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The Feast of St. Francis

from 'Canticle of the Sun, ' by St. Francis of Assisi: 'Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.'

Bird-song rises
in clear, liquid waves

as golden leaves arc
twisting
to the ground.

Heavy gold
must fall.

October heat
gives way
to winter rain

yet inevitably life flows
like the breeze
rising from the broad sea
to the high Sierra;

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poem by Steven Federle
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A beautiful Angel

A beautiful angel
A twisted motive
Your deadly and dangerous
Beautifully twisted
A hidden monstrosity

What a dark angel
What a beautiful soul
Ice in the fire
Water in the coals
Sadistically Divine
A hideous concubine

A beautiful angel
Fell back to earth
Darkly Divine
A morbid Masochist
A liar at best
A beautiful Beast
A dark little creature

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poem by Sierra Kavanagh
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Cinderella Dream

The tears that remain
Fall down my face

That little girl I used to be
No longer has a childhood dream

She dreamed of a love everlasting
Like Cinderella in her castle

I was porcelain
But now I’m broken

Shattered into pieces
No longer a whole

This little girl sum of you used to know
No longer put on a show

To hide the fears she had
And the times when she missed her dad

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poem by Sierra Bouvier
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The Ocean In My Mind

I sit on the beach
nothing but ocean in front of me
I look at the waves
and hear the rythum of them crashing
on to the rocky shore
I feel the water trickle down on me
in the hot summer sun
I look back into the ocean
and notice that I see no end
just beautifull blue water
I watch as dolphins
jump and twist in the air
I watch as sailboats
lazyily glide by
I watch the tide come and go
just sitting there
and enjoying my suroundings
I think to myself
life is like the ocean
unexpecting and dangerous

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poem by Sierra Love
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Sister Sister

Sister Sister

My sister is funny
she likes to eat money

I can't wait till she goes to school
she might have a lot of work to do

I will have to teach her how to spell
I never want to be in hell

My Sister is a tease
She is always making me freeze

She is so great
I do believe in fate

I am only seven
But I know all about heaven

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poem by Sierra Breeland
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Veni Seer

Come, Holy Spirit,
bending or not bending the grasses,
appearing or not above our heads in a tongue of flame,
at hay harvest or when they plough in the orchards,
or when snow covers crippled firs in the Sierra Nevada.

I am only a human being: I need visible signs.
I tire easily, building the stairway of abstraction.
Many a time I asked, you know it well,
that the statue in church lift its hand, only once, just once, for me.
But I understand that signs must be human,
therefore, call one person, anywhere on earth,
not me-after all I have some decency-
and allow me, when I look at that person,
to marvel at you.

poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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A way to end

These sorrows I had thought forgotten
Now I feel my hope has rotten
So shortly lived and quick to die
Or perhaps it found its wings to fly
To another soul who thought to borrow
A way to end this pain and sorrow

A short-lived victor in happy times
Until he returns to write his lines
Of a life that seems so cold to him
For he's never to go home again
Now he feels that he is hollow
Left with only pain and sorrow

There is no escape for him he fears
Drowning himself in his tears
It seems an ocean that he's made
He shakes, he knows that he's afraid
Because he'll never see tommorrow
It's hard to live with pain and sorrow

poem by Robert Sierra
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Quatrains

I
Give to brave deeds emblazoned shrines
Where reverent memories may throng.
For them Art draws her perfect lines
In stone, in color, and in song.

II
For the Sierra Club Lodge in Yosemite Valley

Here, traveller, pause along your upward way—
Enter and rest, and search your soul today.
High are the mountains where your feet would fare—
Let wisdom lead, that joy may find you there.

III
The Monument by Saint-Gaudens in Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington

I WAS a woman who now sleep so still.
I laughed and wept, I loved and had my will.
Com'st thou to question? com'st thou here to

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poem by Harriet Monroe
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Sierran Song

To the California Sierra Club

Come climb the mountain trails with me,
Where pine-trees plume the sky,
Where snowy peaks salute the sea
When herald winds pass by.
Wah ho! the day is blue,
The night with stars aglow;
And all the dreams come true
Up there—wah ho!

The stream runs dancing on its way,
The meadows flush with flowers.
The gay birds sing a roundelay
Through all the crystal hours.
Wah ho! the sky is blue,
The world is soft as snow;
And all the dreams come true
Up there—wah ho!

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poem by Harriet Monroe
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Money In Africa

You the master of mankind
Long time from your hidden
Thee we prayed for
I chased you ran
Poor is waiting for you
UN need thou for peace
ECOWAS need thee for the west black
Some thee are God
everything thee are believe to
disaster thee brought

Calamity thou enjoy
'Daffou' alone
the workshop of poor soldiers
thee mankind fought
just to met thou in 'Daffou'
they pray for unstability
just to get thee in 'Daffou'

Africa the home of blood

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poem by alfusainey Sonko
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