Circadian Poems

A place to celebrate poetry, poets, and the creative spirit.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Of My Father's Mandolin

Of My Father’s Mandolin
By Gianna Opris

Two olive-moons shined
in my father’s eyes
as he played the mandolin.
People stared at his hands
and his fingers performing
a music that easy entered the heart.

His concerts began a celebration
sometimes his gift for someone’s birthday.
He played mostly the waltz.
The mandolin sang in Peruvian
a sea of fresh violets
my happy birthday song
the harmony of a September that is gone.

Some of us ‘bravo’ standing!
Members of the family “salud” to each other.
My parents kissed across the face in the living--
I had my shy smile --my strawberry cheeks.

I fully understood the light in my father’s eyes
moved me --
while he tuned a “La menor, Fa mayor”
to play more songs.
Mom wearing her hand-made apron that smelled
like rice just made, took off her glasses; sat.

The mandolin rested, contemplating its audience.
If you looked carefully at its strings they vibrate --still
experiencing a rumba of flavors,
fingering one, two, two, one, two, two.
My father grew like this, going to bed late
writing his letters, with no showers in April.


Biography

Gianina Opris currently resides in Denver Colorado after originally moving from Lima, Peru. She is currently pursuing a Masters Degree in Creative Writing at Naropa University. She has been published in various journals, including Bombay Gin, and has received an honorable mention at Columbine Poets in Colorado. Gianina was selected for the 2004 international poetry exhibition in NW Cultural Council in Barrington, Illinois. Gianina is a second grade school teacher in the Denver Public Schools. She is part of a performing poetry group known as The Invisible.

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