Below is a sample poem from Mr. Diego's book, THE POETRY OF ROBERTO DIEGO
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Poem 1 | Poem 3| Poem 4 | Poem 5
THE DEAD MAN AND THE GARDENER
The old man had few friends at all.
But those he had were true.
The grey-haired gardener was a friend
an honest man who knew
the old man died quite unfulfilled
and knew not what do.
For some men die with thoughts unsaid
and too long do conceal.
And in a dream he saw his friend,
"Will you my thoughts reveal?
For though I am a man quite gone,
with nothing in my head,
my soul still turns inside my grave
until all things are said.
And though I rot inside my tomb,
I ask for you this day
to move me to the flower bed
so I can have my say."
The gardener knew just what was up
for he did know his friend.
His life had turned a sorry course
at some forgotten bend.
He lay stone cold inside the tomb
with feeling left unsaid.
But he could then his death resume
once in the flower bed.
And so at night he stole around.
The gardener was a friend
who knew his friend and loved him well,
his body now to send
beneath the bed of flowers grown
and somehow then to say
the thoughts that few had ever known
so his soul could go away.
And so the winter came and went,
the gardener worked with care
to make the flowers come up bright
and all their beauty share.
Over there a rose bush, red and glowing
came up to loudly say,
"Oh, how I loved the love of mine
the woman who did stay
with me through all the years of hope
and never went away."
And over there the gardener saw
a bed of daisies blue,
for all the lovely women known
and hundreds of them too,
some big, some bright, some small,
some innocent and true.
"To all the youthful loves I had,
here's what I thought of you."
And for the lovely children
there now grew beside his feet,
four tulips for the Easter times
when they made life complete;
the laughing, playing children,
two blue and two of pink,
so like the way he loved them
no one did ever think.
And in the middle there he saw
a thorn bush dark and tense.
The thought that killed the soul was here,
but then it all made sense.
For on that darkened thorn bush
there grew a lovely sight,
a rose meant for forgiveness,
a pure and royal white.
And then right where his head did lay
beneath the garden bright,
there grew a single orchid
so tall and also white.
"For you my grey-haired gardener,
a specimen so rare,
for you who were a friend of mine,
and kind enough to care."
And there above the garden,
one clean and precious night,
while the gardener knelt there working,
he saw a brilliant sight.
For in the clouds above him
his friend's free soul was there,
a smile, and bright eyes shining,
then he flew off through the air.
Copyright 1999 by Roberto Diego