1830.
347
Todo en ella encantaba, todo en ella atraía
su mirada, su gesto, su sonrisa, su andar...
El ingenio de Francia de su boca fluía.
Era llena de gracia, como el Avemaría.
¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar!
Ingenua como el agua, diáfana como el día,
rubia y nevada como Margarita sin par,
el influjo de su alma celeste amanecía...
Era llena de gracia, como el Avemaría.
¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar!
Cierta dulce y amable dignidad la investía
de no sé qué prestigio lejano y singular.
Más que muchas princesas, princesa parecía:
era llena de gracia como el Avemaría.
¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar!
Yo gocé del privilegio de encontrarla en mi vía
dolorosa; por ella tuvo fin mi anhelar
y cadencias arcanas halló mi poesía.
Era llena de gracia como el Avemaría.
¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar!
¡Cuánto, cuánto la quise! ¡Por diez años fue mía;
pero flores tan bellas nunca pueden durar!
¡Era llena de gracia, como el Avemaría,
y a la Fuente de gracia, de donde procedía,
se volvió... como gota que se vuelve a la mar!
384
she gave me rueful look in a pretty dress
a spirit i couldnt escape
sitting in a place of honor
springs bubbled among jumbled boulders
headed west on a rutted road
we sat in silence for a minute
i took a breath and said nothing
silence
i stared
i recalled
a gleam below dreams
a small flame perfectly warm
we were silent
i picked up a piece of twig
architecture without glamour
ars gratia artist
tiny butterfly serene and stunning
traversed the main route
traced the curving line of the mountain
deliberately she had met me on the backporch
as if it were the center stage of a theater
she hovering nearby
tracing lines
landmarks
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
Exampli gratia:
Here, in the sun, looking straight forward over the green lawn onto the bacciferous frondescence
The space between the building where psychopathology was taught and the building where our intelligence was tested
– buildings made unsafe and marred and subjected to presence –
Here, I just am; there is no absence
As far as my eyes can see, the “where” is here and the “when” is now and I am alone, listening in to today
A bee flies by and draws my eye to the peripheral timescape
Inside the dark window to the left we sit in silence and wait for a pre-school class to walk past so we can continue a lesson that ended a year ago
Behind me looms the auditorium where we partook in curiosity
Beyond this greenth, you own the space
But on this bench, there is no absence
Here, I can breathe, lone as I am
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC