St. Philip's

A pelican adorns the
shrine of your crucifixion.
She gave her blood for
her young.

You give your blood
for us, too.

Your wine at
the wedding at Cana spoke
of you the Redeemer.


Dedicated to Father Paul
and Father Matt.
Those who love much...

Art

If we are Christ's workmanship,
"poema"- are we His all
in all?

From the Fall of man to the martyrs- the length of
time for our call.

Many have accepted
Jesus throughout His reign
on the earth.

I want to join Him in
the Harvest-
the wine and wheat
of His birth.

Heart

My heart has been broken in unusual ways.
A prophet told me that once and it is true.

I have seen the heights of heaven, the depths
of hell, too.

However, the hardest thing to
do is to accept what is, not
what could be, what might have been.

That is a form of heaven
and hell where God can begin-

to press through doors of
denial to a place of where
Jesus is.

I opened my heart to Him.

Lord Byron

You spoke to me
when you spoke of her beauty.

I feel your heart
for the woman I
am.

I see your teaching to
those who need me
to be myself.

To the tune of Hebrew Melodies.
Selah.

Copyright 2008

Boutanniere

I saw a
young woman
give a flower
to a famous opera
singer.

Written at a Suzanna Guzman
and friends concert
at St. Andrew's of Pasadena.

By Gisella Perezarce
09-12-09

Pinwheel

Going different directions-
Where does the wind come from?

How does the pin-wheel-
love it's beauty with the
direction of the wind?

The beauty of the colors
blows both ways.

It is by the breath
of the Ancient of
Days.

O God, Blow your breath on
this election. May Jesus
see how we love him
and show our colors
for Him.

By Gisella Perezarce
09-12-08

Flying toward the Sun-

Look, I am flying.
A small bird that has wings.
They are working and I am
heading toward the direction of my dreams.

I see a man with a gun
aiming at me. However, Angels with
shields protect me so I can reach the Sun.

Why did I seek the direction
I did? Why do my feet not burn on
the brightness in me? The Sun burns
so bright.

At this place within me, I have
stopped to breathe, catch my breath.

For the Sun says I arrived at faithfulness.
Many seek the Sun, but it may burn them too.
The feet of a bird can fly on earth for you.
The Sun is my landing place- to seek
what was lost.

Jesus carries the burden,
His work on the cross.

Will you fly with me,
to reach your dreams?

The Sun is burning hot.
It won't burn you,
if you stop.

Just prepare your heart
for the Son of God. He is
the answer, the dream-
the direction for those
who dare to fly.

I love Him.

By Gisella Perezarce
09-12-08

Ambassador

An ambassador from the insect world greeted me today.
His arms were opened wide as he struck a gallant pose.
He was a praying mantis with wings-
in the most regal repose.

I stood and stared,
smiled and greeted him
as I knew the moment was rare.

I told him,
"You're beautiful"
and the words echoed in my ear.

I said the phrase again and again,
he was sent to me,
as a friend,
to remind me of this lesson once again.

The Ocean

He said that Arabic was like
the ocean-
one word with many species
therein.

Where many dialects exist-
can I find a place to begin?

Am I already at the marker...
ready to start?

That is my heart
as a follower of God.

Glory

Each child's hand
joined with that of
our Master, brings joy to
Heaven and music to earth.

Christians are not always right...

Dear Jesus,

If we claim Christ but kill our brother
are we free?

If we promote wealth and life,
while we kill the children alive
are we truly merciful?

If we care more about ourselves than the poor,
are we just?

Finding

When we lose something,
do we find ourselves?

Perfume-

Her prayer
arose to heaven.

A life well lived.

Treasure

My family is a treasure chest,
that I have never opened.

A pearl necklace,
I'm trying on for size.

Storm

In the eye of the storm,
there is peace,
calm from life's circumstance.

La Traviata

My grandma passed on September 2nd, 2008 surrounded by her children and grandchildren. I loved her much and wrote this poem for her.


My grandmother, Laura Perez Arce de Aram passed on tonight. I wanted to share a poem in her honor.

LA TRAVIATA, 1853

Verdi's fame eclipsed that of his predecessors.
He wrote of his long "years in the galley" to the Countess.
He remembered days of growing up in Milan.
You remembered Mexico, Paris, and the "Deep Purple" song.
Like Verdi, "How many dear and sad memories" followed you.
May the crucible of our loneliness kill us too.
In order to be re-born as a poetess, philanthropist, or political activist.
Making our mark for the world to see.
Now you are truly set free.
I love you.

2 de septiembre de 2008

L'incoronazione di Poppea

Monteverdi wrote of love in
this famous opera and rightly so.

Nero was a man of intensity,
not always with wisdom,
as we know.

Do we crown our Poppeas
of beauty and stature?

How about the Octavias
we promised love ever after?