ABLA Latina Poets Cafe

Tenacious Angel by Micaela Valdez

2007-11-05T10:42:00.000-08:00

by Micaela Valdez

Tenacious Angel

You can call me
Native, Mestiza, Xicanahip-hop feminist.
You can call meheart-in-the-hood suburban refugee yet ghetto fabulous.
You can call me Macha Femme somewhere between raw gansta and kind apprentice.

You can call me artist slash writer slash freedom fighter.
You can call me maestra, consejera bruja, amante.
You can call me daughter of Oshun and Coyolxauhqui.
You can call me unbreakable, tenacious Angel.

2006 copyright Micaela ValdezMacha Femme Press
Tenacious Angel is an excerpt of Mica's"Amor y Salud" her second chapbook.It retails for $8 and is available for purchase at www.myspace.com/machafemme or
email: machanoticias-owner@yahoogroups.com.

Abuelita by Guia Quijano

2007-05-03T12:02:00.001-07:00

Poem Abuelita by Guia Quijano

A poem about my great grandmother Lola - Guia Quijano

Lola/Marisol

Abuelita,abuelita
release me just a little
let me fly, to the sky
I'm shaking
no breath

Ay, abuelita
I ask for protection, si
release me just a little
let me feel the pain

You, your hermanas
taking my hands and feet
Dipping my eyes into honey
so I am sweet when "I see"

Abuelita, abuelita
hold my heart in your hands
hands to wipe tears
hands to open doors

Hands of the Virgen
My feet growing and crawling
through my brown earth
So I can see.

Abuelita, Abuelita
the wind carries you to me.
Dreams, are they truth?
Dreams, can they be?

With every step I take I am closer
to my light
With every step I take I am closer
to you.
With every step, I can see.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 2007, Guia Quijano

Abuelita by Guia

2007-05-03T12:02:00.000-07:00

Gabcast! ABLA Poetry #3

As Love Falls by Marta L. Sanchez

2007-03-26T14:22:00.000-07:00

Gabcast! As Love Falls by Marta L. Sanchez

As Love Falls

What does love look like,
As it falls like rain drops?
Is it fat, thick warm like ocean?
Cleansing, refreshing...

Is it continuous like a circle?
Does it nurture growth, change and beauty?
Does love have teeth or thorns?

Are Change and Love siblings?
Do they argue constantly,
and learn to live with each other anyway?

Are Trust and The Moment their parents?
Can love be born without faith?
without presence?
If I'm not fully grounded
how is it I find love strongly rooted here anyway?

Copyright , Marta L. Sanchez 2007

My Fragile Heart by Maria Flores

2007-03-01T10:37:00.000-08:00

My Fragile Heart
by Maria Flores

My fragile heart
So badly frayed
I offer you this day
It's been abused
Ripped to shreds
And callously betrayed
But you have made
This fragile heart
Desire to love again
And only you
Can give it hope
Or let it die a painful death
December 22, 2006 copyright@poetry.com

Poemas by Lynda Jiménez

2005-09-10T09:10:00.000-07:00

Y qué es lo que revives?
son los ojos...? la mirada
es al margen de un instante
que se busca un encuentro,
empujando la oportunidad
se esconde a la realidad
debajo del quizás

al seducir la nostalgia
la imaginación se hace dueña
recitando el verbo poder
te atascaste en el pudiera
y fue entonces cuando la mentira
le hizo el amor a la verdad

en la costa del recuerdo
le cuentas a la marea
que una vez hubo luna
y convertidas en la misma persona
bailan la mentira y tu,
cuando nadie se entera,
cuando la vida es tuya
extrañas lo que era

tanto que quieres que sea
tanto escapar a lo que es

_________________________________

Pareciera una pausa adrede
repitiéndose la misma escena
sin acabar de llegar el final
siempre allí, nunca desde lejos
lo mismo demasiado tiempo
la piel me cambia
los ojos se me secan
y todo es tan absurdamente parecido

ofusco a la paciencia cuando fastidio la calma
valiente intento de burlar la soledad
círculo de humo que me adormece
en el laberinto que voy adornando

cansancio y mucho peso
lastre de cínica desidia
se hace cada vez más espeso,
legado único de tu herencia
enterrándome en este viejo sabor
que disimula la ebriedad de un olor

para ti el día se hizo sin puertas
pero mi desgarbada concepción de vida
se encerró en esta insoluta cárcel
que sólo levanta párpados
sin llegar abrir los ojos

