some of my work over the years
For My Mother Who is Afraid of Hillary
There is another one right behind it.
Children full of promise.
This is the balance, a balance.
A good morning.
Feel the change upon the air.
We all know that we will not be,
As bad or worse as the last ones were.
And we know that we can do as well as, or better than the last ones.
'Every generation makes mistakes, grows,
Its our turn now.
This is the balance, a balance.
It is just that,
Now we are older,
Next in line.
Parents who were once children,
Then parents, and middle aged.
Now they are grandparents, and we are the middle aged ones.
This is the balance, a balance.
coronations, parades, charades, balls, falls,
But you have to be proud.
You raised this son,
-To participate, with conscience, and opinion
So that he knew,
Even when he made some serious mistakes,
Or didn't live his life quite like you'd want him to,
That he knew
What was right
And what was wrong,
That is the balance.
Observação das 8 Horas da Manhã
Você sabe de uma coisa?
No Brasil, a gente come:
Bolachas com o café de manhã!
Ele toma o seu café com leite,
E o outro, toma café adoçado com
Eles conversam com olhos radiantes…
E seus corações
açucarados, e cheios…
Não! Eu sei!
Que este é um amor…
All I know
there is a
all I know
There is the
then is the
How can I
see what to do if,
the then is
yet to be?
I feel blessed to have
Said that it
making a poem that implies that someone is listening.
suggests that someone was there to listen in the first place.
To hear the
How often it
was that I felt I was shouting into the wind, and
people I thought who were
cared about what I said or felt.
And to find
The wind had
became my true friend, as
It blew a
harsh north wind so dry and dusty, and then
I let it
take me away
When I flew
over the hurricane
And woke up
in South America.
Was it the
Or was it me
calling out all night,
looked out on a light show from space
Blown to the
place where my life changed forever
Living as I
was like a machine amongst machines
When after a
year of pain, and
the slayers of dragons
Made an epic
journey to reach each other
against the greatest of all odds
movies we see
guys wear white, and triumph against all odds,
And now they
look at us differently,
can see in our eyes the happiness and the power we have
for our own.
And as life
is moving us toward new dreams
We are a
I am happy
as we gather energy for the next great adventure.
brought together as if by
chance, when God heard us
As we both
prayed into a hurricane.
From Quito to Lima, and
I saw the
Well, one Ande,
A great, defiant, ice covered middle
Through clouds, that clung to it
As they blew up from the Amazon,
Ghost to a past, that as it
Looses its snow to a future, as
uncertain as never before.
Reminded me what it means,
Now to be an American,
And how it all depends so much on
how we learn to
In a collective
After more than five centuries of
Genocide and immigration, of
Migration and colonialism,
exploitation, and Slavery, of
Feudalism, Communism, Capitalism,
Socialism, and now Corporate Development
That this pervasive sense, of
domination and humiliation
By the few over the many,
Calls us now to sit and rest
On the bank of
the river without end or beginning,
Dangle our bare feet, in the muddy
stream, that began as melting snow.
5 de abril de 2006 / Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Preto, Minas Gerais
| || || |
Poems for my son over the Years
| || || |
| || |
A Meu Filho / To My Son
Every father says his first born son’s birth is auspicious,
That his child is destined for great things
but then, who can say it’s not true?
You see, I will always have this…
11 years ago, you were born.
On the night the Challenger died,
Your Mother’s water broke.
Beneath that supernova,
You, a tiny phoenix soon to appear upon the high desert that
So close to the stars that it seems you can almost touch them.
I, down stairs watching in the darkness, quietly crying
With the television,
You had chosen this very moment in time to emerge into the light.
A call to me upstairs, and
Just by the tone of her voice
I knew that
Nothing would ever be the same again.
There were complications and so, when you suddenly appeared,
They took you quickly aside, and I leaned over you,
Nose to nose, breathing into your ear
To calm your frantic, panicked screams, I said out loud what
into your mother’s stomach every night before we went to sleep,
“Baby, baby this is your daddy.”
