Poetry

Grace

NaPoWriMo Day 20: Write a poem in the voice of a member of your family.


It is my 50th birthday today. On the dining table, a cake with a cheery “Happy birthday!” written in blue frosting and with three candles on top. I closed my eyes, made wish, and blew each one. My husband asks what I wished for. I gently placed hand on top of his, my dark complexion a stark contrast. I look at our two children, the same blood running through their veins and yet, they inherited my skin and my eyes. My mother’s words ring true: Our family blood is strong.

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Moonshine (n)
— liquor
— foolish thought or talk; nonsense

Moonshine

Poetry

Moonshine

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Poetry

How To Write Poetry

You don’t know how many times
I’ve scrapped these first few lines
because all I’m writing are clichés.
I’m trying to hard to rhyme
or looking for enough time
or trying to sound sublime.
I struggle to find the right metaphors
to make sense of the puzzle pieces
just to end up with blistered fingers
from the jagged fragments.
Sometimes I think
too much with my head
too little with my heart
because that’s when the words
flow more graciously.

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Poetry

Reach for Infinity

Dedicated to my dear friend, Pauline Sahagun. Belated 18th!

When we were young
we learned how to count:
one, two, three…
counting until we run out of fingers
and we continue with our toes.
We continue with the books we read
the crayons we colored with
the forts we built
with the scraped knees
and the grazed elbows
and with the shooting stars
that continue to kiss the night sky.
Soon we started counting the seconds
the full moons
the cups of coffee
the heartbreaks
and the hours spent poring over textbooks
instead of fairytales.
Hours turned to days
turned to months
turned to years
instead of counting the days left
count the minutes you’ve spent breathing
count the laughter instead of tears
count the blessings instead of failures
count the friends instead of enemies
count the stars,
as impossible as it may be.

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Poetry

Mr. Sandman

In the middle of the night
tossing and turning
not a wink turned to sleep
even when I tried counting sheep.
“Where is he?” I cried.
“Oh dear Mr. Sandman,
please creep into my bed tonight.”
Sprinkle those sand
make my lids grow heavy
turn these words into Zzzz’s
turn the darkness into dreams
let me escape this reality.

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