_________________________________

Nadamos juntos
sin caudal escrito
a ramalazos
quemamos la vida
ahogándola en sueños

Inundamos el tiempo
sólo sintiendo
corrimos demasiado rápido
y ya no hubo camino

Arena vieja y sabia
conocía de sobra el final,
con calma nos esperó
hasta que vio consumirse
la última gota del quizás

copyright 2005, Lynda Jiménez

"Caballero" by Ericka Yanina

2005-08-24T13:23:00.000-07:00

Caballero

majestad exigente
con cabellos de oro,
recorriste mis montanas y praderas
el campo abierto de mi abdomen
el largo camino de mis piernas
la ancha area de mi espalda

mi mas preciado territorio

enterraste tu bandera
como conquistador de nuevas tierras
dejando tu huella bien grabada

Adios, nunca te podre decir
creador, dueno de esta tierra
que despues de que cuidaste
tan bien de ellas
despues que las regastes con tu rio natural
y las bonaste con tu caricia fertilizante
Adios, nunca te podre decir

"Be" by Jezli Pacheco

2005-08-21T01:31:00.000-07:00

Breathe, and let the aria of life take over your body

Gently swaying to the rythm of sounds that sorround you

Breaking through the chorus of silence in a world of penitence

Jump into the fray and create order in your personal chaos

Regurgitating the amorphous shape of soulful darkness

With vigorous zeal speak your mind and help others understand it

Breathe!

Live!

Be more, than just be.

"What If" by Jezli Pacheco

2005-08-21T01:21:00.000-07:00

What If

To speak is an event

To think is an event

To act is an event

To react is an event

If my poetic musings are rants

If what moves me makes you uneasy

If these experiences are quieted

If you can't listen as much as you talk

Then we are not a society

Then you should question yourselves

Then I have made you think

Then all is not completely lost

For thought is what drives us

For exchange is what unites us

For differences is what makes us

For sacrifice is what creates us

In the time we live

In the land we love

In the societies we change

In the constructions we re-enforce

Because in community we exist

Because with reasoning we dream

Because of emotions we react

Because in reality we forget

That our choices affect more than one

That sometimes some must lose the battle

That our imperfect world is beautifully different

That with vairety comes more living options

With people all around us speaking aloud

With voices rising to sing or shout

With equality obsolete term we do without

With color a definition for the arts

By that moment

By that world

By that life

By that freedom

We can be quiet

Or....We can....Choose to speak out.

Mis Rasgos No Lo Revelan, by Meriel Martinez

2005-08-05T12:43:00.000-07:00

mis rasgos no lo revelan
pero llevo a África dentro
su tierra reside en mi alma
su ritmo construye mi centro
mi piel no es color café
ni rizos son mis cabellos
mi cuerpo no es Yoruba
mas Yoruba es lo que siento

los timbales me dan vida
y las congas son mi aliento
cuando suenan, en mi vientre
gran placer experimento

cuando comienza la clave
no me queda más remedio
que olvidar lo cotidiano
y entregarme a ese momento
permitir que se apodere
de mi cada movimiento,
porque África vive en mi
como Dios vive en mis sueños