Covered in birth and mother, you looked into my eyes and,
Taking your first great breath, stopped crying
and smiled at me.
Its now the beginning of your second decade,
You will learn that you can become just about anything
You possibly want to be,
This will be the decade when you will
Stand up, take wing,
Make those first awkward steps in the direction of your call.
And when I returned to the apartment,
I wondered what kind of mess would be left behind
When your mother’s water broke a full day before
And what I found was the sweet gentle smell of you, my infant son,
Soul of my Soul.
29 de janeiro 1997 / January 29, 1997
This year you have completed
your twelfth trip around the Sun.
And as we near the start of your next one
I had some thoughts,
during my morning walk,
today in foggy orbit
a dozen laps amidst a vortex of gulls
calling to each other.
I thought about you,
Away in the desert,
and how we, in airplanes like gulls fly
to see each other, or to have adventures in far off lands, and how
when I was a child I would escape in a double decker bus with the name
of a dog.
My mother let me sit by myself upstairs, and look out across the silver
as we flew north across sweltering summer fields and farms on old 99W.
I was as high and as fast as any kid could fly, because almost no one
did back then.
And when I was twelve, they let me take the bus, by myself, to visit
My first adventure through canyons and over great arched bridges,
on that dog named bus, that moved like lightening, and flew like a
They packed me a lunch.
You were so near to us twelve orbits ago.
though we did not know it yet.
One dozen years ago today.
A dozen, twelve, doze, doce
One plus eleven,
Two more than ten,
A pair of sixes,
A seven and a five,
One half of twenty four...
No one knew then what good things would be ahead for us;
Challenger, and you exploded upon the world,
And even though it has been rough sometimes for us
most of the time,
it is pretty good.
26 January 1998
A Pubescent Poem Found 333 Days From Y2K
1.31.99 ABQ -> SMF
Your annual poem
But as I took off,
From spending your birthday weekend with you
I rejoiced in how you are becoming a man
Voice changing with a little hair here and there
And I rejoice, celebrate this
As your father
Now as your body makes its next
And as those around you marvel at your beauty
Both inside and out
Those of us who have gone ahead
Can see your next stage
Brings only good change
Don’t be afraid
Change is change
And I am afraid
The world you are growing into
Will only find you living with one thing of surety
No chump transition -
I am so proud of you
My son of thirteen years
Be strong and patient
And you can gain everything Imanjá wishes for you.
| || |
It was 20 years ago today
Begins the song by
You were born
On that morning early
Beneath the exploding star
My life changed – exploding rocket that you were
As you flew out of your mother’s womb
The doctor catching you like a football.
You making your first cries,
And I leaned over
You, all covered in mother
and bent from the trauma of birth and forceps
And whispered in your ear,
“Baby, baby, this is your Daddy!”
And you stopped crying, and
taking your first deep breath
With the one eye covered in goo and the other
you looked at me.
You forever honored me by being the first person on
this planet that you saw, and though many tried, they never took this
away from us.
You may not know this, yet
And why should you?
As there is no way to explain
Have a son
A friend, a hope, a colleague, a future
who grows to be such a fine young man.
Though distance and time have often been our
What love I have reserved for you
No one is able to take away.
Happy 20th my son, you do us proud!
29 de Janeiro de 2006
completion of your first 25 turns
Around this star
And with your own
New turns, and
And future, while
In between your adventures
To write down your own stories
as bright as that sun we circle together, and
Me, older now
And not altogether unlike my father
Was then, and
You with a life across a continent
As close as we are as far
That expands and contracts
With heartbeats that beat time
With best laid plans
In carefully packed boxes
Along with memories whose stories we carefully dust off
To keep or discard.
Or just return to the box from which they came.
| || || |
Copyright 2011 by Daniel C. Orey
rights reserved. No part of this website may be reproduced or utilized in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the author.