"espanol" poems
In Spanish, VIVIR means To Live, the proper conjugation of which to when you say something as improper as “I live” would simply be translated to “Yo Vivo”.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live, as “You don’t look Hispanic”
I live, “Woah! You and your brother look nothing alike. You’re so… white.”
I live, “My mom came home once and talked about a man who simply replied with a horribly pronounced “Me gusta” when my mom said she was Hispanic.”
I live, “My dad condones abusive behavior because he thinks Latina aggression is ****
I live, my mom asking me “Would you rather celebrate the Sweet Sixteen or have a quinceanera party?”
I live, as the white boy sitting across the room in Spanish class asking “When will I need this in real life?”
I live, as the “Yes I DO have a friend with a skin complexion similar to mine, and yes, he is Hispanic.”
I live, most of my friends are beautiful people of color.
I live, when will you open up the tab in Google and search some Hispanic History to fill your mind instead of “Latina ****
I live, the messages on the Internet saying “You’re Hispanic? I bet you’re great in bed.”
I live, there are NO gender neutral nouns in Spanish
I live, yes I DO love coffee
I live, no it did NOT stunt my growth
I live, one kiss per cheek at family meet-ups
I live, “Eskimo” nose rubs
I live, "if you’re hispanic, why aren’t your ears pierced?"
I live, being expected to remember Spanish just because it was my first language, but growing up with an American dad made me whiter than fresh bed-sheets sold in America, made in South America, Hecha en Peru.
I live, my mom breaking into tears as she is so proud that I can sing in Spanish
I live, my mom used to be so embarrassed, when I replied “un poco” to her friends asking “Tu Hablas Espanol?”
I live, "if you’re Hispanic, is your mom an Alien?"
I live, "But your dad looks so white!"
I live, being subject to racism hidden in a joke, hidden in a remark about how pale I am, hidden behind a judgmental look, hidden behind a scoff, a laugh, a pity shrug, a fetishized assumption.
I live the bulletproof clothing and horrible crimes I am warned about when I say I wanna go to Colombia I wanna go to my mom’s home.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live.
Yo vivo.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
"You're Mexican?! You don't look Mexican?"
"What's Mexican supposed to look like?"
"Oh, you know... Sombrero, a curly twirly mustache, maybe like holding a taco!"
"I am eating a taco."
"No, like a real taco.
One that is like made in Mexico,
with like Mexican beans,
and Mexican ladies.
You know what I mean."
"No, I don't."
"What's it like? Did you have a quinceanera thingy? Do you speak Spanish?"
"No and no."
"What?! Then you like aren't a real Mexican. All Mexicans can habla Espanol."
"Oh, you know what. I forgot. I know what it is."
"What?"
"I'm not just Mexican, I'm German too."
"That makes like total sense. No wonder you can't speak Spanish. But wait, like were your family Nazis?"
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
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Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Your olive skin and half moon grin
keep me awake tonight.
Two chocolate dots pepper your lips;
I am mesmerized as he sips.
You are smooth as we speak,
smooth as we walk,
I feel soothed on your chest
while in circles we talk.
You let me tousle your curls
knot 'gainst your head,
and I'm satisfied 'cause
I can't help it in bed.
Tell me again
I'm your nightmare, Babe,
because I know all too well
instead you want me to stay.
La boca, espanol, in my ear
are the only two tongues
I wish to hear.
So thank your God
I'll always be here,
always for you,
my Puerto Rican.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
Before I begin, I must tell you in my native tongue that I love you. I adore you with every fiber of my being. I am not telling you this out of promise for future romance; nor out of unyielding compulsion. None of these. No. I can only express these verbal incantations of affection to you due to one sole reason, and this purpose alone. You cannot understand a single word pouring from my silent lips. I watched you from atop of my Spanish villa as you bathed in the rays of Apollo. I tried, oh how desperate were my attempts not to look. Not to bask in the warmth of your beauty for all of eternity, as I wish I could. Doubtful are my beliefs that you will ever know my name. Never will you notice my admiration of you amidst this crowd. I love you only in the privacy of my own heart, although I wish I knew you. Not the 'you' everyone knows through casual conversations and late-night soirees. No. I wish to know the real you. The you of presence. The 'you' you keep concealed in the walls of your sandy skin; shielded by a broken heart no one bothered repairing. I would have reconstructed these shards then, as I would now. You need only ask. Only glance this way.
