we came up same building,
same busted elevator, same rumors in the walls —
three girls stacked on top of each other
like secrets whispered through radiator pipes.
6S - she’s half rican, half black,
but don’t call her half - she all attitude,
dark skin glowing when she laughs too loud,
hips slick like she dancing with nobody’s permission.
5E - 5’1 and built like a threat,
she got a stare that’ll stop you mid-lie.
she hate surprises, so we never sneak up -
she come knocking first if you do her wrong.
then me - 7N, freckles spread like stars on light skin,
red-brown hair tied up, book in my lap,
content to stay inside while they chase block heat.
they pull me out anyway - stoop nights, corner gossip,
big dreams that don’t always fit our pockets.
we so different it make no sense -
three girls shaped like soft rebellion,
like hard lessons, like love
that never needed no permission slip.
puberty tried to twist us up,
boys tried to break us open,
life threw her worst
and we just leaned closer -
me, yaphia, tarita - same building girls,
same busted elevator,
still going up.
I don't know how,
To speak Spanish,
But I love the music,
I hope that one day,
I'll learn the language,
And sing my heart out.
sun-dried, saltwater-rusted
bench sits above cherry bricks
undulating like pan-fried
bacon strips, by the streetlamp
where lazy dogs whine at once
and also lose their bladders
and imagine chuletas
in the beaconed street's limelight
“Mom, they called my name I won.”
“Mijo, estoy tan orgullosa de ti, qué bendición.”
Her voice lifts when I tell her.
Like music in a language they don’t teach in school.
At the store, at school, at the doctor’s front desk
I become her mouth. I become her ears.
They ask her questions she can't answer.
I step in, twelve years old, speaking like a grown-up.
They see her silence,
but her voice resonates
a melody in a language unspoken.
Sometimes I wish they could hear
the wisdom she holds
in every word.
Well, this is my life.
And I’m happy.
But it’s a struggle too
being the voice for someone
who gave up hers for you.
But now
she orders at restaurants,
chats with my teachers,
says “thank you” without looking down.
She found her voice.
And I helped her build it.
Now we speak
side by side.
Robarme el destino
Los weyes son kimo
Porque me la Pelan
Nada es sencillo
todo Viene junto
Vengo de abajo ,
Estoy en la orilla,
Dale dela misma
Me bajo en el monte,
y salgo elegante,
con cinto serpente
mirada cortante.
No conozco suerte,
ni ruego favores,
Ya nadien apolla
Crecí entre los tiros,
engaños y gente,
hablan de guerra,
yo soy de frente
Bella,
me enamoré con ella,
reflejo de estrella
brillando en su mirada tan bella.
Como las nubes,
el día no se me lleva
cuando estoy con ella,
mi mente se queda.
Si llueve, yo soy su paraguas,
la cuido del mundo,
del drama y las malas.
Ese es el diseño,
es fuego conmigo en la cama.
Dice que me ama,
dice que me ame,
y cuando lo dice,
el alma me arde.
Ponle atención a la movida
El billete rinde todo el día
Sangre, sudor, lágrima
La venganza siempre vale más
Bendiciones para mis amigos
La familia siempre está conmigo
R15 enfocado cuando voy fumando
Presidente
Suficiente, unos van y vienen
The beast Alhambra
roared a violent psalm
Vile conversos
horrid moriscos,
the heretic herds
A spear thrust into
our sun’s martyred ribs
Held in hateful grips
the yellow warblers
dripped in crimson sheen
Flying like Michael
the vengeful vassal
of Aragon’s decree
“O Torquemada
Hark the righteous call
King of Suprema
Execute them all!”
Cold unfeeling wretch,
the flesh guillotine
Teeth clicking sparks
lit endless pyres
Three made Seville
weep at the sight of Friars
strands of silver green
Spanish moss draping from trees
swaying in the breeze
Dibujo estrellas
En mi piel como en el papel.
Para el alma vieja y dulce,
Eso no fue más allá del verano de quinto grado.
Para el falso hijo de gran espíritu,
Eso me destruyó para su propio disfrute,
Cuando ellos eran realmente los que estaban siendo
Destruido detrás de las puertas.
No dibujo un círculo ni un cuadrado
Dibujo estrellas.
Oceanic moonlight, glows on her soft hands.
Her heavenly torso so at rest on cool sands.
Penning romantic poetry to touch you in any land!
2/19/2025
Title: Translation in Enblish
“The Girl from Ipanenma”
In the tidy marina,
the tide is going out.
My last image of her
tugs at its mooring.
I pause on a slope
of the Alpujarras.
The wide sky can't
encompass my loss.
A hooded crow calls
two hours before fajr.
The engraver has come,
desperate for epitaphs.
First published in NOON: Journal of the Short Poem
Tania
There was a young lady named Tania
Who wanted to dance in Espania
She really let go
Doing the flamenco
And her whirling, it nicely did fan yer
The Bull and the Matador
Stalwartly, the bull gaits around
the confines of the arena ring;
snorting and displaying
piercing horns and muscle-bulk build.
For this he was bred and raised;
to be a champion of beasts,
and no matter where placed,
will claim as his domain and ferociously
defend until death, if necessary.
Then into the ring swaggeringly treads the matador
(flamboyantly dressed, touting a cape)
saluting the crowd, though calmly noticing
the bull, whose eyes appear red
from the blood gorging in its head.
“Estás loco!” scream the patrons packing the place.
(Thoroughly, enjoying every minute of this barbaric sport.)
“Ole! Ole!” They sing in unison in horrific overture,
encouraging the matador to kill the bull or vice versa.
***
"beggar"
I don't want
to make sense
of dollars out of
cents or pesos from
centavos but send those
me my uno dos tres
sent
i do
Specific Types of Spanish Poems
Definition | What is Spanish in Poetry?
Poems Related to Spanish
insular, catalan, continental, french, indo european language, italian, italic language, latin, portuguese, provencal,