"latina" 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
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
But it won’t reveal my inner mystery
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
My Latina nature sometimes precedes my personality
People try to tell me who I am and they whisper, “I bet she…”
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
He says, “I know about you Latin girls…” but the only one who can enlighten me about me, is me.
To them I’m nothing more than another Jenny from the Block, but I’m not here to entertain you, let me educate you
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
My curls exude confidence, beauty, and *** appeal; they keep secrets, create dreams, and remind me how bright I expect my future to be
My hair does define me. But not as you define it, as I do. I am everything I believe my hair means
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
Latinas are fierce, they are fire, and they are dangerous. Maybe we’re that way because you won’t let us be.
Can I just be me? Why do I have to be the person you want me to be?
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
I’m tired of society’s shackles, so I ignore what society expects me to be
I love my curls, I love them when they’re frizzy, unkempt, and unruly. My curls are me.
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
~Karina
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Four blocks down,
A man who never gives the same name
Stands every day selling condoms
With Tiger’s face telling us to “Protect Our Wood”,
And next to him is the vendor where
I just bought my new favorite scarf.
His name is Lorenzo. He’s 6 foot 4,
Old school Italian, and after two months
I’ve yet to see him wear the same shoes twice.
Natalie played softball in high school.
She now owns a hot dog stand just outside
That I’ve seen fifty people wait in line for.
After a heartfelt conversation we had
On a certain rainy Thursday morning,
Natalie now throws me a free Polish sausage with peppers
Once in a while when I open my second story window.
She hasn’t missed once.
My one neighbor is a Latina grandmother named Sofia.
She brought her kids here illegally,
And they’ve since used their success
To cut all ties to dear old Mexico
And to her.
I eat with her once a week,
And we share cooking recipes
And small tales about life BNY
(Before New York).
There’s a homeless man downtown
Whose sign says “A quarter a day
Keeps my teeth off your leg”,
And ever since he’s proven it to me
I’ve dropped fifty cents a day,
Hoping for extra protection.
When my friends from college come to visit,
They were all curious about Lorenzo’s shoes
And Natalie’s pitching arm
And when Sofia’s daughter would show up
(Tyler had a thing for hispanic girls).
I never tried to explain, because
I never felt the need to know the answer myself.
All I cared about were Natalie’s smile,
Sofia’s homemade tortilla chips,
And how a guy like Lorenzo ended up in New York City selling scarves.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
I love being Chicana because it gives me a sense of belonging.
I hate being Chicana because I am not a true Latina, nor am I a true American.
I love being Chicana because of the authentic food my family brings to the table.
I hate being Chicana because people assume that all I eat are burritos.
I love being Chicana because I was born with the ability to move my hips and dance in a way most white girls can’t.
I hate being Chicana because I look white and not Mexican.
I love being Chicana because it gives me a reason to embrace a beautiful language.
I hate being Chicana because people automatically think I can speak English and Spanish perfectly.
I love being Chicana because I have the most caring family.
I hate being Chicana because I was raised in a lower-middle class household.
I love being Chicana because I was raised to learn and appreciate the value of everything.
I hate being Chicana because I am expected to bear children and marry a hard-working man.
I love being Chicana because it sets me apart.
I hate being Chicana because I am expected to know American history as well as Mexican history.
I love being Chicana because I was born in a free country.
I hate being Chicana because I feel out of place when I travel to Mexico.
I love being Chicana because I have created goals for myself that no one ever expects me to me reach simply because I am Chicana.
I hate being Chicana because people don’t believe in me or my abilities.
I love being Chicana because I have the strength and willpower to prove them wrong.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Wussup, professional Latina?
Diversity been good 2 U?
Water warm enough 4 U?
Shaking down enuf rich gringos
to fund your Non-Profit?
(*speak against capitalismo here*)
Got time for la Revolución after your pedicure today?
(mention the border here)
still watching Oprah, Abuela?
heard from your third ex-husband recently?
Wussup consummate professional.
(*turn on NPR here*)
Got nail polish? Got car waxed? Got investments?
(take a networking business lunch here)
Have you streaked your hair enuf?
(mention indigenismo here)
I hope you are caring well for all the nietos
and still have time to be a tiburona
(insert italicized Spanish word here)
How are all your gente ?
(*mention mujeres fuertes here*)
Hey Latina - when did you move out of the barrio ?
(*mention La Raza here*)
Mujer Latina—wussup.
how is Gringolandia workin' out 4 U ?
(turn off Univision here)
'cause if the oppression gets too bad
you could always move back
to Venezuela
or Chihuahua
or San Juan, or...
(*mention Trump here*)
...Miami?
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:01 PM UTC
Mi cuate
Mi socio
Mi
hermano
Aparcero
Camarado
Compañero
Mi pata
M´hijito
Paisano...
