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Poems Drawn From The Well

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S: Poems Drawn From The Well Liony Batista

FC: POEMS DRAWN FROM THE WELL | A collection of family poems | Liony Batista

1: Introduction A few years ago, I started noticing that there were a lot of people in our family who seemed to have a knack for the arts, especially in the area of writing. As a poet and the son of a romantic poet, I thought it might be a good idea to compile some of these into one book...this is that collection! I hope you enjoy it and, in some small way, get to know this huge family that began with Conde and Maria Batista. I chose the title "Poems Drawn From The Well" because of the depth of experiences and life situations showcased in a lot of the poetry. When I read these poems I feel the intimacy and the vibrancy of each of the poet's lives. I hope you will too. Enjoy!

2: Enrique Dante "Conde" Batista | Born in 1920 in La Vega, Dominican Republic, the man who would come to call himself, "The Dreamer Poet" would ultimately lead a family of 15 children and countless grandchildren. Affectionately known as "Conde" to everyone, he always loved music and poetry, often singing and writing in the "music room", a separate room in the house where he kept all his music, poetry and photographs. Now retired and living in Santo Domingo, he still spends a lot of time in his music room. This book is dedicated to him for starting a long tradition of poets, writers, music lovers and photographers.

4: TiTifn | I hereby declare treason on destiny It violated my temple It will no longer be the same Destiny will have to work now Work Work hard because the road Is now invisible And destiny Will be another | Vladimir "El Chobbi" Rodriguez | Destiny

5: My father once told me: You will never know peace until you've stared at the stars for two hours straight. A truth, perhaps, for one who had grown up in Dominican Republic: where the air is charged with mystery, whispered stories of amorous tragedy dancing wild, dazzling with a spark of laughter as you were wrapped in her full-bodied embrace. Where music slides through the feet, clings to pronounced hips and cups each breast with a tender kiss. Where the eyes can taste the rise and fall of an ocean swimming with sapphires and hear the colors of diverse equivalence making their way through lively streets. And yet, this is something I'll never feel. Memories that don't belong to me. And never will. Maybe this is why I've yet to find my peace. Why the stars always seem so distant. And why, most times, I can't see them at all. . | Cristina Ashley Batista | Missing What I Never Had

6: I gave you half of my heart and you asked for the whole thing I gave you a bit of my trust and you asked for the whole thing I gave you all of me and you didn't even have to ask I gave all the love that was in me Every smile in my system Every kiss I could give Everything I had left in me to give because I love you and now what? I ask you for your heart and I can't even get a piece I ask you for your trust and can't get enough I ask for all of you and I can't even get the smallest part. Any bit of love, a smile a kiss, anything you have left to give. And still, I have nothing. I guess it's because you love me... | I Guess It's Because You Love Me | Nathalie Michelle Urena Batista

7: This morning I woke up thinking about you: remembering those excursions to the south, speeding through Loma en Medio until it seemed we reached the end of the earth and we would be swallowed up by the mountains in the middle of it all. Remembering how you sped through that curve and we almost landed on the other side of the river. I said my prayers and hoped for the best while you laughed it down nervously. I miss you and that morning breakfast of platano maduro with eggs and avocado la morena cooks while dancing to merengue. I miss looking up at the stars at night, so close you can almost rest on them. I miss those stupid crackers with cheese and salchicon we ate every night and called our dinner. I miss the sound of streaming rivers, of opaque moonlights and blaring sunsets. I miss the little things you do that make my heartaches and bruises seem invisible; that sometimes make me wonder if everything I ever believed in was not lost; that make me feel like a man who can still conquer the world and make it spin. I miss those silly little things you say that transform you into the philosopher Plato could only hope to be. I miss passing through Bani and San Cristobal, through its broken homes and broken dreams; looking out the window and hoping the drive the moment the journey would never end. | The Little Things | Liony Enrique Batista