Copyright ©2005-Meriel Martínez

Fantasmita por Marcela Barboza

2005-07-27T19:22:00.000-07:00

Fantasmita

Quererte es parte de mi dia,
como abrir los ojos
para pescar por el rabillo
el estado del tiempo, mientras
desperezo neuronas
y comienzo a evocarte.
Es como cuando me recuesto
a leer un buen libro,
y entre linea y linea
me voy preguntando
que final a pensando el autor,
y que estaras tu haciendo.?
O como cuando cocino entreverando
recetas y enloqueciendo ingredientes
mientras revuelvo en mi cabeza
un monton de recuerdos.
Es como cuando limpio,
ordeno, blanqueo,
y le paso el trapito
a ciertos sinsabores
que sin saber pudiste
haberme provocado.
Quererte es mi rutina,
mi talisman,
la linea que me lleva por el camino
mas recto a ser feliz.
Quererte forma parte de mi dia,
sin importar momentos
ni fijarse en horarios
te me apareces fantasmita
para que te diga te quiero
y te vayas con esa misma
sinrazon eterea
que me esta enloqueciendo

Copyright ©2005 Marcela Barboza

"Cuando Pasas" por Marcela Barboza

2005-07-27T19:10:00.000-07:00

Cuando pasas

Cinco minutos
para explicarte
como reaccionan mis sentidos,
como ovacionan mis ojos
tus sombras,
y le silban mis labios
a tus redondeces,
y acarician el aire
por donde tu pasas mis manos,
y huelo el perfume
que te presiento,
y disparo ideas
que dan en el blanco
de mis pensamientos
tan subidos de tono.
O diez minutos
para amar
todo eso que te cuento
en forma resumida
si es que no tienes mucho tiempo.
Los minutos que quieras
dame,
pero dame un segundo asi sea
para respirar el aire
que vas dejando.
Pero dame,
una vida asi entera
que se va la mia
tras tu estela.

Copyright ©2005 Marcela Barboza

"Siestas" por Marcela Barboza

2005-07-27T19:06:00.000-07:00

Siestas

Tus siestas me recuerdan
a mi niñez
(no tan lejana )
cuando dormir era obligado
y soñar cuasi penado.
Un abuelo observando
por el rabillo del ojo
corroborando el estado
de somnolencia, sabiendose mirado
por tres pares de ojos
entrecerrados,
y risas escondidas
bajo las colchas
tan identicas como distintas
fuimos y somos
mis hermanas y yo.
Tus siestas me remontan
a los veranos salinos,
lenos de aire y mar,
mientras ahora escribo
nublada por el calor del encierro
y un aire acondicionado
que no refresca ni la memoria;
perdidos algunos recuerdos
vienes tu y me dices
dormi una siesta.
Vienes tu y me renuevas
dormidas tardes
de mi infancia,
que se levantan
tan frescas
para despertar mis añoranzas.

Copyright ©2005 Marcela Barboza

My Father by Maria M. Flores

2005-07-26T11:11:00.000-07:00

My Father

Two simple words defined his life
Commitment and sacrifice
59 years by my mother's side
Persisting where many desisted
Breaking his back in the scorching sun
To harvest the sugar
That sweetened our coffee
And the tobacco that sickened his lungs
Even when pickings were slim
Dad never failed to bring home the beans
That fed his wife and a brood of 19
Whenever he hungered and had to go without
He'd retrieve the memory of a meal long digested
Quenching his thirst with his tears
And the sweat that fell from his brow

Copyright ©2005 Maria M. Flores

"El Cofre de Recuerdos" by Maria M. Flores

2005-07-23T07:58:00.000-07:00

El Cofre de Recuerdos

Cuando Mama se fue al cielo
En un par de alas doradas
Dejo un cofre de recuerdos
Para que nunca la olvidara
Recuerdo con alegria
Si blanca cabellera Su gracia y su dignidad
La suavedad de su lindo rostro
Y su infinita bondad
Sus calidos abrazos
Que hacian desvanecer
Mi mas profundo dolor
El amor que brotaba como volcan
De su inmenso corazon
Las deliciosas aromas
Que en so cocina habitaban
Su forma de recibir
Al que su puerta llegara
Con una bella sonrisa
Y un caldero sin fondo