He aquí mis vecinos.
He aquí mis hermanos.
Las mismas caras latinoamericanas
de cualquier punto de America Latina:
Indoblanquinegros
Blanquinegrindios
Y negrindoblancos
Rubias bembonas
Indios barbudos
Y negros lacios
Todos se quejan:
-¡Ah, si en mi país
no hubiese tanta política...!
-¡Ah, si en mi país
no hubiera gente paleolítica...!
-¡Ah, si en mi país
no hubiese militarismo,
ni oligarquía
ni chauvinismo
ni burocracia
ni hipocresía
ni clerecía
ni antropofagia...
-¡Ah, si en mi país...
Alguien pregunta de dónde soy
(Yo no respondo lo siguiente):
Nací cerca del Cuzco
admiro a Puebla
me inspira el ron de las Antillas
canto con voz argentina
creo en Santa Rosa de Lima
y en los orishás de Bahía.
Yo no coloreé mi Continente
ni pinté verde a Brasil
amarillo Perú
roja Bolivia.
Yo no tracé líneas territoriales
separando al hermano del hermano.
Poso la frente sobre Río Grande
me afirmo pétreo sobre el Cabo de Hornos
hundo mi brazo izquierdo en el Pacífico
y sumerjo mi diestra en el Atlántico.
Por las costas de oriente y occidente
doscientas millas entro a cada Océano
sumerjo mano y mano
y así me aferro a nuestro Continente
en un abrazo Latinoamericano.
7.2k
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.
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:13 AM UTC
I was is in second grade when Emily told me "if you where born a few years back you'd be a slave"
As if I hadn't looked in the mirror latley.
Oh how it felt to be the only brown girl in a white school
Minority
Misinterpretation.
A maybe
Is what I was
An outcast
4th grade
I visit my father and his family
My grandmother and aunt whisper,"Gringa" laugh laugh "Sangrona" laugh laugh
My mother hispanic and my father Mexican
6th grade
My best friend is disgusted because I define as Mexican yet can't seem to speak perfect Spanish
9th grade
I learned that bi racially I am a mut,
As if I don't have enough labels already
I must prove to my friends I am white, yet hispanic to my family
My second aunts snicker at my broken Spanish
No need to gain their validity
They can't believe my mother raised me away from their culture
Despair fills their eyes as labels blur mine
Must I prove myself every time?
What if I'm not either or?
Nor a mix
Nor white
Nor hispanic
Nor mexican
Nor latina
Nor bi racial
Nor sangrona
I don't seek your validation but your understanding
I'm not a unique exhibit
Only a 16 year old girl dealing with teenage drama and high school studies
A dreamer at heart
An artist who loves to show it
I have a name
I'm more than my skin color
Or that of my mother's & father's.
If I'm ever asked to prove myself
I will answer with only
"I am already proven
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
good morning little daughter
good morning mother earth.
Good morning city water.
I will swig your hissing turf.
Good morning shade of grey
start the page
a better way.
Good morning
morning.
And a good morning from my ballerina.
A sweet morning for a grown
and young latina.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
Awkward tastes like that glass of red wine you offered,
My name falling out of your mouth like a word you'd forgotten;
Awkward feels like your arms around me
and me trying to remember if you used to rub my back in a hug;
Awkward looks like not making any eye contact
but instead taking turns watching eachother;
The room was full of your family and latina music,
I hadn't been that happy since September
And all the while I could feel my heart choking
On the silence between you and I
And that big lump of "What now?"
That currently defines us.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
That's why I came
Look at her!
A beautiful Latina goddess
Such full voluptuous *******
My goodness
Long black hair
She would not like me
I understand
I am not very manly
I am not good looking
I have an akward body
Better to be alone
To never be in love
She put her sweater on
Such a **** goddess she is
But I'll never talk to her
Or know her
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
Seven sit around a fire,
burnt marshmallows on two foot sticks
stuck between grahams,
talk *** and film.
Had her naked like Kate Winslet,
not Titanic Kate,
but Little Children Kate.
**** on the washing machine
behind Jennifer Connelly's back.
But the part about Madame Bovary,
who really needs feminist literature in a feminist film?
Okay, maybe it's classic romantic...
I felt lost like a pebble
sinking in the ocean
five miles deep
in the Puerto Rican trench.
I hadn't seen either movie
nor was I well versed
in feminism or romance.
My mind drifted to my first time.
Started with a french kiss
from a Latina girl,
at a house on Cleveland Ave,
I wish I could remember more.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
The white man leaves his house
Some white women leave theirs
The rest wear spandex and push stroller
The Latino man comes
To build houses to paint houses
The Asian man comes
To build houses to paint houses
The Latina women comes
To take care of the kids
Some Asian men and women
Work in the laundry mat
The rest of the businesses
Owned by white people
The white man comes back
Some white women come back
And everyone else leaves
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
I'm facing the horizon, reclining in the cool grass, staring deeply into the pink and purple sky.