8: You told me As I looked at your face I read your mind and Your eyes told me your thoughts You told me that my best Just wasn't good enough That no matter how hard I strive to do well I would fail You told me that my life Would never go anywhere That I would be Another worthless thing in the world You told me that I was nothing I wasn't a person in your eyes anymore Not a human being But an unwanted stranger in a new world You told me that I would never find anyone to love And if I did, I'd never be loved back That no one could love a creature Such as I You told me that stupid was the word God made for me And when he created me It was all a mistake An accident, it wasn't meant to be Then you told me You were my father with a smile I looked into your face and read expressions The words hunting me down and Trailing in my mind I took a deep breath But yet I smiled Your smile was a lie Nothing in it that was sweet Nothing held back those emotions You thought you hid so deep | You Told Me

9: I'm your daughter You know it's true Can't hide the fact That I look just like you My nose, my mouth My ears, my eyes You saying those words Make me break down and cry Just live up to the truth You know I'm yours it's clear Just treat me like I'm someone Now that I am here But don't expect to be called dad You're not one of those yet in my eyes You're only a person who runs, Hides, and stays in a disguise You lie so much to yourself You start believing it's the truth Falling so deep into your sin Let me not even begin I'm just trying to make a point And throw the truth in your face Let you know that to all the fathers in this world You are a disgrace You can't make up for the childhood years They're gone, they flew Understand life's not always going to be happy The sky's not always going to be blue So grow up, stop hiding, take off your disguise And live life to the fullest each day that you're alive | Rebekah Marie Batista

10: Nicole C. Batista | My words are blocked My conscience conflicted Strain in the back of my mind At those who are not convicted My words are blocked Drums pound the rhythm of my pains Symbols crash with anger Chords of confusion abound in my veins My words are blocked Bittersweet thunder of joy The strings are all awry My life guitar I cease to employ My words are blocked Silky smooth pleasure from the sax Blown melodies, the smell of love Can't be touched, only thought of My words are blocked The trumpet screams my aches Longing of wanting what can't be reached The hope of the harp, my soul awakes My words are blocked In the far distance The flute of freedom come The day of the harmonica's hum My words are blocked Constriction of my essence Searing heat sparking and scorching To fight imminent acquiesence My words are blocked Desperation claws for description To be caught is crucifixion, living contradiction Feelings a whirl of bursting impatience The lost art of phenomenal creations My Words Are Blocked... | My Words Are Blocked

11: pushed past unnoticed logic to embrace this wail of pleasure my urge bold and erotic dripping, dripping without measure gently stir me like no other lover to the core lift the veil of dissolution, begging you for you, for more prove me wrong and say you love me to the point you can"t ignore push inside me to my conscious text, strong and raw . | Pushed Past | Doreen Montilla

12: Looking down at the dance hall, seeing tables filled with friends and distant relatives, and that boy I once liked but now can't remember his name. Here I stand, at the top of the staircase, like Cinderella in her dress; your dress of sea foam taffeta, the one you picked out, the one that looked like the dress you wore when things like taffeta and chiffon were fashionable and dancing on the toes of your brothers, at your age, at any age, was acceptable. I think about the dances I will to have to do, the stiff ones, where my head kicks back and my spine, curved from years of sitting in spooned desk-chairs, will be forced straight, looking up into my father's eyes—crying as he wonders who I'll be. I hear the eighties music cue and I should descend, not stall and think about what this really means: the music, the dress, the Mary Jane pumps that match my russet eyes, beneath this hideous gown. I think about all the girls, sitting in chairs, because boys won't dance. They look like sad plastic figurine on the tops of cupcakes. | Quinceanera | Samari Batista

13: Before my eyes they transform into the ideal of a seventies dance movie, where the cool, dangerous guys who danced weren’t gay but sexy. Remember? Your favorite decade—the one where you could do whatever you wanted? Where you could strut around in electric orange pumps with your afro and glasses and matching leg warmers. Where dad danced--walked--to you at the counter of that store, with bell-bottom jeans and a peace-sign necklace, swore you were the one and followed you home on his bike, every night, till he broke you. And now I can see you, waiting, hoping that, like you, I can have whatever you want for us here. So this dance, this hall, this gift of what you didn’t have—I’ll do it for you. .

