Tjue Åtte

Today the city of Oslo had a rose and candle procession through the city, and my friends and I went. So did a lot of other people. 150,000 other people to be exact. I'd never been in a crowd that big, but there was something sincerely moving about the population of Oslo marching from City Hall to Oslo Domkirke holding roses in the air. Oslo has gone out of shock and into mourning, but not reproach and anguish. People are banding together. The last quote is a now famous quote by one of the survivors of the shootings at Utøyen, and I think it fits the general opinion of the citizens very well.

We are the city! We enter,
We pulse through the streets
Like blood. Its heart beats
As we march through the center.
“Ja, vi elsker dette landet!” is implied.
No one sings it but you can hear.
Everyone to everyone is dear,
As one voiced had cried,
“If one man can create that much hate,
Imagine how much love we as a togetherness can create.”

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Cold Night

There is no one more
Important than me
For me. I learned this
From the cold kiss
The wind gave free.
How kindly I ignore

What I feel and think
And hold what I want
In disdain as if maybe
Only a similar gray be
The extent of my détente
‘Tween life and the sink

-Ing I call the rest of
The world. A cold night.
A perfect time for one
To hold a greater need to none.
To make my self-thought right,
And I myself can love.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

A POST WHAAATT?!?!

So... Ironically since I've been on this one post a week schedule, I've been writing a lot of poetry. I've written two poems in the past two days, and I actually wrote two poems last week but only published the latter. With this I'm going to tentatively reinstate the twice a week posts and see if I can keep it up again. Anyways, here is a poem I wrote in Spanish on Sunday night, after reading some Neruda. I haven't written a poem in Spanish in at least three years. Yay, Neruda. Yay, Spanish. I'll post a translation too.

Por cuanto soy la ciega, ¿en cuantos idiomas
Tendría que decirte que yo no veo bien?
¿En cuantos mal momentos harían palomas
Que vuelen por nada, y en nada estén?

Por cuanto soy la sorda, ¿con cuáles movimientos
Te mostraría los huecos que sin razón
Me han tratado malo? ¡Tantas son los sentimientos
Que chupan a la vida de mi corazón!

Por cuanto soy la muda, que solo pueda caer,
No tengo nada a decir a ti.
No tengo nada que podría traer,
No tengo nada por que quedarme aquí.

Translation:
Because I'm the blind one, in how many languages
Would I have to say to you that I don't see well?
In how many bad moments would there be doves
That fly for nothing, and are in nothing?

Because I'm the deaf one, with which movements
Would I show the holes that for no reason
Have treated me badly? Many are the sentiments
That suck away the life of my heart!

Because I'm the mute one, that only can fall,
I have nothing to say to you.
I have nothing that I could've brought.
I have nothing to stay here for.

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