Lulee A. Falcon

Once upon a time there was a park full of trees, ducks, lakes and benches. In the center of the park there was this beautiful and very old tree. The tree was extremely tall and had very long branches. Some of the branches were so twisted they looked like crazy arms inviting the children to play with them. The tree was tremendously wide and big, people used to say this was because of all the rain water he drank. He was 103 years old and was really tired. His branches were becoming fragile and the park rangers were afraid they would brake. The rangers built a fence around the old tree and posted a sign. The tree didn’t understand what the sign said, he didn’t know how to read, he only knew that the children were no longer playing with him and this made him very, very sad. One day he overhead someone reading the sign out loud - Centennial Tree, Historical Monument. Please keep away. - He got scared. His branches will never hold children, and he will never again hear them laugh. He w...

Había una vez un parque lleno de árboles, patitos, lagos y bancas. En el centro del parque había un precioso y muy viejo árbol. El árbol era muy alto y tenía ramas muy largas. Algunas de sus ramas parecían brazos locos invitando a los niños a jugar con él. El viejo árbol era inmensamente ancho y grande, la gente decía que eso era porque había tomado mucha agua de lluvia. Tenía 103 años y estaba bastante cansado. Sus ramas estaban tan frágiles que los guarda parques tenían miedo que se rompieran y decidieron levantar una cerca alrededor del árbol y poner un letrero. El árbol no entendía lo que el letrero decía, él no sabia leer, lo único que sabia era que ya los niños no jugaban con él y eso lo ponía muy, pero muy triste. Un día el árbol escuchó a una persona leyendo el letrero en alta voz - Árbol centenario. Monumento histórico nacional. Por favor no pase. El árbol se asusto mucho. Sus ramas jamás volverían a jugar con los niños, nos los escucharía reír más. Moriría solo y triste. Al...

I was lucky enough to grow up in the 70th and attended the fist experimental high school in south Florida. They called it experimental because the high school had a college structure. You were allowed to pick your teacher and classes. Because of my lack of knowledge in that respect I was assigned to an English class that had sophomores, juniors and seniors together. Back then I didn’t know how lucky I had been. We had a new teacher every 6 weeks, and with the new teacher a new form of teaching. We learned how to read a newspaper, for a 16 years old girl that was something new, learned to analyzed music, specially Simon & Garfunkel , and I was introduced to Rod Mckuen and his different type of poetry and writing. It was love at first sight, I was hooked for life. Many moons have passed since my high school years but Rod Mckuen has always been in my life. Today I found in the internet my favorite poem from Rod Sunday It's hard to believe it can be so quiet after such...