1st Placewinner$100 + $65 Gift Certifi cate donated by Letee’s Hair

Studio and Day Spa

YA NO MIRES AL PASADO

Si supieras cuánto dierapor besarte…Si tan solo imaginarasel amor que por ti siento,tus angustias quedaríandesvanecidas en el tiempo...dejarías de ser presade un recuerdo ya lejano.

Si dejaras que uno sólo...tan sólo un verso te tocara; que salido de mi pluma, se posara en tu mirada,se abriría tu sonrisa...Cantarás en tus mañanas,y darás a mis anhelosesa luz que se ha apagado.

Volará... Rauda y ligeravolará, mi alma agasajada, devorando con sus alasel viento huracanado...Volará, si te lleva en sus deliriosal refugio donde aguardan, los sueños más sublimes...Y las ansias aplazadas.

Ya no mires al pasado, no condenes tu presente.Alza tu mirada ardiente... Toma mi mano y deja, que mi abrazo te proteja...Y este amor viva por siempre.

Tomás González-CoyaHarlingen, TX

Translation

DON’T LOOK BACK

If you knew what I would giveto kiss youIf you could only imaginethe love I feel for you,your sorrows would bedissolved in time…you would stop being preyof a faraway memory.

If would you allow one…at least one of my verses to touch you;emerging from my pen, resting on your glance, your smile would widen… you will sing in the mornings,and give to my longingsthe light which has become dim.

It will fl y… swift and light it will fl y, my feted soul,devouring with its wingsthe thunderous wind…It will fl y, if it carries you in its frenzy to the refuge where, the most sublime dreams…And the delayed yearnings await.

Don’t look back, don’t condemn your present. Raise your ardent gaze… take my hand and let,my embrace protect you…And this love remain forever.

2ND Placewinner

$50 + Watch donated by Jewelry Corner

HOMELESS

One day this past summer, in no special place,No words need be said, just look at her face.

Hunger pains, what else can she do,Just one more day to make it through.

Tattered dress faded, faded from time,She struggles forward to pick up a dime.

Sandals she wore, on the soles of her feet,Was no protection, from the Sun’s scorching heat.

Dark clothing she wore, from toes to her head,As if out of respect, respect for the dead.

Refusing to stop, and talk to a stranger,Disgust and distrust, she sees only danger.

One only knows, what her dreams were once were,It’s perfectly clear, they belong to her.

A lonely church bell, comfort for some,Another long night is still yet to come.

No choice in the matter, she begs for food,The hearts of others, depends on their mood.

Next to the ally behind the bus station, It’s hard to believe we’re the world’s greatest nation.

Ignored by many, passed by, by most,She feels so ashamed; they think she’s a ghost.

Where will she sleep, another cold night,Alone in an alley, a pitiful sight.

One only knows what tomorrow will bring,Just more of the same, a circle or ring.

Just for this moment, from thoughts that were hidden.I share them with you in words that I’ve written.

Rolando GarzaRio Hondo, TX

TAPS

As you hear Taps, feel blessed thatthese unsung words ring true.For this scared tune remains wordless,yet deep in red, white, and blue.Taps is pure and holywith its unsung words. Its eulogy:

Days is done,Gone the sun,The prayer, in this tune, is God’s will.Heroes die,Wars are won in battle.

Beneath the sun or moon,Taps’ ghostly tunefi lls the air with echoesof a battle cry for heroes.Born in an old battlefi eld,Taps consist of 24 beautiful notes.In prayer, it accepts God’s Will.In battlefi elds, Taps often replaces bullets.In faith, it offers us a time to heal.As we whisper softly, once againnone have died in vain.Like hearing a mourning dovesinging from nearby trees,Taps reaches for Heaven aboveoffering us rest and peace.For when heroes die, Taps echoes a lullabye.

Frank J. LugoMcAllen, TX

LITTLE GIRLS

“Grandma, Grandma, I’m in a school play,”Exclaimed our beautiful multi-ethnic, dark-eyed,dark-haired Sophie from South Carolina.“Will you make me hunters’ vests for my friend and me?”Over to México to buy the fabric,Waiting in the bridge line to returnI shout, “She looks like Sophie!”A beautiful multi-ethnic, dark-eyed, dark-haired girlDarting among the cars and trucks,“Buy my Chiclets,” her big eyes plead.No school play for her.

Ruth E. WagnerBrownsville, TX

ODE TO A RESACA

Life is not dull living on a resaca,with nutria, gar, and the brash chachalaca.Massive turtles with frying pan shells;sometimes the water’s so foul that it smells.Muscovies, anhingas, black snakes and heronall know the water’s secrets therein.Placid surfaces mirror the skyas I stand on the bank often wondering why,but when I hear the call of the Great Kiskadee,I know there’s no place that I’d rather bethan watching the water fl ow on its way,washing away the cares of each day.

