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Tag Archives: The Poet
The Night Terrors
I can’t remember when it started, my deep plunges into the depths of depression. I think it involved from the time I graduated from high school through my first few years of college. I had a very difficult time falling … Continue reading
Star Watch
In the Imperial Valley, my father, and I suppose many other people, stepped outside to enjoy the cooler evening air of a hot summer night. I was just a toddler but I remember. He would stand or sit on the … Continue reading
Posted in autobiography, Family History, poetry, TB, UFO
Tagged childhood, family, The Poet
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March 5, 2010 by Joseph E. Najera
Sear reader: I am starting to put my writings together in book form. I have already posted some of them. Here is page 1.) I am 62 years old now, and I am drifting in and out of moments. I … Continue reading
Sir Walter Raleigh in the Southern Sky
I stay up late and wake up early. The evening settles across the sky. It spreads out like a blanket, As I sit here by my screen. I see the night fall, I see my father, when I was small … Continue reading
Posted in Family History, Poetic interlude, TB
Tagged family, The Poet, Tuberculosis
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The Blacksmithy Dawning by Joseph E Najera
I open myne eyes and break away fro’ some private dreamings An’ I let th’ coulde air fill me lungs and check th’ sky fo’ signs o’ weather. Alas, I let slip th’ quilt an’ feel the coldness dance upon … Continue reading
Las Golondrinas by Joseph Najera
Las Golondrinas Winter comes upon us with a cold and lonely wind. It brings with a stab the lilac shadows night. The lowly mist spreads empty chills across the clear and purple night. Winter comes upon us with the … Continue reading
1968 by Joseph Edward Najera
1968 I was searching for you ages ago When the night wings flew by my window And the air felt cold. I was looking for a piece of memory, a remembrance of your face. Maybe if I ran across … Continue reading
A Remembrance of Eugene Martinez by Jose Eduardo Najera de Ledesma
I remember November And the day, and the cold fog clinging to my cheeks. It was the day the black cars were waiting With their headlights glowing, The day the people were treading slowly From the white and silent … Continue reading
