Monday, March 26, 2012

Two cypress trees


                                        1889, Van Gogh, "A Wheatfield, with Cypresses"



In the house where I lived
two cypress trees stood.
Mang Nestor, our driver,
Nely and Trining, our caretakers,
Alice, my babysitter,
the others I don't remember
I know they were 7 in all;
they chattered, they bantered
as they passed through our gates
with noisy laughter.
There, upright they stood
 regally and tall.

In the house where I lived
two cypress trees stood.
My mother would bake a cake
on those happy Sunday afternoons;
or with her Singer,
sew fancy smocked costumes,
while we'd play hide and seek
until we'd see the moon;
little feet with hungry faces
there we would sit
in the canopy of braided foliages.
Surely, upright they stood 
firmly and tall.

In the house where I lived
two cypress trees stood.
One day, people came by
hoping to say their last goodbye.
For my mother they prayed;
in the quiet of the night,
her spirit took flight;
a soft breeze in a
warm, and lonely night.
Truly, upright they stood 
bravely and tall.

In the house where I lived
two cypress trees stood.
Every ray of sunshine
that brought laughter in our home,
or dark clouds of sorrow
that brought tears at our door;
Those colors ever so green 
silently witnessed it all.
Always, upright they stood, 
faithfully and tall.

2 comments:

  1. As I said in my email, I love this one--your use of form (the repeated first two lines, which is called "anaphora", and the last two lines, repeated but with variation)--holds everything together and acts as a framework for the unraveling story. I love all the details--the SInger sewing machine, the names of the driver and the caregivers, playing hide-and-seek "until we'd see the moon". It really brings the world of your childhood alive. Galing!

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  2. Thank you so much! I have never even heard of the word "ANAPHORA" and I'm glad to know that such form exists and I somehow used it in the right way.

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