Tag: hispanic poetess (page 1 of 2)

Festival for Poetry

Festival for Poetry shared my poem, “June 04, 2020 in Buffalo, NY,” on their site! Have a look and tell me what you think, won’t you? Of course, you can also read it here.

I had to write it after watching the protests over the summer. I wanted to scream at my screen and, well, writing is how I scream. And laugh and cry … you know how it is. After I wrote it, I almost didn’t share it. I have a thing about sharing the personal stuff.

Isn’t All Writing Personal?

Yes, I know all writing is personal to an extent. But poetry is raw. It’s feelings and thoughts that reveal bits and pieces of truth. Not always the whole truth or an eternal truth, but even a momentary truth is still true, isn’t it?

The rage you feel? Perhaps it isn’t really “you.” Perhaps you wouldn’t actually act on it. But, in that moment, your rage is real. And there is a truth in that emotion, if you’re willing to sort through the ephemeral to find it.

Anyhow, I’m grateful that Festival for Poetry shared my poem on their site. I’m also grateful to the lovely bloggers who’ve liked it. I do feel a bit exposed but it’s in a pure way rather than an insecure way, and I’m choosing to sit in my happy about it.

A Heart on Fire

A Heart on Fire

A heart on fire
 Burns away
 Decades pass
 Scars remain
 Ashes scatter
 Gather again
 A new flame rises
 An old heart pains
 Not forgotten 
 Sorrow wanes
 Hope rekindles
 Faith, reclaimed
 As living dwindles
 Love’s regained
 A heart on fire
 Burns, Always

“A Heart on Fire,” is a simple poem about the most difficult topic. So much has been written about Love yet it remains undefined. It can be felt even if cannot be described. It can be present, even if it goes unrecognized. It’s one of the few things whose store increases by being given away … and it comes in many forms, not just romantic, intimate embraces.

I suppose it isn’t the best timing, but I am interested in reading Love poetry that isn’t necessarily about those romantic, intimate partnerships. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But, where are the Odes to Friendship? The Sonnets for our Work Spouses? There are so many relationships full of LOVE—platonic, dutiful, companionate, familial, universal … I’d love to read more poems on these themes, too.

What about you? Tell me what poetry you enjoy reading and writing. Connect with me on any social media platform and let’s have a chat about poetry! Or, just share your links with me so I can see your work, too.

If you’re here for heartache, you might as well check out “Beast.” After all, I’m still here; living proof that there is life after loss.


Because we all love poems about heartbreak.

You, oh, my darling,
 Are simply a beast
 Delightfully wild
 In a world of dull things

 Trapped from your birth in a world full of sorrows
 Thrust into a life full of so much deceit
 Without any means to rise up like the others
 Sensing threats to your ego since ‘ere you could speak

 Such horrible strangeness perceived all around you
 And, wherever you turned, something new to be seen
 Afraid of your shadow and the world that surrounds you
 No patience within
 Yet you learn for you’re keen

 To make sense of the chaos of life as you see it
 There’s no sense in the madness at all
 So you deem
 Yet you’re caught in its midst as it spins all about you
 And it feels like a beautiful
 Terrible dream

 Still it spins
 How it spins
 Oh, so madly about you

 And why isn’t it just
 Just as mad
 And about you

 After all
 Isn’t it all
 All about you

 And, I, oh, my darling,
 Oh, how weak I have been
 Hefting burdens, learnt lessons—their cost, oh, so dear
 The wisdom of living I’ve earned from
 My failings—all this weight I have carried with me
 Through the years

 And the pressure of rising
 Through the pain and the worry
 To the call of a voice that lives in me, unseen
 Had me numb to the world of sensations
 Beyond me
 I lived only in shadows
 And, otherwise, dreams

 Blind by the smoke of your fire igniting
 Within me the fires I’d put out with my tears
 Moved by your face to a vivid recalling
 Of aged aspirations and infantile fears

 Thus, compelled by my memories and against all my senses,
 I whispered my sensings and knowings to you
 Through murmurs while spent lying tied up together
 In soft, gentle tones, poured my heart out for you
 With patience I tried to make sense of your madness
 And hoped that you’d reach to be free as I do

 But, you!
 Oh, you, sweet little darling
 Oh, you, wondrous, marvelous beast
 Equipped with such cunning, such faithless desires
 And an unceasing drive to gain more to feel pleased
 A need deep inside to wield power over all things
 To just use what you’re given and return not the least

 The more that I gave you
 The less that you cared
 And the more I adapted
 The less that you shared
 And for all that I lent of
 Myself to your deeds
 The less you invested
 In me and my needs

 I loved you
 Or tried to
 You wouldn't be loved
 You felt caged
 And restrained
 And unable to trust

 of those cold, sleepless nights
 of anxiety with my heart clenching tight
 full of only the deepest despair
 and hours
 of hopelessly wishing you here

 to finally recognize
 to finally see
 I am not at all like you
 Oh, no
 I am ME

 And that which I need from myself is far more
 Than you’d need me to be in your life
 And what’s more
 All that I’d need you to be for us both
 Is more than you’re willing to be 
 On your own