Copyright ©2005 Maria M. Flores

"Momma's Treasure Trove" by Maria M. Flores

2005-07-23T07:48:00.000-07:00

Momma's Treasure Trove

When Momma went to heaven
On wings of purest gold
She left a treasure trove of memories
For me to have and hold
And I joyously recall
Her hair the color of virgin snow
Her radiant smile, her gentle grace
The scent of "Olay" on her lovely face
The warm embrace that always made
My deepest sorrows disappear
The love that swelled within her heart
For those she held so dear
The aromas of her kitchen
That wafted through the 7th floor
And always had the neighbors
Salivating at her door
And all who knocked were blessed
With an overflowing serving
Her pots and pans were bottomless
And her kindness was unending

Copyright ©2005 Maria M. Flores

Maria's poetry can also be seen at:
www.poetry.com search Maria M. Flores
or her blog at www.mmflores.com

"Give Away" by JoAnne Reyes-Boitel

2005-07-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

GIVE AWAY

sometimes all I can manage is the coffee pot

no sugar, splashed milk
there’s no love in the act of shifting
the spoon from one side of a ceramic mug to the other

gloria left a message this morning
said she cannot support women anymore
that the world has to do without her ears and hands
the wetness in the air has left, now barren

the mothers all around me have come to term
and still no birth
we say the world cannot be carried inside anymore
but no one listens

mothers are good, would give their six month notice –
even that won’t be enough to restructure the change
we’ll be left like houses without kitchens

what might be different then about the warmth of my coffee
if women stop holding the universe in their bellies?

_____________________

JoAnne Reyes-Boitel ~ poet and writer - queer - mama dyke - cubana/chicana mezcla - cultural worker - working class graphics designer - latin music researcher - libertada y realizada : JoAnne’s work questions gender dichotomies - she starts at the home and moves to the world at large. Winner of the 2001 Alfredo Cisneros de Moral award gifted by Sandra Cisneros, JoAnne also revels in the joy of living in more than one space at any given time, utilizing rhythm and music within her pieces to express a joy for her culture/foundation, and still works poetry as a form of resistance and path to knowledge. Named by Virgil Suarez as a writer to watch out for , JoAnne’s work can be found in Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review , Clackamas Review , red palm , RiverSedge , di-verse-city , The Americas Review , Mesquite Review , Ixhua , San Antonio Express-News, Sinister Wisdom and others.

"Y Me Llaman Latino" by Irmabelle Rivera

2005-07-21T13:39:00.000-07:00

Y Me Llaman Latino

Y me llaman
Latino
mis manos quemadas
del sol
que sienten mis pies.

Pies que bailan y gozan
la danza de
tu alegria

Latino gritan
mis ojos claros

Color cafe
que llaman y nadan
en silencio
sostienen la sed

Con lagrimas
matan y curan
corazones

Tu alma
tu alma y la mia
iguales caminan
se encuentran

El grito
Un grito

Latino

todavia en tus labios
que no dicen mi nombre
y calla
el canto
en tu alma muda.

Muda y vacia.

Alma que
desea
en
silencio

Latino
ser.

Copyright 2005 Irmabelle Rivera

Irmabelle Rivera is also a talented artist
to view her website visit www.frescoarts.com

"Battle Body" by Tanya Torres

2005-07-15T00:41:00.000-07:00

Battle Body

The battles of this body
Have not yet been fought
Because it's new.

It is more new than old
And most of all
It is invented.

It rests on the shoulders of the wise
And regenerates as it understands itself.

This new body
Only needs
An infusion of the placental faith
From that first dawn.

Tanya Torres
www.tanyatorres.com

Testing the mic...123 testing.

2005-06-21T14:22:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Latina Poets Cafe!

2005-06-21T13:10:00.000-07:00

Wecome to the new Latina Poets Cafe and enjoy the poetry of our wonderful latina poets. Coming soon!