Author: Marvin Allen
-
Home, Part II
I always thought home was a place…But is it truly?Isn’t it all the roads not taken?The ghosts of moments we never lived? At times, I see myself in a quiet villageWed to the farmer’s daughtersGrowing old beneath silver skies And at times, I succumb to the persistence of this illusionAt times I am too weak…
-
-
The Cry of the Coyuyos
The cry of the coyuyos piercesThe cloudless sky of Santiago del EsteroCarried by the wind through the palm fonds The heat – nearly tropicalAnd time here flows differently!Slow, stilled by the heatNourished by the warmth of the people I find myself once more amid an old homelandOnce lost Amid my very own dream of another…
-
Deutschland, Deutschland
Deutschland, Deutschland, how has it come to this,That thoughts of your dense forests cast me into a deep nostalgia?As I push through the fog of the Czech Republic,Unstoppable, advancing into your leaf- and needle-clad woods,The last rays of the year pierce the clouded sky,Dancing between branches that sway in the wind.And so, your sight appears…
-
-