Emily J. FoltzBrownsville, TX

CONTEMPLATE (THIS MOMENT)

I stand at the edge of the waterthe waves roll to my feetI look out over the oceanand the day is almost complete.

Shrimp boats way out at a distanceand seagulls laughing fl y bya cool breeze touches my shoulderas the light is leaving the sky.

Here by the water I wonder what happens to us at the endto me it doesn’t much matterthis moment I’m happy my friend.

Bobby LucioBrownsville, TX

ALMA DE MADRE

Veo a mi pobre madridista, fría y enfermaMiro sus arrugas, calles de amor ternuraMiro la mujer que me ama aunque su vida era duraOigo su bello corazón palpitarOigo el dolor en su voz me hace llorarSu fragancia me hace recordar mi niñezSu fragancia llena tierno calor nunca con frigidezSiempre dando sabor a mi vidaPor favor que nunca me faltes ningún díaSiento su dolor y me quiebra el almaSiento su fuerza débil, pidiéndole a dios que le dé de cenar a su alma

Fernando DávalosLos Fresnos, TX

THE SHORELINE

Take me to the place where My toes meet the sand,And my hands create castles

Where the water rushes to the surfaceThere you’ll fi nd meWith my feet sinking down, down

As I walk and splash, walk and splashI hear my mother calling

But it’s time for me to catch my wave,My visceral wave consumes me

The song of the sea illusions meAnd takes me to that deep placeThe hard rocks

My feet slip and bleedI get caught in the under current,Marred by seaweed

The taste of salt burns my noseAs the water threatens to choke my hope

In the distance I hear a myriad of voicesThat sound like crashing waves

On the horizon as the sun setsThe Voice calls

I fi ght and steadily race back to the shoreGliding in on peaceful waves

Crawling in on all foursWith my hands sinking down, downThere you’ll fi nd me

And in the distance I seeA sunriseA chance to begin anew

Giana HesterbergBrownsville, TX

WHO SAYS DINOSAURS ARE DEAD?

I see them in the movies and story books I’ve read.And late at night before I sleep and I’m lying on my bed,I close my eyes and visualize them dancing in my head.So if you stop and think real hard of something that could be,You just might make a dinosaur become reality.

Desi NajeraBrownsville, TX

A PROCLAMATION TO PEARL

Thanks friend, for teaching me about unconditional love,how to give proper belly rubs,that the grass is always greener when you’re outside,for listening to me when I have to vent and not judging what I have to say,how to run wild and free,to break loose from my leash every now and then (even if I get in a little trouble),about making the most of everyday as if I were living in dog years,to always stand my ground and guard my territory,that loyalty makes and keeps friends,that a tilt of the head and a trick can get you a reward,to show that I’ve got a tough bark but don’t bite,and to howl with passion and tenacity.Thanks for being a warm furry shoulder to cry on,that special someone to always kiss goodnight (I know I will always get one in return),and fi nally, for being an eternal soul mate,and for giving my family and I cherished memories with you that are everlasting.So here is an ode, a proclamation, to you my pal,to the paw prints you have left behind and the ones you still have to make, and most importantly,for being a LOVE like no other.

Olivia DelgadoMcAllen, TX

PATRIA SERENA

Patria serena… hoy tengo para ti solo laurelesPues en tu suelo nuestros héroes han caídoY existe en cada fl or y en cada ríoEl aroma sutil del ya partido

Patria serena… llenas están las comarcas y los cerrosDe fragores de batallas y de truenosPero nada inmuta a tu corazón tan buenoY sólo existe tu amor dulce y sereno

Patria serena… en ti percibo yo tristeza y desencantoY sufro yo al pensar que te debemos tanto,Aún resuena la campana de Dolores¡Y al resonar tiñe tu faz de mil colores!

Patria serena… caudillos han luchado por tu honraHidalgo, Allende y la Corregidora,Me cuesta tanto detener mi llantoCuando recuerdo con amor a quien te quiso tanto

Patria serena… la imagen más fecunda que yo tengoEs cuando un mexicano grita que te quiereAl sentir que es suelo de tu suelo¡Y al palpitar tu corazón, es sangre de tu sangre!

Patria serena… a tí debo yo haber nacidoEn una tierra tan grandiosa y tan queridaTan llena de culturas y de razasQue por el mismo Dios ya ha sido bendecida

Patria serena… queda aún tanto por decirtePero la historia se escribe con proezasY surgirán así nuevas grandezas¡Y escribirán sus letras nuevas los poetas!

Javier García GonzálezH. Matamoros, Tamps.

