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Write On Magazine's Featured Poet

Richard Christensen

Poet from Fort Myers, Florida

 

Adios, Pueblo Bonito
(Goodbye, Beautiful Village)
By Richard Christensen

My name is Hernando, I'm sixteen years old,
last year I had to quit school.
I am smart enough for making good grades,
but now I must work like a mule.

The Florida sun burns hot on my neck,
I labor 12 hours a day.
I work as a farmer, though I don't own the land,
I earn a few dollars to stay.

My brothers and cousins, my father and me
all ride in the back of a van.
We work in a field towards Immokalee,
no hope for retirement plan.

Our forman has told us to keep prices low
we must work cheaper than ever before.
But the work is still hard, the sun is still hot,
in the evening my hands are still sore.

We exist on fast food
because we can't cook at home,
refrigeration's a luxury.
There are leaks in the roof, we sleep on the floor,
we're blessed with electricity.

Some say that the government shouldn't lend us a hand,
it would be better to make our own way.
Who ever heard of a vegetable stand
making a profit and raising our pay?

There are people out driving in fancy sedans
who complain of the price of tomatoes,
a few pennies here, a few pennies there
might add up to a bag of Doritos.

All that we want is a better place,
live our lives with some dignity.
I would be willing to work twice as hard,
but no one will live next to me.

My name is Hernando, I'm almost a man,
I'll be working by dawn's early light.
You'll have your cheap produce
and retirement plan,
while I sleep on the floor tonight.

© 1996 copyright Richard L. Christensen


Fragrance in Motion
By Richard Christensen

Oh, to brave the night
while she awaits 'tween sun and moon,
yon maiden of the twilight
lying 'neath a foreign banner.

Swirling mist over jaded turf
the forlorn cry of a loon,
probing fingers of an endless surf
resurge emotions with thy manner.

Beware! this projectile pierces armour
cleaving bone from life's marrow.

Dare I dream and bare my breast
bid the shaft-overtake me,
hail the quivers guidance-thine aim be true!
lest reality awake me?

Tis the wind it knows my quest
the messenger heralds her essence fair,
echoing laughter mortal fears subdue
whispering jasmine through her hair.

As if mere distance could disarm her
and not leave me smitten by love's arrow.

© 1996 copyright Richard L. Christensen


Reflections of Adulterated Youth
By Richard Christensen

I shall write a poem about young love, eloquently flowing without restraint.
It will contain more random color than an easel's sprinkled paint.
What do I know of love? for young I no longer be. The vigors
of youth, the innocence of years a forgotten memory.
Expressions of gratuity have long since rolled off my tongue,
but I have known love's tenderness, for that I will remain young.

I shall dance the dance of unbridled adolescence, linger long
on through the night.
I will rise above mediocrity, challenge an eagle's soaring height.
What do I know of dancing? for now crippled I surely be; foot
suredness and proud balance have all but abandoned me.
Yet I have stepped in merriment, faced celebrations with a runner's stance.
Until the final race is spent through this life I continue to dance.

I shall sing a song of discovery; of joy that knows no bounds,
with all the eagerness of unfailing youth on the heels of life's baying hounds!

What do I know of singing? with my throat now rasping and parched
my voice being just a coarse whisper echoing the spirit of lost patriarchs.
Life's continuous melody is orchestrated with the bloom of each spring, so as long as my lips have movement, in sheer joy I triumphantly sing.

I shall laugh with uncontrolled reaction; as with stimuli raking my bones,
with guffaws to my heart's satisfaction as if each childhood prank was my own.
What do I know of laughter? with the seriousness of age setting in; pondering this life's closing chapter, the spector of death looming grim.
Ah, but I have mused with the best of men, I have chuckled, I have convulsed as though daft. I have had recollective and mysterious grins, in this life I have certainly laughed.

I shall praise the Grand Creator; in whose image I am reported to be,
my youth or my years are as nothing to the King of Eternity.
What do I know of praising? miserable retch that I am;
I who have spent my days selfishly, regarding conscience an infectuous sham.
I have loved and laughed, I have sung and danced, thus I have known God's impeccable ways.
In my youth I consorted in ignorance, with my years do I offer my praise.

© 1996 copyright Richard L. Christensen



Amplifier Light (Song Lyrics)
By Richard Christensen

Let's take the sofa pillows and spread them on the floor,
turn off the lights and place our workin' shoes beside the door.
All I want is to be near you, lay back and hold each other tight,
let's get lost in sweet emotion guided by amplifier light.

I can't write the love songs but I know the feelings they bring,
so I'll just dedicate each one as if it were only mine to sing.
Then let me harmonize, harmonize along,
hey darling, they're playin' our love song.

When they sing about their first love, well that's the way it was
for me,
and when they say devotion, I think of your kind loyalty.
When they cry of love not right it only makes our love belong,
as they pray for guiding light, hey darling, they're playin' our
love song.

Just let me rub your shoulders in that very special way,
share a little glass of wine and tell me, How was your day?
I know it's getting harder but I'll try to make things right,
as you lie here in my arms guided by amplifier light.

I can't write the love songs but I know the feelings they bring,
so I'll just dedicate each one as if it were only mine to sing.
Then let me harmonize, harmonize along, hey darling, they're playin' our love song.

When they sing about their first love, well that's the way it was
for me,
and when they say devotion, I think of your kind loyalty.
When they cry of love not right it only makes our love belong,
as they pray for guiding light, hey darling, they're playin' our
love song.

When they sing of memories they were yours and they were mine,
and when they say forever we've just begun to count the time.
When they cry about the past it only makes our love grow strong,
as they pray their love will last, hey darling, they're playin' our love song.

© 1996 copyright Richard L. Christensen


Please direct any inquiries or comments about Ric's poems
to his e-mail address: Chrisfiore@aol.com




About the poet . . .


Richard Christensen

Richard Christensen was born, raised and educated in Iowa and currently resides in North Fort Myers with his wife and three children. Ric recently went "public" with his poetry at the urging of his wife, Jo Ann and on occasion reads his poems at local coffee houses and bookstores. Ric recently attended his first poetry convention in St. Petersburg, sponsored by the Tampa Bay Poetry Council. He has been writing poetry since the third grade and it has always amused him to put rhyme schemes together although he didn't start in earnest until his mid-teens. Ric also writes song lyrics and one of his songs entitled, "Amplifier Light" is being considered for recording by a group of local musicians.

"I generally came of age during the late sixties
and seem to have a soft spot for social injustices, like the one at Pueblo Bonito," said Christensen. "There has been a proposal to build a low income housing project in the Bonita Springs area specifically for the farm workers which consist of a large portion of minorities, mostly Hispanic. They have been living in sub-standard dwellings because they cannot afford the high rent the area demands. They only want a chance for decent housing but unfortunately the proposed site is next to a planned community that does not want them there. It is a typical case of the haves verses the have nots, but in this instance the subject was just a little too close to home."

"As I read the local newspaper articles day after day I became very emotional, not so much over the plight of the workers, but because of the cold heartedness of the residents. I was moved to write the poem, "Adios, Pueblo Bonito," and paraphrased a lot of the comments made by the farm workers. I feel what makes the work so moving is the fact that it is a true story and the people in it are real. Sadly though, it has yet to be resolved."

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