So, my dear, sweet, whomever, if this sonnet, dedicated to your evanescent frame, were to ever become published, only to be translated into different languages and dispersed among the continents, like so many in the past have; I pray this poem, singing praises to your illustriousness, and yours, alone, finds its way into the palm of your hand. Only then will you know, without knowing, what I have known since that day. You are forever immortal. Forever young.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 5:43 AM UTC
Mi maestra es espectacular.
Aprendio espanol por
mi porque no la iva entender
ni ella ami.Para mi a sido muy dificil
aver aprendido ingles.Y ella es todo lo
contrario.Imaginense si o no es dificil aprender
ingles y saber spanol al mismo
tiempo y lo se porque yo estoy
sufriendo eso.
Miento cual sufrir para mi
es lo mejor que me aiga pasado en mi vida.
Por eso aprecio tanto a mi maestra porque
es la mejor en el mundo.
GRACIAS POR SER LA MEJOR MAESTRA DEL MUNDO. (:
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
I am the last tear my mother shed before my father left.
I am from where the 'no ones' accomplish the most;
where the trees are hidden by tall glistening buildings of the bright city.
I am the beautiful sound of a birds melody being drowned out
by the horns of the yellow taxi's, where manners matter most.
I am from where the people crowd around you at twelve to watch the
beautiful ball drop down against the rusted earth.
I am from when the sun sinks and masters of delicate colors abroad the sky, but
faded before you could take that perfect picture.
I am the new shoe that always got stepped on, the nail polish that got ruined once I went to bed.
Yo soy esa muchacha de pelo rizado que todos pensaban que no sabia espanol.
I am that little bit of hope in my mother's eyes.
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
I can solve problems
Can find the tangent of any angle
I can hablo en espanol
And identify the elements of a compound
But I don't know how to talk
Don't know how to touch
How to laugh, how to feel
Or know how to do anything that matters
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
What makes me want to taste a forbidden fruit
Is it that smile made brighter only by a face so cute
That smile that makes my joy double
Every time I see it I forget every trouble
Anyone else I’d consider just a crush
But your voice alone causes me to blush
My feelings for you are as strong as can be
Yet they grow everyday with no limit to see
I’m enchanted by you for that I’m sure
The only one who could make me dance like Usher
Unknowingly my heart you stole
For you I’d even learn to speak Espanol
One day my patience will have its reward
And my feelings won’t have to be ignored
One day we'll finally have the chance
To begin our forbidden romance
If all good things come to those who wait, then I’ll wait
I’ll long for our names to be joined by fate
I’ll wait for you, beautiful and fine
I’ll wait for the day I can call you mine
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC
Yo quiero,
Llamar a mi madre,
Por que...
You creo que tengo,
LA GRIPE!
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
There's a man in a purple shirt
eating ice cream
at eight in the morning,
a lady in a wheel chair
putting on lipstick
& an elderly couple
sitting
across from me
figuring out their smart phone.
Jim Croce croons
about time in a bottle
as the tapping of shoes
crisscrosses the concourse.
A baby screams
and three workers
converse in Espanol.
The ticket-taker types frantically
on her keyboard
as Mr. Nice guy
is longer,
he's ****** about
his missing reservation.
And me,
silent as can be,
sits here alone
banging away on my own cell,
connected to another world,
oblivious to those around me.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
Uriel and I play basketball
Si, hablo un pequito Espanol
Maybe one day you too to Tokyo ...
