Jan 25

poemita

poemita

Te doy una rosa
Me das una sonrisa
Nos da una vida



 


Little poem

I give you a rose
You give me a smile
It gives us a life
Jan 01

Listen

I am not a fan of adding my own notes before a piece of writing but I am a less of a fan of plagiarism. Thus, I must give credit where credit is due. The italicized words in the middle-ish stanza are taken from lindseycarbee's poem "The Story of Us". You can read it here or click on the "source of sprout" at the bottom.
 

Dec 31

This is a SPROUT

So this is a SPROUT!

YES this is spot on!
Wow, this is so perfectly worded
I love that the sprouts are so BIG and that there is a gardener.
The gardener is smaller, shorter than the SPROUTS
It makes me think how we are all gardeners, in a sense,
gardeners tending to this BIG garden of words and stories

The gardener is smaller, shorter than the SPROUTS
we are all gardeners
and we are smaller, shorter, than the WRITING we share,
the community we are,
the humanity, ENTHUSIASM, connectedness that we maintain
and the precious words, thoughts, images, languages we spread.
Dec 30

SkyLoveClouds

Dec 29

Her "White" Dress— Part 1

PART ONE

          She tiptoed but to no avail, the stairs still creaked-- old boards groaning and spilling ancient secrets as she descended. The young woman approached the second to last landing. Suddenly, she gasped. There in front of her was a wedding dress she had never noticed before. Pearl white, creamy beige, a stunning soft tone of milky pale, not too brown, nor overly yellow, and least of all not in the slightest was it abhorrently bright-- like artificial chemical-packed printer paper. Not in any way was the color wrong. The dress was of the only shade of white she could imagine wearing on her wedding day. So then and there she pushed open the large glass door, minding the chinkity-clankity-clonk of aluminum cowbells or jingle bells or flimsy and loud metal chimes of some sort or another that sounded against the door as she pushed it open.
Dec 16

Dear Mina, In response to that letter from rex

Dear Mina,
December 16th, 2016

It is one of those things that I must bottle up, somewhat, and place at the bottom of a box to be revisited later.
 
I refold the two pages of 8 1/2 by 11 printer paper relaying the words my cousin chose to type to me.
 
I place the quartered paper inside the--albeit thoughtfully chosen-- Hallmark grocery store (belated) birthday message. “Here’s 2 You!”
 
I close the bright yellow card, quickly tucking it back into the swimming-pool blue envelope.
 
Just the minute gesture of returning those words to their enclosure is a good feeling. A right feeling. Most of all, a safe feeling. Accompanied by a sigh.
 
Nov 30

An Ode to December

11/30/16

I stepped outside
Into a summer night
Albeit November thirtieth 

A breeze so warm and animated
Surrounded by its sounds-- soft, conversational, fluid
A symphony of breaths of hope and a sigh all at once
Then soft, 
Chill. a tingle of excitement, anticipation,
Gusts blow through branches, excited voices in shaking leaves
Rising and falling
Akin to waves, the ocean, water. 
The earth finds different ways to sigh,
And sing.

My barn boots, not my bare feet touch the porch.
My parka, not my skin feels the wind
My jeans, not my bare legs enkindle with goosebumps against chilled droplet tears
I stand, not sit.
Permitting this summer night to trick me one last time
I must remember,
Tomorrow is December

But I know my breeze is real.
I know it is a summer breeze I feel,
not a winter one
nor one of fall, nor spring
Nov 13

And so I write


There is so little time in my day.
I don't even think about anything but school
what is due,
when it's due,
the next task I must complete,
and by when.

Only
when the time, the silence are scheduled into my day
do I stop. Pause.
Breathe.
Think.
Reflect.
Observe.
Relax.

A blank page and a pen in my hand.
I have got all I need
to tell the world whatever I want
to lay my observations out,
to process my universe,
to reflect on the smaller things in life.

but there is a tornado brewing
and if I am not careful,
I will turn into the eye, and
wreak havoc to all that
surrounds me.

And so I write
of the things that I know:
of the work, and
Nov 13

Merienda (snack)

Merienda (snack)
Sat. Sept. 17, 2016
Sun. Sept. 18, 2016
Quiero una merienda
por favor, a la tienda
Son las nueve
y esta chica no puede
dormir, decir, sentir, coexistir,
trabajar, pensar, parar, continuar,
solamente ella puede necesitar.

No me importa lo que como
solamente necesito
manzanas, bananas, nueces,
fresas, frutas, dulces, papas fritas,
tomates, aguacates,
carne, queso, leche, pan tostado, 
cereal, bayas, sopa, ropa,
ya no sé si
¿soy persona?
¿cabra?
¿loca?
la única cosa que yo sé:
Quiero una merienda,
no. Mentí
--¡la necesito!

Revised/revisited Sun. Nov. 13, 2016

Merienda (snack)

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