EL LABRADOR

Recorriendo un Labrador sus campos una mañana alló una zarza bellanaentre su trigo mejor

Arranco la con cautelala puso junto al inderoy le dijo a ti te quiero,tu serás mi centinela

Así en manos de la sienciavirtud adquiere el venenoque hasta lo malo hace buenobolundad e inteligencia

Eusebio SánchezBrownsville, TX

FIVE MILES AWAY

a pocket of povertyalong the southern tipof the Texas Tropical Traillined with dilapidated shacks

run-down trailers full of familiesmounds of junk and garbagewindows aluminum-foiledbuildings boarded-up with No Trespassing signs

dogs wandering the streetswomen behind piled-high card tablesand clothes lines, tryingto sell whatever rag they can

highway patrol, sheriffs, deputies, constablesand drugs everywherehere in the ‘heights’the town just ten minutes from us

white winter Texanswith big, beautiful homeson the emerald golf courseof another world

Deborah LewisLaguna Vista, TX

BABY KISSES

He gives out a long, low whistle;She knows that little tweet.She lifts her chubby, little arms;He sweeps her off her feet.Her cherub face lights up with smiles;Both hands go for his beard.She giggles and gurgles and babbles away;To her Grandpa the words are clear.

With her fl ashing eyes and drippy chin, And a mouth that never misses;She wets his face with sugary droolAnd gives her Grandpa dirty kisses.He wipes off the drool and makes a face;But it really makes his day;When Baby wets his whiskers downIn her own sweet, drippy way.

Linda HughesBrownsville, TX

EL RIO BRAVO – THE RIO GRANDE RIVER

El Rio Bravo means the river runs wildTorturing those who wander it to be free.The Rio Grande River appears to be a place very mildFull of sugar cane fi elds as far as the eye can see.

On the banks, the children are white and brownGüeros and prietitos they are called.Some of them are happy, but some have a frownBecause in this river some of their loved ones have stalled.

They couldn’t make it through to the other sideDidn’t think the current was that strong.They followed one another listening to the guideOnly to learn that he was wrong.

“El Coyote” made it across like he did, time after timeNever really looking back to see who was there.Just thinking about how he would spend his dimeAnd once in a while, he’d catch a little girl who’d stare.

He’d seen this little face beforeNot one he ever wanted to see again.She was holding her mother’s dress that toreAs the current, swirled around them and that’s when…

He yelled, “Keep on moving, freedom was over thereWhere her future children would be some day.”She reached into the raging river and pulled her mother’s hairKnowing that with her mother her children would someday say,

“Mira abuelita, how strong my mother can beShe cooks and cleans as if there’s no tomorrow.But never speaking about what she would seeOr what happened as a child in El Rio Bravo.”

Romeo CantúPharr, TX

ON BIRTH

The waves didn’t make a sound.They just sat there with me and watched me cry.The pain of birth is always welcomed with joyful happiness.

Why is death never welcomed?The moon watched me cry as the sun gave away.The majestic ocean saw my pain and the waves came alive.

Their song, a song of love.They opened their arms and welcomed me home.Ah, the pain of death so tender, so welcoming I am home.

I am born into death.My fragile body will die within my time.The ocean and the waves still call my name; I yearn to return.

José De La GarzaBrownsville, TX

3RD Placewinner

$25 + Cinemark Movie Tickets

GRANDMA’S OAK ROCKING CHAIR

Memories woven, as tonight we rockA rhythm of squeaks, like ticks of a clockMy grandchild squirms, he’s fi ghting off sleepEnjoying this time, moments we’ll both keep.

We read stories, I read to his momSang old vesper hymns, God knows where they’re fromThen favorite songs, I began to hum‘Til he fell asleep, while the rocker strum.

As the oak rocker creaked, it seemed to say“I’ve soothed many, as I rocked in my dayGrandma rocked the day, her baby was bornWe rocked for years, until tired and worn.

She rocked sick children, for many a yearShe told them stories, and dried their tearShe rocked when she, was unable to sleepShe planned and worried; and sometimes she’d weep.

She chatted and rocked, when friends stopped to callIn storms she rocked, to the drum of rainfallA noble person, from her chair she’d reignUntil her chair, seemed to groan with her pain!”

Now we’re rocking, the fi fth generationWith loving thoughts, and much adorationFor those before; now for our tots we prayThey’ll rock in this chair, ‘til they’re old and gray.

Ms. Pat TeshBrownsville, TX

“Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.”

-Robert Frost

H o n o r a b l e M e n t i o n • H o n o r a b l e M e n t i o n

Thank you to everyone who participated in

The Brownsville Herald’s fi rst annual poetry contest.

RubenPeÑaA Strong County Needs a Strong County Judge

For cameron county judge

Runoff Election: May 27thVote Early: May 19th-23rd

RubenRuben

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