14: ...I feel taken advantage of, Persecuted, sacrificed like a lamb. Guilty until proven innocent Betrayed by doubting Thomas's. My weakness was being too nice. Friendliness, my crime. Who would have ever thought it would be too much? Too much love, too much trust...a bad thing? Trust is a double edged sword on which I bled. Love is a potent poison, swallowed without hesitation. Loyalty is a whisper crushed with a rumor. Survival of the fittest? No! She has been tested, and shall not fail. She has been weighed, and found wanting. She wandered off the path of Godliness, and found herself on the road to redemption. This road, so familiar yet alien still. A path traveled by many Christians Made weary by countless pitter-patters Littered with psalms, seasoned by ancient fears. Softened by tears, and with prayers made calm. My heart hath been deceived. God knocked on my soul, I didn't answer. I have hardened my heart against him. Do I dare beseech him? Ask for his mercy? Would a father forgive his child her transgressions? My soul is blistered from endless sorrow. My heart is blackened with the soot of my sins. Oh me, of too much faith, of too much trust! I will not be ashamed! When my friends forsake me, God vowed to take me up. | Her Road To Redemption

15: Who else but the most Holy can guide me? Guide me away... from those I love, but have no heart. from those I trust, but have no honor. from those I stood loyal to when no one else was there. Grant me the wisdom to pierce through a peaceful smile with mischief hidden in their hearts. Do I dare get on bended knee to beseech my God? Dare I ask for forgiveness in my time of need? Will he answer my call, when I have left him for last? Has He hardened his heart against me, As I have done to him? Do I dare to seek his Holy book for consolation? Dare I ask for guidance? To be delivered from my den of iniquity? Do I deserve his mercy? How can he love me, when I have turned from him? If I cannot forgive another of their sins against me, how can I ask forgiveness of my own... Herein lies my path to redemption, I shall walk the rocky road of forgiveness. I have repented my past, devoting my future up to the Most High. My journey is one of love, to find it in the purest form free of selfishness, self sacrificing, Entirely everlasting and earthshaking devotion. As my knees scrape my wooden floor, I feel the grating pressure of my burdens on my back. Fingers clenched tightly, blood pressure sluggishly slow. I lift my head up high to receive a blessing Made specially for me, I pray that my blessing flows through me And in turn blesses those closest to me. My mind has been opened to the unexpected...repentance. Let the tears flow...they are a testimony of my perseverance. | Tiffany Marie Batista

16: Adalgisa "Liza" Romero Batista | I have gathered my thoughts together, to ease the pain that built a barrel around my heart. I will no longer shed the tears that float daily through my features. The summer has turned to bitter coldness around my surroundings. I can't feel your touch or the smell of your cologne: your existence has vanished from my soul. Like the roots of dying roses, you have suffocated my inspiration. I no longer desire you. | The Great Victory

17: Carmenchu Zarete Batista | The moment we met we bonded like bee to honey. Your smile sweet and inviting. Your eyes full of flame, making me feel perplexed and uneasy. Your body drawing me in. But like a precious jewel, it was forbidden, never to be touched. You were only eighteen yet your heart seemed older: youth separated me from your heated invitation. Perhaps it was just a vivid thought of what you were imagining? But dreams do come true...if only they did. | Forbidden Love

18: Joel Enrique Batista

19: Zaribel Batista

20: Ruthy Cruz Batista

21: Kennia Montilla Batista

22: Autumn Leaves Are Falling Down

25: Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~Albert Camus

29: I love the leaves, I do not know why. Is it their colors or how they fly? They crunch and crinkle Under my feet; I pile them up And take a leap!

33: Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.

34: Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn. ~Elizabeth Lawrence

42: Nature gives to every season, a beauty all its own. - Charles Dickens

45: Fall is here!

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Liony Batista
  • By: Liony B.
  • Joined: about 7 years ago
  • Published Mixbooks: 0
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About This Mixbook

  • Title: Poems Drawn From The Well
  • A compilation of poems written by the Batista (and extended) family....
  • Tags: None
  • Started: about 7 years ago
  • Updated: about 7 years ago