Por otra parte, Lady Lee Andrews, amén del trabajo artístico, se dedica al comercio en su Viejo San Juan, porque como se sabe en el mundo de la literatura, la poesía, en general, no da para vivir, pero es un arte que da vida. Y ella les saca partido a ambas cosas. Lo cual no está nada mal.
En un primer momento, me llamó poderosamente la atención el nombre de Lady Lee Andrews. Pensé para mí: no tiene apellidos latinos, ¿de dónde será? La pregunta se aclaró cuando supe que es hija de padre australiano y madre puertorriqueña, grandes aficionados a la literatura. Fue de ellos de quienes aprendió nuestra invitada, desde muy joven, la importancia del arte y la literatura. Desde primer grado ya la niña daba visos de que iba a ser poeta.
Lady Lee Andrews. Ha publicado siete libros. Baste decir que su poesía celebrada y acogida con entusiasmo por el público.
Un último apunte sobre Lady Lee Andrews. Como promotora cultural en Puerto Rico cabe destacar la creación de uno de los más originales proyectos de divulgación de la poesía: el “museo de poesía” The Poets Passage. Sito en el Viejo San Juan. Allí se celebran Noches de Poesías y arte. Lo original de The Poets Passage es que todos los artistas, músicos, bailarines y poetas tienen un espacio expresarse y los poetas un micrófono abierto los 7 días de la semana, para declamar sus poesías. Sí, The Poets Passage abre de lunes a domingo de 10:00 a.m. a 7:00 p.m. Una auténtica hazaña cultural que tiene como fin la misma poesía.
Finalmente, cuando se leen las composiciones de Lady Lee, el lector nota la sutil conexión de la poeta con lo divino. Esto es perceptible en las alusiones al mundo de las musas o cuando menciona a Dios y al mundo trascendente. Palabras como espíritu, cielo, Dios, fe, tan cuenta la honda sensibilidad poética de nuestra invitada. Luego tendremos la oportunidad de escucharla.
POEMAS DE LADY LEE ANDREWS
These will give you a good idea of where I’m at in my writing sphere.
New Poems
Spirit
When I’m a spirit
Will I flow through the water
Invisible?
Will I join the colors
Gentle light before the day?
Will I expand with the stars?
Or, be the breath the universe exudes?
Where will I be Me again?
Will I shrink? Will I
Be an ethereal idea of a muse?
When I open my eyes
Will I be confused?
By feeling the wave of God,
Will it induce the peace of heaven?
Will I be present?
Will I linger
In your mind
Under
Imaginary birds
Flying across the sky;
A stroke of paint
From a strangers eye—
Will the details reveal the magic?
Will I be lost?
Will everything be dark?
Quiet? Loud?
—
The Chimes
Letters roll off your tongue into words I love.
They bathe me when I need them most.
Some leave a smile behind on your lips
To catch me whispering for
.more.when.I.need.them.
To dance to the idea of being kissed
Without being touched
Teases Lust
To blush
And slip away.
Say what you may say.
Your eyes understand my confusion.
They see me breathe before I make a sound—
And catch me
Before I fall deeper into their spell
to wake me up to
see love being made to
save me from myself—
Letting me lose the doubt that filled my eyes before I saw you again—
The Clues were caught in glass jars
In the middle of the night
When they shone the brightest!
We had each other’s hand in our hearts
Like children hold their dreams with magic in the air!
Oh my living God! We are here!
There.
You see me. I see you.
You feel me. I feel you.
You touch me
And Time leaps to form direction
To guide me
Back home
Where my heart waits for me
To bring this feeling back to it—
To keep it safe —to put it on the altar of my Faith.
For as you know,
Little ideas are tied to strings
And strung
on drift wood to
hang in the wind to
sing as the breeze blows through
our imagination
And once in a while,
Two will strike a chord that carries peace
To where it’s needed.
—
The Empty Room in the Page
When you read between the lines,
The true poet resides
In the silence
that stole your thoughts
when their words
Took off
Taking your ego for a ride—
You fly
When you read between the lines.
The pain is massive
In this empty room.
Way too much to
Comb through
The night!
When you tread
Between the lines
You might see yourself
And wonder why.
Everything you grasp
Here comes alive.
When you read between the lines
An invisible idea
Turns to form colors
And sound
To wraparound our senses
Designing linear matter
In an intangible world—
To no fault it difficult
To reach for
And make appear.
The key to care
Is Divine;
When you read between the lines.
—
A Miracle
Lost in prayer,
I feel my thought
Form an alliance
With words
Caught in my throat
For judging myself
More, first —than,
Any one else
Has, or, ever will.
Dear heart!
To fulfill its thrill
I’ll call out
And sing
To its content!
Let me honor
Your lament.
—An attempt
To reinvent Love,
Should be enough
To cast off
Sin’s shadows
Seeking lies
suffocating
And consuming
Our truth.
And like that
Whoosh
It’s gone!
And on the page
Appears
The
Poem.
—
Earth Bound
Clay hands
Began to mold me.
The forest bed
Was moist and
Fresh.
My roots were being pulled
By the seed to impregnate me
At will
With desire to drink
From the lust to live.
A primal take
A primal give;
—The tip off a cliff;
The peak of pleasure’s
Ephemeral escape
Takes place and goes
Throughout my body
To leave the heart wanting more.
No remorse for love.
Hush! —softly brush…
Warning: highly charged cells
Shock to touch.
It’s stunning
How our bodies flush
Into what
We need.
A perfect mix of dreams
Flowing into each other’s breath
Filling our mouth with welcome.
Each tongue given the freedom to explore far from
Time’s inhibitions.
So, come at leisure.
Sincere.
Any
Deeper
And one—
Disappears.
—
The Saint
I’m no saint.
I set the bait.
The sins of my youth
Are forbidden to forget.
But you can’t win
If you don’t bet.
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