It is an exemplary evening and I am enticed by its extravagance. I contemplate existence.
I contemplate all our lives:
The gnat licking sweat of my brow,
You,
Me,
That tree across the street,
Your dead friends, my ancestors, that hot Latina chick that works at Panara (not that I really eat at Panara).
The undercover cop that won't stop eyeing me.
I watch the pink fade into purple fade into nothing at all. The clouds disperse, becoming nothing more than disconnected particles of dirt and water suspended in midair, and the sun goes down.
I **** the gnat and go home.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
he
him, miralo
he has nothing special
he gets lost among crowds
she
her, mirala
she swears we're beyond racism
sexism, citizenism, heterosexism
classism,
and many other isms
they have something in common...
they think they're free
which is very different to
they think (therefore) they're free
because indoctrination has infected their thoughts
they call themselves patriots as they proudly wear the american flag
on small pins
they even have a yellow "support our troops" sticker on their bumper
i'm telling you
she thinks she's free:
mrs. successful latina
"embraced" by america's corporate world
she "broke through" the glass ceiling
(then sealed it again)
no... other latinas would be too much of a competition
they need to have their own merits
have it as hard as she had it
she feels good about being tokenized
she's glad that "America" gave her such opportunities
"Why her?" out of so many others
she's so lucky
so why bother
**** the rest
as long as "she's free"
He thinks he's free:
"What's with this feminist ******** he says
he raises his fist
but not in an empowering way
instead
he threatens to land it on a woman's face
"that's what she gets
for trying to be a man"
They think they're free
"we're over homophobia
they're just isolated cases of intolerance..."
"i mean as long as you go about your business
and don't bother no body
i mean
don't preach it to everyone
don't show it
don't say it
you're free to be who you are
but just hide it...
why do you want to get married?
it doesn't make sense
i mean it might only be a phase..."
we think we're free
"we do the jobs no body else wants
this is not our country you know,
we need to follow the rules,
be good citizens,
don't ask for too much,
make sure we don't make them uncomfortable,
keep the status quo,
stop...they're starring...
we should wait...
let them set the rules"
today:
they think they're free
but one day
they'll think
and therefore
they will be truly free...
xtp
los angeles, march 3 2008
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
A lovely Latina caught Don Sterling’s eye
And, for sure, there’s no fool like an old one.
It helped he has Billions, You know I don’t lie-
because you must give sums to get some.
His wife got upset, (you know how they get)
As she saw their cash flow out the door.
“Two cars and a condo! I’ll make him regret
the day he encountered that *****
The wife sued the mistress for her “ill gotten” gains,
half of it hers by the law.
Then they caught Don, on tape,
Spewing sound bites of hate-
Now he can’t run his team anymore.
A little blue pill can do old men ill-
It deceives them to think they’re a Stallion.
The next time you reach for an eighteen year old, Don,
I suggest that you pour a MacCallan.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
well, I'm a foreign dialect,
and musically uninclined, I'm the exoticism
fetishized by old white men who want a Greek-Italian-
Latina-Persian harem.
I am the the voice that doesn't match the body,
the long-limbed and quiet. My insides are not my
outsides, my tenderness with them won't
be afforded to you, not just yet. And I lick
the wrapper on every dark chocolate bar,
my O-mouth on every milkshake straw,
knowing I am being watched
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
Candle Magick
A Poem by Corset
My Latina Coworker
sat across from my desk;
heartbroken that her lover
wanted to try again with his wife;
pulled out a brown paper sack
and asked me if I believed
in hummingbird candle magick,
and then proceeded to tell me
how to cast a love spell.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I told her I believed
in the power
of mind to shape her
universe.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Two days later she's snap
chatting her married lover
again, has been unblocked
and has now switched
to candles of **********
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My dog has diarrhea
and is blowing holes
through the walls of her
crate,
I must have lit the
wrong kind or color
of candles.
© 2015 Corset
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
Ah!
She's latina thigh
Ice cream
With shining blank
Teeth, skin, and soul
She gazes fiercely
Though terrified
At this sluggish life
Her quiet cotton voice
Stabs me in the chest
Baby, take my blood
Take my eyes
And whatever morsel of soul
You can **** from my body
I'm on fire
Forever burning lust
Like gasoline
For you
I clench my fists
And want to scream
You are inspiring
Honey, you look
So good
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
I,
Am a teenaged girl
Lost between the deminsions of
Fantasy
And
Reality.
I am a Filipino and Mexican
Knowing no spanish
Lost in a language my mother has forgotten.
