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Magnolia May 16
White, Yellow, and Brown
Different shapes, sizes, and textures
Curly, straight, and wavy
You look at your reflection and do not see it

You're brown
You’re slim, light, and skinny
Your body does not resemble what it means to be a woman in your culture

A Latina woman has curves
A Latina woman's skin glistens underneath the sun
She contains an inner glow that resembles the strength she holds.

A Latina women speaks fluent English and Spanish
The purr that rolls off her tongue when she rolls her “R’s”
Her accent is what blows men away
Her accent is seen as exotic and from another world
But yours is different

You look at your reflection and do not see it
There is no purr because you can't roll the “R’s” off your tongue
Your slight accent is what worries you
Afraid your accent is going to get you a stare instead of a wink.
Afraid to speak you stay quiet and become discrete

You look at your reflection and see
brown sugar that’s sweet and fine
Your skin contains different specks of color which makes you different
The sun captures the qualities that you contain within.

You look at your reflection and see
A woman that speaks the language of romance
The language that distinguishes you from the crowd
The language that brings you strength and courage
The accent you once feared would bring you shame is the same one you have come to love.

You look at your reflection and see
A woman that has grown internally to love herself for the way she is
you contain the inner glow that resembles the strength and knowledge you have attained.

The eclipse has finally passed the sun and your  time to shine has arrived.

White, Yellow, and Brown
Different shapes, sizes, and textures
Curly, straight, and wavy
You look at your reflection and see
A Latina woman.
Lexii1602 Oct 2018
la vida es demasiado corta como para desperdiciarla en cosas estúpidas, vive la vida al máximo, no mires atrás porque no es a donde vas
lil bit of stuff i know from spanish class ***** . sorry if i did anything wrong .
Solitude taught me
I am capable to bear things
I thought I wouldn't be able to survive.

Patience taught me
I can be more grateful
for the things I longed for.

Love taught me
I can be loved
I am worth it
and that the only thing
that really matters
is that despite everything
what you feel in your heart,
will last forever.
I don't know if everything is settled down in life,
and it's cruel to imagine it like that
many live their lives believing
that their fate can't change
because life is preset.
I love the rain
that comes in the morning
announcing a new day
has arrived,
it cleans my soul so deeply
that I feel my spirit so alive
the smell of the fresh trees
and the singing of the small birds
are so sweet to my ears
its smell is so good to my nose.
Vivir es morir despacio




To live is to die slowly
i know, everything can be poetry. i got that memo already.
i have a question tho: when is despacio 2 coming out?
Pao May 2018
she fell in love that night
8:12 PM, March 4th 2017
with a latin woman
her curves illuminating
in the ultraviolet lights
of her bedroom

she tasted paradise,
fingers tracing the outline
of her *******
their bodies interlocked in the heat between them
whisperings of 'i love you'
was all each of them could promise that night of
March 4th 2017
Carl Halling Apr 2018
You told me that your name was Maria,
And that you came
From the Netherlands,
But you looked more like a Latina,
With flowing dark hair,
Perhaps a natural tan,

I was in love,
So much in love,
But I let love pass me by,
All through my life,
So much of my life,
I have let love pass me by.

You left me with a casual ‘I’ll see you’,
But I looked for you
All over London town,
It’s like that I was paralysed with fear,
I could have sworn
I saw you on the underground,

I was in love,
So much in love,
But I let love pass me by,
All through my life,
So much of my life,
I have let love pass me by.
'I Have Let Love Pass Me By' began life as a song, based on a melody I sketched out when I was 18, and with sketchy lyrics related to a lost love, while new lyrics were recently written as of April 2018, but still referring to the same incident of lost love that took place when I was 18.
The voice Mar 2018
I couldn’t wait for my class to end so I could run outside and find
el carrito (Stand)
I fell in love with the feeling and the taste before I even knew what love was.
I stood outside holding my mother’s hand waiting for her to ask
the times she did not ask I would pull on her plaid, decently long skirt and looked over towards the man selling raspados

She knew what I wanted and she knew how much I wanted it.
I focused on ...
el carrito
as if looking at it would be enough to call the gods of raspados to have mercy over me

They cost $1.50. My mother gives me the money
I run over
The man says

te faltan, no es suficiente (not enough)

I was devastated, I began to take step back slowly, I dared to not look at my mother with this disappointment.
I barely noticed the lady standing behind the man, she was the boss

I noticed she was looking towards my mother
Maybe she saw in my mother’s face something convincing, or maybe my confusion triggered a mother instinct
Whatever it was, it was enough

As I walked away slowly with my first heart break,
the lady behind says,

tiene antojo, tu daselo (She has a craving, give it to her)

I thanked her with my smile and with a slight flitter in my heart of happiness and even more with my taste buds having a celebration just by looking at how this raspado was being made

The beautiful sound of the mountain man, holding a metal, rectangular shaver of ice
containing it all inside until it was ready to be placed in the cup. The small stones pile one by one when crushed
Just big enough to hold shape and small enough to enjoy

Then the miel con sabor a tamarindo  being delicately set on top, like a creamy blanket in liquid form

Si, con limon y sal, porfavor, y poquito chile (add salt and lemon, and a bit of spice... Please)
because my mom taught me how to be polite
and then, to my surprise the actual fruit
tamarindo on top, a light brown coloring with a soft cover on the hardened seed inside

It decorated with grace and delight, the treat awaiting for me
I felt the richness


There I learned my first lesson of kindness
It is part of a longer piece... It is Nonfiction.
Raspados are similar to icecones but very Hispanic. I suggest trying one. They vary in flavors (guava, pineapple, lime, mango, etc...)
Amanda S Oct 2017
i come from whispers of Venezuelan lullabies
y las stories que viene del corazon de mi mama.
the annual celebracion de Corpus Christi is a
constant reminder de la amarilla, azul, y sangre roja
coursing through my veins.
when i was younger,
yo baile durante horas con mi papa
and sung at the top of my lungs
until the last bit of oxygen
en mi pulmones deteriorated.
mi cultura is the incarnation of who i am,
it inhabits every cell en mi cuerpo,
and never will i ever consider
disintegrating the ashes on which mis ancestros
were founded upon.
it's the embodiment of my children, and their children;
it's mi vida y mi alma,
and no one could ever tear down the walls
of this Venezuelan throne.
to those who've experienced discrimination and segregation toward their ethnicity; to those who've always seemed encaged in their identity; to those who never thought they'd ever experience freedom - don't let anyone ever tell you to erase your culture. it is the blood running through your veins, it's the air in which you breathe - allow yourselves to be free in your own skin. embrace who you are because, in the end, it's all you have.
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