______ FEATURED POET |
| Poetry Corner |
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| COPYRIGHT © 2006-2011 rosalienebacchus.com. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS PAGE WAS LAST UPDATED ON: 1 JUNE 2011 |
You gain strength, courage and confidence by every
experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.
ELEANOR ROOSEVELDT
QUOTATIONS FOR CANCER PATIENTS, SURVIVORS AND LOVED ONES
experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.
ELEANOR ROOSEVELDT
QUOTATIONS FOR CANCER PATIENTS, SURVIVORS AND LOVED ONES
| LISTEN TO |
Who Am I To Cry by Angela Consolo Mankiewicz |
| WATCH & LISTEN |
| SCENE FROM "ONE DAY LESS" EXPERIMENTAL OPERA MUSIC COMPOSED BY DAVID JAVELOSA AND LIBRETTO BY ANGELA CONSOLO MAKIEWICZ (3:28 MINUTES DURATION) |
MY FAVORITE BOOK OF POETRY BOOK OF PSALMS OLD TESTAMENT CHRISTIAN BIBLE |
| ANGELA'S CHOICE VISSI D'ARTE - TOSCA MARIA CALLAS |
| Lodged in wounds of ole it feeds on grief and rancor. Cancer of the soul. HAIKU POEM ROSALIENE BACCHUS |
Bloated babies scream for milk
and old people wither in wheelchairs
Who am I to cry
while AIDS continues its sullen rampage
and drive-bys stalk schoolyards
teenagers flying off cliffs in search of the
But I do cry
over this life form in my left breast,
bequeathed by a father intent on absence;
did he fear I'd forget him?
Anger assumes blame, a wrong, a scheme
I gave up on long ago, with no regrets;
but I do cry
These tiny, aberrant cells bear me no malice;
they seek life, as I do; their rights, their desires
no less than mine
I keep my tears private, though I slip on
then I twist, away from myself, my shame
at thinking me worthy of pity
I'm strong, I can beat it, and if not,
I'll live trying.
But I do cry.
and old people wither in wheelchairs
Who am I to cry
while AIDS continues its sullen rampage
and drive-bys stalk schoolyards
teenagers flying off cliffs in search of the
- rainbow,
But I do cry
over this life form in my left breast,
bequeathed by a father intent on absence;
did he fear I'd forget him?
Anger assumes blame, a wrong, a scheme
I gave up on long ago, with no regrets;
but I do cry
These tiny, aberrant cells bear me no malice;
they seek life, as I do; their rights, their desires
no less than mine
I keep my tears private, though I slip on
- occasion,
then I twist, away from myself, my shame
at thinking me worthy of pity
I'm strong, I can beat it, and if not,
I'll live trying.
But I do cry.
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