SAN FRANCISCO POETS
Jerry Ferraz
The word Guitar derives from the sanskrit word gita meaning song.
e.g. The Bhagahavid Gita is the "song of God".
The gypsies hail originally from India and they were called, in Europe, Gitanos. Gitanes (like the french cigarettes) etc, in other words "singers"and they played guitars. The structure of the guitar evolved from the North African oud (meaning branch of wood) which the Moors brought to Spain.
The word lute is a slur of the word la oud or li oud and from this they fashioned the guitar.
Also sitar is from sita meaning love. She was the wife of Rama in the Indian epic poem, The Ramayana. So guitar is "singer" and sitar is "lover".Posters from Past events
SILVER BIRDS
STRIKING TWELVE
Drawing Near the Cloud Heights
An Evening of Music Poetry and Song
Rites of Love
Hymns To The Beloved
Return of the Red Comet
Catch The DuendeGuitarra
This is my dead companion
I used to take him everywhere I go
Alas, his poor old wooden head
It was always slightly out of tune
Like a moon
When it is almost full
His strains were somehow uncomplete
Yet like the moon's unstrummed
deaf and dumb condition
He was light
And perfect for the road
Ever at hand to cheer me on my way
One night I plucked
The wild wine-colored rose
And the strutting spider's thread lie broken
And dreaming only of my guitarra's shape
I saw my love
Who lies beyond the sea
Oh, the gypsy
He cannot cross the water
For he fears the Duende
The fire in his blood will escape!
So like a bandit who has stolen my affections
The ghost of my guitarra sits in my lap
And vainly serenades another
And yet another empty glass
Ah, guitarra, guitarra
Virtuoso amor!
You alone
You were the last of your kind
Did we not say with one voice
"Vamanos!"
How could I have refused the gift
Which only God may give
Sweet Youth!
Adios!
Sa ha ido con Dios
(it is gone with God)
Oh, how the bones in my fingers ache
But sometimes
When there is no one left to listen
And the barren moon
Like a waning memory
Repeats her tragic steps
Her fabled fiery dance
Across my lonesome little balcony
Faintly...faintly...who sings?
For though these eyes can no longer see
My heart, secretly
Flies out and tells me
That the world is still
Very beautiful
And that I too was an instrument
Of God's holy abandon
And to remember this
I take up the cross of my companion once again
And wander the streets of our beloved
San Francisco
And when the spirit moves
And where the spirits please
I pour out my song on some chance
Blood-red rose
Nailed to these exquisite airs
And the Duende weeping whispers
Ole!
© Jerry Ferraz
Read Pieta for Tony Vaughan by Jerry Ferraz
Read Zen Fable for Philip Whalen Roshi by Jerry Ferraz
Read Triptych of poems for Susan Birkealnd by Jerry Ferraz
Totem by Jerry Ferraz
pen and ink
The wandering Troubador trudges on through the dense fog of contemporary policitical high jinx and cosmic malaise leading us back to the pure fount of neo-classical animism and blind faith through song and experimental flights of musical inspiration we here designate
"tru-bop".
Jerry Ferraz is a beloved regular of San Francisco's spoken word and folk scene. He plays somewhere in the city most nights of the week, at spoken word open mics, impromtu on the cities buses, or at one of his favorite haunts in San Francisco's North Beach district. Jerry is currently in the studio working on his third cd entitled "Destiny is a Woman". He hosts the Poetry reading and open mic at Bird and Beckett on the 1st & 3rd Thursday of Each Month.
See photo of Jerry Ferraz with Tony Vaughan from last year at the Jerry Garcia Amphitheatre for the Poets and Trees event.
Winter Storm by Jerry Ferraz ( pen and ink)
