Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Roxanne Paola Nov 2021
i said goodbye to the desert
spit out a few grains of rust and sand
as i sat in the back of my mother's grand marquis
i was bidding farewell to the long plaid skirt i wore to school every day
the school that was mercifully unmarred by bullets
the glitter on the popcorn ceiling of my grandparents' home
the smell of an overwhelming saturday evening
which stank of discarded waste and cigarettes
we were going somewhere special
goodbye nuevo laredo

eight years later
i said goodbye again
to a neat little home
nested tightly amongst the bricks of others
a hilly backyard
bluebonnets sashaying on the side of the highway
mexican restaurants every three blocks
that could never replicate what i once had
stars and stripes holding steady in the shade of a sycamore tree
a glittering city in the distance
i was in love
and i was going somewhere special

i was elated to escape
both of my previous lives
always finding myself awash with uncertainty
adrift as i committed and uncommitted to a series of distractions
from the beastly recesses of my pruned little brain
that snarled about hopelessness
a lack of worth
and motivation
maybe i knew i was meant to run
since the moment of implantation

my new neighborhood is impeccably silent at night
no hollers to strain my ears for
no ominous pop-pop-pops
(was that a firework or could it be...)
no jovial music with thundering basses and large round drums
i eat pork drenched in teriyaki sauce
and drink green tea in the evenings
on the train, i gaze at the empty stares of other passengers
my gaze is also unreadable
i practice the strokes of a kanji
one, two, three...
my husband and i meander through temples
heavy and groaning with the weight of a thousand years
of life
benevolent buddhas and Cheshire-grinned demons
i can't help but think of the message of a western God
that my mother recited to me every night in the black of our room
sometimes i shuffle my feet in the square space of my living room
to the tune of cumbia

i used to think that i didn't have an identity
no confinement to a culture conceived by the likes of men
but i am what i am
and i never actually escaped
Hoy se casa,
hoy se casa en pandemia,
estoy a nubes de ella.

Hoy se casa
hoy se compromete
a lo inevitable.

Y yo tan lejano
tanto la descuide
me fui lejos de ella.

Hoy se casa
hoy se casa en pandemia
y yo tan lejano
tan distante con ella.

Hoy se casa
y yo tan lunero,
me siento descosido
no hay que me aguante.

Hoy se casa
hoy tocan campanas
la quiero tanto
que sonrió lejano.

Hoy se casa
y mi alma quebranta
pero luego suspiro
mi alma la deja
que hoy se casa
mi flaca poema.
Today he is getting married,
today he is getting married in a pandemic,
I'm in the clouds of it.

Today he is getting married
today he commits
to the inevitable.

And I am so far away
I neglected her so much
I went away from her.

Today he is getting married
today he is getting married in a pandemic
and me so far away
so distant with her.

Today he is getting married
and I so lunera,
I feel ripped
there is no need to put up with it.

Today he is getting married
bells ring today
I love her so much
who smiled far away.

Today he is getting married
and my soul breaks
but then I sigh
my soul leaves her
today home
my skinny poem.
Melony Martinez Mar 2021
Pan dulce se sienta en un plato de pastelería en mi cocina
Rara vez tocado, pero siempre admirado
Fresco y colorido y lleno de variedad.
Los panes delicados quedan sin comer
Todavía los compro como recordatorio de
Mi familia en otra tierra a un mundo de distancia
Parece más cercano cuando estoy rodeado por el sabor, los olores y las texturas de la casa de mi padre biológico.
Mi Familia
Mi casa en Mexico
English version
Pan dulce sits on a pastry plate in my kitchen
Rarely touched, but always admired
Fresh and colorful and full of variety
The delicate loaves go uneaten
I still buy them as a reminder of
My family in another land a world away
It seems closer when I'm surrounded by the taste and smells and textures of my birth father's home
Mi Familia
Mi casa en Mexico
Ashley Moor Feb 2021
Somewhere in northern New Mexico
a writer claims
that the first two weeks
after a long hiatus
are the hardest.
After all,
scratching the words of the Gods
on to a loose leaf paper
must be arduous for those
out of practice.
Ashley Moor Feb 2021
I’d rather be an empire builder
a lonely artisan
in the deserts outside
of Las Cruces
with the sunshine on my back
chasing destiny down
a steep cliff of Mesquite
and milkweed
to Mexico City
where the children smile
in the streets
and then on to the Guadalupe Mountains
where I’ll feel
the loneliness of my dreams
and make my way back
to Small Town America
where I’ll sit on the front porch
and revel in
a much simpler destiny
as you walk through the front gate
to greet me.
Ashley Moor Jan 2021
We rounded the corner,
the Sandia Mountains glimmering like rust-colored prophets
from the passenger seat.
Far from The Flatlands,
I traced the curves
of Mother Earth with my fingers.
I imagined the way her gentle hands
could carve existence on a whim.
Nicoline Fougner Jan 2021
I sailed on a catamaran, and let the wind guide it
I didn’t push against the current but let destiny choose it
I let it choose its people, I let it choose its place
I let it choose its timing, I let it choose its race

First thing I know, we jump off the boat
We swim under sun set and let our bodies float
We put clay on our faces, now looking all white
We laugh about it and talk for a while

The sun is down, so we start heading back
All the sudden, thousands of stars are out
We jump off again, time goes in slow-mo
Water to the hips, I was given a mango

A mango so tender and sweet
It almost swept me off my feet
While sharing laughter and lifelong conversations
These travellers became my constellations

I sailed on a catamaran, and let the wind guide it
It left me with amazing friends and joy wrapped around it
This excruciating happiness was like an oracle
And little did I know, it was my mango miracle
This is set in Mexico, Bacalar, a "seven shades of blue" lagoon.
This poem describes the happiest I've felt, ever. The kind of happiness you feel to the core. It taught me that when you let go of the control you might impose on your life, it can take you such unexpected places where you get to explore new feelings. I call it my mango miracle because that day has, for so many reasons, made me more spiritual, more connected to nature and more in balance with myself.
I was
**** happy
and doted
to her
my grave
that splinter
her trace
with two
me and
you an
ancient love
of fiesta
now in
Maya this
ram of
fire in
lorry's spin
an ancient time of love
Next page