Echoes:: A Collection of Free Verse Poems

By Rebeca Frees

Collecting memories is inevitable. As human beings, each one of us goes through life experiencing events, feelings, and sometimes tragedies. Some of the poems in this collection express the emotion felt at such times by the author. Some pieces convey whimsy and fun, whereas others travel to mundane places, such as garage sales, childhood memories, scary nights, and days gone by. Altogether this collection offers the reader time to unwind and enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 24, 2010
• ISBN: 9781449087593

Rebeca Frees

Rebeca Frees was born in Torren, Coahuila, Mxico. She emigrated to the United States at age twelve and wrote her first poem in English at fifteen. She wrote her second poem twenty-three years later while attending an adult learning center in Schertz, Texas. One of her ESL teachers suggested that she write poetry. She has not stopped since. During her academic period, as a woman returning to higher education, she was published three consecutive years in the Belles Lettres, a college literary magazine. She has also been published in the 2008 Dreamcatcher poetry anthology in San Antonio, Texas. She is an active member of the writers group Unlimited Horizons. She holds a B.A. in Elementary Education, with certification in Bilingual Education and ESL, an M.A. in Bicultural Studies, and an M.S. in Education. She resides in Universal City, Texas

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© 2010 Rebeca Frees. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/16/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8759-3 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8757-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8758-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8759-3 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010910453

Printed in the United States of America

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Front cover photo by Larry Waddy

Contents

Duality

Final Balance

On War

Regretfully Simple

Midnight Companion

Irrevocably Yours

Conclusion

According to Carl Sagan…

Conundrum

A History Lesson Remembered

Word: Thou Art Sound

The USS Bunker Hill CV-17

Twofold

Love Seat

Redeeming Rain

Solemn

Readiness

Intersection

My Family

Search

Traveler

Destiny

Subtle Glimpse

In Routing Out

Identity

Indignity

Puzzled

Belated Surge

Tabby

Reflection

Native American

Resurrection

Urban Hunting

Reminiscence

Pale Rider

Third Age

Winter

Unanticipated

Presentiment

Nameless

Natural Progression

Missing Dad

Mirage

Before Dawn

Respectful Gesture to the Moors

Waiting for the Flood

Chapter One, Verse Two

Enemies Five

Archangel

Elected Path

Burnout

Experience

Blindness

Finality

Cosmic Associate

Anniversary

Time Was

Matter of Fact

Nephew

Euterpe

Melancholy

Acceptance

For the New Year

A Mercenary Thought

On Coping

Regrets

My Plea

Feelings

Surprise

A Compassionate Thought

Communion

A Personal View

Eventuality

Automobile

Baptist Medical Center at Dallas Street

My Trinity

Uncertainty

Stubborn Heart

Haunted

Brother-in-Law

Child of Passion

Chimera

Compact Revisited

Elusive Rights

Forever Puzzling Questions

Full Moon

Futile Monologue

Hesitant

In Between

The Fifth

Yule Tidings

Wanderers

I Want to Believe; In Retrospect

Duality

Not born to a language holding me captive,

driven by poets dreaming in lands I never saw,

I – composing verses – do not understand sometimes –

Was it an unpardonable choice?

How could logic explain to the mind

what the spirit wants?

I love Nervo, Neruda, Bécquer, and Paz,

but Dickinson, Nimoy, and Wordsworth also bring joy to my heart.

Was it an unpardonable choice?

Sometimes, I must feel contrite.

Genuflecting as a penitent, I pray,

"Sancho Panza, tell Don Quixote

I also strive for truth."

Was it an unpardonable choice?

Final Balance

Lately adding up my completed life –

surprisingly I realized I wasn’t finished.

There were other things to accomplish,

dreams to fulfill and places to explore.

Even if my legs no longer moved as fast as long ago

and slow blinding curtains in my eyes made

writing and exploring difficult sometimes,

I continued meeting people and places not seen before.

My childish heart free of boundaries

still kept wishing, wondering for new feelings to blossom.

My spirit complied, giving the body strength

to go on against insurmountable