 Because I
 —oh, my darling—
 Am an ocean, you see
 I am vaster than any terrain
 Far more steep
 And deeper
 Than any place else that you’ve been

 I’ve my own driving forces
 I’ve my own paths to keep
 A duty to share of my life, my resources
 With all of the Earth and the life that she feeds
 For all of the creatures, the noblest and coarsest,
 Across every land that exists in my reach

 While the sound of my surf may have eased all your worries
 Lulling you into your most restful sleep
 And the sight of my body lying open before you,
 Filled you to your core with an unrestrained need
 The balm of my waters coaxed you to returning
 To cleanse and to rest—'twas your psyche I'd feed

 Recall that you walked upon just that one shore
 Only one, you decided, you’d ever explore
 And the truth is as simple as ever 
 You see
 Though my love was unceasing
 I am not what you need

 What you need is the shallowest pool
 Of a woman
 Present only for you when you feel that you need
 A light, easy dip of yourself in her waters
 And never a worry of hers must you keep

 A gazing pool—watery surface of body
 Female, adoring, and eager to please
 Prepared to reflect just for you
 Your own glory
 Back to your hungry gaze on decree

 But who
 Of her own
 Has so little to offer
 Less to explore
 And with no pressing needs
 Someone with whom you can spend a few hours
 Pleasing yourself at your leisure and speed

 A beautifully wrought
 Gilded bust of a woman
 Perhaps you’d prefer
 On your travels to keep
 For your pride and your vanity
 Wholly unbounded
 Emerge from an ego unrestrained in its deeds

 And let’s not forget
 Your most weak, basest impulse
 A muddy little puddle
 Of a woman you’d need
 To look down on upon when you’re feeling inferior
 One who'll smile in assurance as she just lies beneath
 Offering up all the filth you desire
 And on whom you can wipe off your boots as you leave

 But, I, do recall,
 Am an ocean, you, beastie
 And, you, how you'd drown in my depths
 If you’d please
 Venture to try to and make sense of my waters
 Or the treasures I guard deep inside of my being
 For, there, in the furthermost depths of my darkness
 In the blackest of dwellings within me I keep …
 Where even your brutally large claws are powerless
 And even your sharpest of eyes cannot see
 Where your huffing and puffing of breath is quite useless
 And the strength of your muscles ceases to be
 … the secrets of life I’d have lovingly whispered
 In the furthest abyss of myself they now sleep

 So, off with you then
 Just be gone, darling beastie
 Oh, you sweet, simple, foul little thing

 How I hope you create the successes you’ve dreamed of
 May you live out the rest of your life with your things
 Happy, at last, as you choose to define it
 High upon your own opinions—rise with Daedalus' wings

 And let there be always and ever
 A woman
 Just one, maybe two
 Very well, then
 How’s three

 All of them of that one sort or another
 Ever available
 To echo your speech
 Lovely and easy and sparkling creatures
 Each fitting neatly in your fantasy niche
 To shine bright as their purpose
 And reflect from their surface
 Only the best and most beautiful things
 In the light that pours forth,
 While they drown in its worth,
 From their majesty, you—their own self-serving king

 Best of luck, oh, you would-be Pygmalion
 No Galatea exists for you yet
 Don’t you see
 A woman so empty inside never has been
 You would have to create the faux creature you seek

 For of flesh, blood, and bone are created
 We women
 Equal to you though you dare not agree
 And our lives aren’t empty at all, not without you
 No, it’s you who are empty
 You sad, little beast

I originally shared this poem over at Phoenix Fire Press but now it lives here. I held onto this one for a long time but decided it was time to share it with the world. That’s my trouble, you see? The whole putting-it-out-in-the-world part of being a writer and, worse, a poet.
I don’t enjoy analyzing my work for others but this one is pretty straightforward. There’s a lot of pain here—serious, soul crushing heartbreak—and yet I was happy when I wrote it. I finally felt free … and still feel free today.
I’ve learned a lot and am grateful for the lessons. I hope my Beast is doing well. I know I am.

You can head over to my Poetry page to read more of my poems, of course. But, don’t worry. They’re not all poems about heartbreak.
Although, I’m beginning to notice that melancholia may be a recurring theme in my work.

La Desgracia

La desgracia de mi vida
Fue quererte a ti
Mas que mis otros errores
El dolor de mi amor
Por ti me deje caer
Sabiendo quien eras tu
Desde que te conocí
Y aunque te ofrecí quien soy
Y todo quien he sido y quien seré
Solo me distes mentiras
Y promesas falsas para tenerme
A tu lado a tu conveniencia
Y me tiraste al suelo
Como tanta basura
Cuando por fin te aburriste
De mi humanidad
Que inconveniente es
Una mujer de sangre y piel
De pensamientos y sentimientos
En lugar de una muñeca
Hecha de madera y pintada
De la manera que tu prefieres

This poem was originally shared over at Phoenix Fire Press on July 06, 2020.

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