Our Sponsors!
Read your favorite poem or one of
your own under the Dome!
your own under the Dome!
| These are the good people who are making this happen!!! the Mayor and the Board of Supervisors and the amazing people who staff their offices!! the San Francisco Public Library (if your wonder why this building looks more like the Asian Art Museum instead of our beautiful new Main Library this is the old, kinda boxy, but still lovely Main Library and well, there are no old timey postcards from a few years ago) the Brainwash Cafe Poetry Flash Viracocha Kaleidoscope Casa Sanchez |
| Our Angel's List This is our list for individual contributors! Thom Fowler Jeremy Pollock Tuyet Storm Ben and Charlene Son Rigby Alex Post Bird & Beckett Thank you Sara Powell for hosting our second fundraiser at Kaleidoscope! Many thanks to the Poets and Musicians who helped us raise money for our expenses! Ingrid Keir, Jennifer Barone, Daniel Heffez, Richard Loranger, Pablo Rosales, Sarah Fran Wisby, Clara Hsu, Bill Mercer, Juris Ahn, The Secret Secretaries, Potholder and the Lid, and Raska! Thanks to Jonathan Siegel for hosting our first fundraiser at Viracocha! Special thanks to the Poets and Musicians who helped us raise some of the money we need for our expenses! THC (The Human Condition), Keep Sweet, and Front Junk! Pam Benjamin, Amy Cruz, MG Martin, J. Brandon Loberg, Monica Storss, and D.W. Lichtenberg! If you wish to contribute, contact us! Thanks!!! |
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Tuyet Storm asked if she could pick a
poem! So, here it is! Thank you, Tuyet!
SOMEBODY'S DARLING
Words by Marie Ravenal de la Coste
Into the ward of the clean white-washed
halls,
Where the dead slept and the dying lay;
Wounded by bayonets, sabres and balls,
Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody's darling, so young and so
brave,
Wearing still on his sweet yet pale face,
Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.
Matted and damp are his tresses of gold,
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of most delicate mould,
Somebody's darling is dying now.
Back from his beautiful purple-veined
brow,
Brush off the wandering waves of gold;
Cross his white hands on his broad
bosom now,
Somebody's darling is still and cold.
Give him a kiss, but for somebody's sake,
Murmur a prayer for him, soft and low,
One little curl from his golden mates take,
Somebody's they were once, you know;
Somebody's warm hand has oft rested
there,
Was it a Mother's so soft and white?
Or have the lips of a sister, so fair,
Ever been bathed in their waves of light?
Somebody's watching and waiting for him,
Yearning to hold him again to her breast;
Yet there he lies with his blue eyes so dim,
And purple, child-like lips half apart.
Tenderly bury the fair, unknown dead,
Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
Carve on the wooden slab over his head,
"Somebody's darling is slumbering here."
poem! So, here it is! Thank you, Tuyet!
SOMEBODY'S DARLING
Words by Marie Ravenal de la Coste
Into the ward of the clean white-washed
halls,
Where the dead slept and the dying lay;
Wounded by bayonets, sabres and balls,
Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody's darling, so young and so
brave,
Wearing still on his sweet yet pale face,
Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.
Matted and damp are his tresses of gold,
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of most delicate mould,
Somebody's darling is dying now.
Back from his beautiful purple-veined
brow,
Brush off the wandering waves of gold;
Cross his white hands on his broad
bosom now,
Somebody's darling is still and cold.
Give him a kiss, but for somebody's sake,
Murmur a prayer for him, soft and low,
One little curl from his golden mates take,
Somebody's they were once, you know;
Somebody's warm hand has oft rested
there,
Was it a Mother's so soft and white?
Or have the lips of a sister, so fair,
Ever been bathed in their waves of light?
Somebody's watching and waiting for him,
Yearning to hold him again to her breast;
Yet there he lies with his blue eyes so dim,
And purple, child-like lips half apart.
Tenderly bury the fair, unknown dead,
Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
Carve on the wooden slab over his head,
"Somebody's darling is slumbering here."