Shadows on an Evening Snowbank

I am alone when it is night,
When the ground holds nothing to see.
Darkness does not open doors.
The squeaking snow my only trace,
The sound floats in its frosted space.

But I suppose the night ignores
The silhouettes that are cast free
When any small flame shows its might.
My shape distorted on the snow,
Movements betrayed in a lamppost’s glow.

Watching you is watching me,
Mistakes I make transcribed as yours.
You’ve become my shadow, when in light,
Appearing on my conscience’s shelf.
Not often I learn from myself.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Poem About the Son with Knot a Hole Lot of Homophones

So in the spirit of nostalgia, I'm going to post another super super old poem. This is the first (decent) poem I probably ever wrote on my own accord (IE not for school). I wrote this back in the summer of 2006. Because everyone loves a fourteen-year old Cali.

Enjoy!

~CD

To bawl over a ball,
As we haul it down the hall,
We wholly call it holy,
But lo! They call it lowly.
For twelve hours it is ours,
Till a flower subsides to flour.
Till we four just venture fore,
And our sores, oh how they soar!
We see it fall to Sea,
And the light flees like a flea.
And behind the tee of tea,
What can it be? A golden bee!
We say, “hi” as it floats high,
And by and by, a good “Good-bye.”

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

DOUBLE POST!!!

Hey everyone! So in honor of my birthday, I decided to do a double post. The first poem I wrote today, recounting my very first memory. The second poem is a poem that I wrote in Spanish back in the fall of 2007, and probably my favorite poem of my mine ever. I hope you enjoy both of them!!!

~CD



First Memory

Verdant shuffle, fresh from sleep.
Day unplanned save planned caprice,
Free from obligations to keep,
Time obliging only to creep,
Not too old for inner peace,
Every quandary tends to cease
At inception. None are deep

I round the corner, put my fist
On a wall of mirrors, every shade
Reflected as to not resist
My acknowledging them in list.
But soon was a connection made
Between myself, and one thought stayed:
“This is me. I exist.”


Sin Titulo (October 2007)

De primavera hasta enero
Con su viento, cruel y frío
Eres mi alma, franco y sincero;
Eres mi amor, eres mío.

Con otoño y su color atrevido:
Vistas bellas de Dios sencillo,
Amigo querido, para mi has sido.
Eres mi amor, eres mío.

Y en el verano con su calor
Donde podemos ver los tonos del río.
No aventuraré sin tu valor;
Eres mi amor, eres mío.

Pero nunca sabrás cuanto te amo.
Con la mano de Dios yo me guío
Desde esta punta, de mis sueños te llamo:
“Eres mi amor, eres mío.”

De primavera hasta enero
Con su viento, cruel y frío
Eres mi alma, franco y sincero;
Eres mi amor, eres mío.

TRANSLATION:

From spring until January
With its wind, cruel, cold,
You are my soul, frank, sincere,
You are my love, you are mine.

Autumn with its bold colors,
Beautiful sights from a simple god,
A dear friend to me you have been,
You are my love, you are mine.

And in the summer with its heat,
Where we can see the river's tones,
I wouldn't venture without your valor,
You are my love, you are mine.

And you'll never know how much I love you.
With God's hand I guide myself
From this point, from dreams I call you:
"You are my love, you are mine."

From spring until January
With its wind, cruel, cold,
You are my soul, frank and sincere,
You are my love, you are mine.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Old Snow

The waves are growing towards the sky,
As quiet as a breath’s reprise,
The amethyst but a residue,
Lingering from the recent sun.

As if none revived these dormant seas
Of third day’s snow with sheen gone dry,
The luster of this patch long spun,
Its enchantment holds but few.

The season is far from begun,
Shadowy patches no longer new,
Evaporated is the sense of ease,
Left only with a half-hearted, “Why?”

Perhaps the jejune that I drew
Reminds me of what should be done.
In this plain of sameness, void of try,
Join me as I leave for the trees.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Blackbird

dear blackbird
on the Green
what I’ve heard
what I’ve seen

breakfast sandwich
that you stole
with beaked stitch
and eaten hole

your feathers loose
january
eyes and puce
tongue you carry

they all watch me
as if to say
“this was my fee
now go away”

but my approach
still gives you fear
and I encroach
you disappear

you make no sound
you turn not back
and for the ground
feathered black

Unpublished Material, ©2011 by Cali Digre

Shades and Snow

Colors have no need for praise,
They seldom hold to subtlety.
They cannot hold eternity.
A suited tenure could be glaze.
Upon a surface they gently graze.

The thicket hollow with its ash,
A quiet hue of restful art,
So that trees can’t be told apart,
The darkness does to hide a gash,
Enchanting with its somber flash.

All things romantic tend to be black,
Best camouflage for small mistakes,
Ignoring what existence makes.
It also hides what good they lack,
Not knowing when the light comes back.

The trees are shadows for the snow,
Silhouettes who outlast their theme,
Dark lines that withstand a dream.
As limbs are covered with silky glow,
Their shaking sleeps. The night is slow.



Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

PS: I took the picture too [:

Stars

Hey everyone! So I started class this week and have still to get used to the work load... So this is a poem I wrote when I first came to Hanover, inspired by the sky when I was walking back to the dorm one night. Enjoy!

-CD


Stars are such a godly feat
For looking at them takes respect,
But not to simply circumspect,
Take them in like quiet sleet.
Take them standing on the street.

Their icy sheen may be remote,
In distant caverns of our time,
Far from reason, close to rhyme.
And in between my feet and throat,
My heart beats in a broken rote.

The trembles that the world can feel
Cannot be sensed by distant eyes,
For they have more to visualize,
More to press and more to heal,
Tucked away in space-less steel.

But they are numerous and far,
And I will never see them all,
Each their names I will not call.
But in its stream of glistening mar,
Nothing compares to a star.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Footsteps

Eyes gifted with blindness float.
It matters not where they fall.
Their hold on gravity will let them gloat
Until they must all answer to its call.
They’re pressed down firmly on the grass
As if no goodness came to pass.

A firm set of tracks cuts through the snow
I feel the need to trace its way.
But a freer walk could not be so,
Each crater held a slippery gray
As if this message would suffice:
“A twice trodden path is set in ice.”

Unpublished Material, ©2011 by Cali Digre