I am what it means to be a human being.
Trying my best to be there
Making zillions of mistakes that end up drowning me in the end.
Wanting to remember but always forgetting
Wanting to help but saying the wrong things at the wrong time.
Trying to find a place in the world
Only to end up being isolated like a lone wolf.
I am what it means to be a student,
Not loving the whole school system but trying her best to prove it wrong.
Educated by watching the world, day by day,
Philosophizing life
Analyzing the story lines that mean something
Surviving in a jungle we call High School
And day by day,
Struggling in classes just to pass it.
I am, what it means to be
not so smart, not stupid at all but
a hard worker, learning everything I can with the little time the school system provides.
So,
Who am I?
Well for starters,
To tell you who I am,
I'd have to spend the majoirty of my life writing a one hundred paged book,
With only one page that has one sentence of writing that says,
"Too much to say, ask me another day."
Who I am,
Is a teenaged-Filipina-Latina-video gaming-anime loving-poetry/story writing-girl
Who is always lost in her own world~
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 4:18 AM UTC
They have
cute Latina noses,
bewitching eyes,
lush lips,
with a look of coy amusement,
nice dark hair,
and nifty builds.
They both seem
very lady-like for their age
and modest too
about their engaging *** appeal.
I loved to go out -
We'd have fun, what with their infectious
spontaneity
and their nice female Latina sophistication
as well as my interests
in all kinds of women
and their accompanying
good points
(and watch me ignore any flaws
that might pop up).
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
Beams directing traffic on Belmont
Paintings of St.Mary in each house
A blessing is in the home of Sanchez
Yelling at the top of my lungs, Alexandria!
Her lips the color of a summer rose
She might meet my girlfriend
Tired of the flat girlfriend
I ride the 70 down Belmont
In a garden I pluck a rose
And wait outside her house
Oh how I love the name Alexandria
The finest gem from Mrs. Sanchez
I love the sound of an Sanchez
It brings shame to my girlfriend
That fiery accent calls me to Alexandria
No matter the distance between me and Belmont
She can look in front of her house
Im on her sidewalk, holding a rose
I will always hand her roses
Predjuice eyes from a concern Sanchez
Oh if they ever found me in that house
So she walks to my girlfriend's
Away from the curious eyes on Belmont
They've ask where is my Alexandria?
Don't worry my Alexandria
Soft like the pedal of a rose
Let me kiss you outside of Belmont
Where nobody is named Sanchez
Show you where I lay next to my girlfriend
We can make love all over this house
Just get comfortable in this house
Spray that majestic spirit, Alexandria
Maybe I pass this flavor to my girlfriend
If willing, she can even get a rose
Call it the night she tasted a Sanchez
What we can share with the Latina on Belmont,
A girlfriend is snow on a dying rose
Warm in a house with a gem called Alexandria
Kissing the skin of an Sanchez, on Belmont
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
i appear with boots and a saucy smile on
in the doorway while she's cooking the women
gossip over the sizzling pan of hot butter
under her heaving chest on the stove
i'm wearing a magic cape mimicking a windmill
with my bright pink ***** standing *****
big as a barn in the morning sun
lusting after dominance
fat and wrapped like a chorizo sausage
she sends a half-wave into my
direction of space and says--on the counter
i'm ******* an older latina lady with a chiquita banana
deep in my mother's kitchen with
the sticker on the tip of my **** for reference
as the sun dances and rises just
before pancake breakfast
her dank breath smells like
pollo broth and fiesta cigarettes
but her **** is wild soft and new
like a banana being peeled and sliced lengthwise
warm ***** hanging on either side
fat enough to be chewed on
psychedelic salsa blares
on the radio all morning
and i'm holding her skirt up to
reveal beautiful hips and thigh muscles so
i can **** her harder and faster
at her request
hands fly and the big bowl of
seeds spray downward in gravitational collapse
she's singing mexican gypsy secrets
with a cigarette lit and just hanging lopsided
off her lipsticked marshmallow lips
she's holding a yellow crayon in one hand
like she'll be scribbling notes shorthand
and dribbling cane syrup over my naked body
with the other as the floor begins shaking and
the walls shed plaster the cupboard doors creak
on their hinges and mom walks in the room looking at me
like i'm the crazy one
but the cataclysmic miracle is done
senorita is kneeling and wiping my ****
with an authentic mexican flag handkerchief
her sweat and my *** cooling on her thighs
working holes in her new blue kneesocks
and i'm re-zipping her dress over the
glistening expanse of her brown back
she stands trying to fix her freshly ****** hair and
we both light a cigarette try to forget the whole thing happened laughing at our secret as her cherry toes finally uncurl like an ember drifting in campfire smoke she just juts a hip out licks her lips again and smiles
"bueno."
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC