Comments on: Community Activist, Poet, Educator Al Robles Passes on May 2 – Video http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/2009/05/03/community-activist-poet-educator-al-robles-passes-on-may-2/ The Official Blog of the Manzanar Committee Wed, 28 Jul 2010 22:09:00 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.com/ By: Hugh Thomas Patterson http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/2009/05/03/community-activist-poet-educator-al-robles-passes-on-may-2/#comment-522 Hugh Thomas Patterson Fri, 15 May 2009 00:37:43 +0000 http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/?p=668#comment-522 A gift for the man who gave us so much. Uncle Al gave me the chance to write again, something I gave up on but was inspired back into by his guiding hand. This is part of a 20 poem series about Manong Al: Seed Sown Your seed now planted It's weeds now grow Through sidewalk cracks Through Brick wall Old Manong, we find a way To write our poems Like the weed we grow strong We will not stop Our ink spills like blood Crimson across the pulp A thousand hands now write as one Your inspiration gives us life Our pens once dry Now run with ink Our hearts once heavy Now lighten with a faith A faith born from your promise Your gift unseen To those who cannot understand Our pens now glide Across the paper landscapes Across our imaginations Your gift, in our hands Like raw clay waiting for shape Our minds now churn Churn with the pulse of our ancestors Tradition burns like desire Deep within darkened city streets Our thoughts now travel Across the seas of time Our thoughts now cry out The chain broken Once holding us back Now setting us free Your gift ten thousand flowers Blooming under a blood red moon Images brought forth in pain Now soothed with the balm of kindness You give us life As you walk past death No chains hold you now You are free To watch over your children Child of the pen Born to the paper Our gift is yours A gift for the man who gave us so much. Uncle Al gave me the chance to write again, something I gave up on but was inspired back into by his guiding hand. This is part of a 20 poem series about Manong Al:

Seed Sown

Your seed now planted
It’s weeds now grow
Through sidewalk cracks
Through Brick wall
Old Manong, we find a way
To write our poems
Like the weed we grow strong
We will not stop
Our ink spills like blood
Crimson across the pulp
A thousand hands now write as one
Your inspiration gives us life
Our pens once dry
Now run with ink
Our hearts once heavy
Now lighten with a faith
A faith born from your promise
Your gift unseen
To those who cannot understand
Our pens now glide
Across the paper landscapes
Across our imaginations
Your gift, in our hands
Like raw clay waiting for shape
Our minds now churn
Churn with the pulse of our ancestors
Tradition burns like desire
Deep within darkened city streets
Our thoughts now travel
Across the seas of time
Our thoughts now cry out
The chain broken
Once holding us back
Now setting us free
Your gift ten thousand flowers
Blooming under a blood red moon
Images brought forth in pain
Now soothed with the balm of kindness
You give us life
As you walk past death
No chains hold you now
You are free
To watch over your children
Child of the pen
Born to the paper
Our gift is yours

]]> By: Hugh Patterson http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/2009/05/03/community-activist-poet-educator-al-robles-passes-on-may-2/#comment-492 Hugh Patterson Sun, 10 May 2009 16:23:42 +0000 http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/?p=668#comment-492 Al gave all of us who wanted to be creative a chance by paving the road that allowed us to travel a creative path. He will be missed. Here is a link to a series of pieces I wrote in his memory: http://roguechemistlabs.blogspot.com/ Al gave all of us who wanted to be creative a chance by paving the road that allowed us to travel a creative path. He will be missed. Here is a link to a series of pieces I wrote in his memory:

http://roguechemistlabs.blogspot.com/

]]> By: Kerry Cababa http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/2009/05/03/community-activist-poet-educator-al-robles-passes-on-may-2/#comment-474 Kerry Cababa Mon, 04 May 2009 01:53:11 +0000 http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/?p=668#comment-474 I'm so sorry to hear this news. Al was like the pied piper to me, as he was always surrounded by students eager to share their experiences at their first pilgrimage. He always encouraged them to express themselves, and he walked the walk and talked the talk with them. My deepest sympathies to all who loved him. I’m so sorry to hear this news. Al was like the pied piper to me, as he was always surrounded by students eager to share their experiences at their first pilgrimage. He always encouraged them to express themselves, and he walked the walk and talked the talk with them. My deepest sympathies to all who loved him.

]]> By: Gann Matsuda http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/2009/05/03/community-activist-poet-educator-al-robles-passes-on-may-2/#comment-472 Gann Matsuda Sun, 03 May 2009 22:49:17 +0000 http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/?p=668#comment-472 I too miss having Al (and Bill) at Manzanar At Dusk. They contributed greatly to the program each year. Al's poems were the best. And when I think of their work on the I-Hotel...they will be missed tremendously. I too miss having Al (and Bill) at Manzanar At Dusk. They contributed greatly to the program each year. Al’s poems were the best. And when I think of their work on the I-Hotel…they will be missed tremendously.

]]> By: Jenni Kuida http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/2009/05/03/community-activist-poet-educator-al-robles-passes-on-may-2/#comment-471 Jenni Kuida Sun, 03 May 2009 15:37:35 +0000 http://blog.manzanarcommittee.org/?p=668#comment-471 Al was brilliant. I loved seeing him saunter into the Manzanar After Dark programs in Independence for years. He was laughter and humbleness and poetry in motion. His poems were written on scraps of paper that had to be turned in circles to read them for they were written on every available space, along every margin. Al was brilliant. I loved seeing him saunter into the Manzanar After Dark programs in Independence for years. He was laughter and humbleness and poetry in motion. His poems were written on scraps of paper that had to be turned in circles to read them for they were written on every available space, along every margin.

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