gracias, mi amigo
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC
Gigante oso bailarin en el muelle me sopia beso en Valencia
Los turistas se detienes no me emociocan
Pero hay momentos entre congelado en vigor e inteligente
Mi espanol fue apreciado y aplaudido
Sevilla fue impersonante
Granada y Toledo asombras
Luego vinieron disturbios in Barcelona y una vida Francesa quitado
Espana me tienes El Prado y Valencia
Mi corazon siempre esta contigo y con Cervantes
C@rainbowchaser2021
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 2:07 PM UTC
Half moon high
In a deepening sky
The clouds like spider cotton,
Like blue ivory husks betwixt
Umber grey misty fog,
The diablerie of dusk
Dark sky and stars
The streets flooded,
a river of headlights, flashlights,
Sidewalks’ pedestrian traffic,
An Armada of munchkins, crowds
Strolling by Chinatown’s
Crisp neon plazas,
A necropolis bright with
Cartoon sharp signage
Accessorizing restaurants with
Jade And gold, foot spas
And red doors…
Horrors of hangings
Roast ducks and pigs decapitated…
Yet the evening is dressed finely still
All eyes lurking
Shadows floating by
Not to be forgotten tonight
Dias de las Muertos
En espanol…
While down the road
Neighborhood way
Skitters Lilliputian creatures
In shells of Saver’s costumes
As squeals of laughter festoons
Boulevard life with
Tiny tintinnabulations
Like baby rattlers
Against the dark
(Maracas for chupacabras)
Timorous parent folk
Encouragement as company,
They Scurry past
Down dim spatial street
In demand of what is given freely
From each and every door
Treat and sweets
Caries galore
All their tricks cached in grins
Of baby teeth
turn candy corn…
Mischievously the meek milk
All Hallows' Eve For
Hallowed be the glee
Even tho' beneath
The web of grey cloudy sky
Life is precious
To deny
The thirsty as it rains
Misery’s loss deep dismal graves,
We should live in celebration
Childlike everyday
Sing and dance
In the October rain
In this wonder
Like rattlers against the dark
Far from wastes of
Hollow wind and pain,
Chilling cries, bleeding eyes,
Undead the unseen
From this cirque city of sins
Offsprings on the strip
Fearless on the boulevard
Treating & tricking
With ole candied lies…
All done up in bright disguise
Happy Halloween.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 10:29 PM UTC
zorro noun:
el zorro
fox, dog fox
la zorra
fox, ***** ***** ******
my friend lent
his
little perra
to me
for the day
she looks like a
little zorra
i would name her
Zorra
if she were mine....
but would someone
who hablos
Espanol
think she might
be a ******
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 1:27 PM UTC
SPEAKING SPANISH
*I do not speak Spanish,
but (pero) I say-
**** these borders
(chinga las fronteras)
that keep us apart.*
~~~
*I do not speak Spanish
pero (but) I feel the pain,
know the horrors
caused by
****** (E.E.U.U.) imperialismo.*
~~~
*I know a few words of Espanol
and I often sound funny,
y people say I speak
with a Yankee accent
(Si', es verdad)
pero in mi corazon (heart)
yo se (I know)
we, all of us,
(todos los gente)
must change the world,
make a communist revolution
and build a better world.*
~~written 1.29.12
*"NOTE: Revolution Books, in NYC used to have
a Spanish speaking open mic. At one of these events, as I listened
to the different poets read their poems, I wrote this and was
asked to read it. The translation is mine.*
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
I Broke English
I’m trying to get better at it,
I swear I am.
I’m trying to reach my full potential,
But right now I have a fool’s potential.
It’s the only abstract thing you can break
Besides love.
And that is—
English.
My parents have broken English.
But did they have to pay for it?
Is English a vase with a price tag?
I thought that was called China for a reason?
Was English a mishandled shipment
With the label “fragile” on it?
Is English a person whose feelings have been hurt?
I thought that’s why there are therapists for him or her?
Anyways, my mom once asked me,
“How come read and read look the same?
But read and red sound the same?”
And my dad asked,
“Why is it pronounced lie-in,
Instead of lie-on?”
I always hear the saying, “I put the emphasis on the wrong syllable,”
But really, who here determines such things?
I always hear the question “Can I use the bathroom?”
Only to be hit back with “I don’t know, can you?”
Well, guess what.
May I tell you a secret?
I don’t really care, I just need to use it.
Heck, we need math to solve English.
Do we derive the root from the word?
And finally get an origin?
This plays an integral part
In our English.
People use it around the world!
Instead of hearing Bonjour! Or Hola!
We get
Hey! Hello! What’s up!
Because French isn’t universal
We don’t get to hear
“Je ne parle pas en francais”
And same for Spanish
We don’t hear
“Yo no hablo espanol”
But instead, we hear around the world
“I don’t speak very good English”
I speak
Broken
English.
Much like my broken brain
I can’t piece it together
How this dang jigsaw puzzle
Works altogether.
It’s difficult to speak in these words
Without tripping up.
Trust me it was hard to memorize,
I swear, I was all caught up
In the moment of knowing these letters.
But I didn’t take into account
The meaning of grammar—
It’s a nail that’s hard to hammer
The meaning of pronunciation—
I don’t know, can you hear my enunciation
The meaning of punctuation—
Maybe I can put an exclamation?
Or make it a question!
I finally figured out what English is.
It’s a law that I’ve broken several times
But can get away with it
Because I was born with the proper accent and the language.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC