Wednesday, May 23, 2018



You're an addiction
Say those who misunderstand
The value of my intoxication
Grounded in my cultural interpretation
Of you 

"Wake up!" you say, "Smell me
Not the roses, so pretty
They paint life pink."
Unlike you
Who depict the flow of life in splattering ink

In infancy, I drank your elixir
A must for all, where I come from
You've stimulated my days,
Alerted my awareness, before slumber at night
No harm done
Instead, you've become
The fluid that often fuels connection
With the people I love

I need you, the way my lungs need air
Still, it's not fair
To call our relationship diagnosable
When what you do for me 
Is so utterly laudable

(Yes it's true - During my infancy it was not uncommon for Puerto Ricans to give babies a few drops of coffee in their bottles.  Also, my husband and I ritually drink coffee in the evening a few hours before bed.  No effect to our sleep.)

(For Poets United where Sumana asks us to pay tribute to someone or something.)

Sunday, May 20, 2018


For the last couple of years my husband has been ill.  In and out of hospitals.  Recently, he was told he was doing great.  No need for more regular doctors appointments.  We are in celebration mode and took a sweet vacation to Costa Rica.

We hiked high to see that volcano
Like a parenthesis in time
We walked in fearless enjoyment of life
Forgetting about its surprising eruptions 
Slimy burning lava of suffering, panic, pain

We felt like air
Bright green breathed us 
Magnifying, amplifying our delight
As we fused our nature with nature
Making us beautiful too
Confirming there is time for joy
As we defy or temporarily forget
That volcanos, like life, can spew hot ash.

A little friend we made along the way.

Wednesday, April 25, 2018



I remember my summers 
When I sweltered happily
Dancing in sunny party of my youth
Enjoying the sun as its beating rays
Invited me to play 
Challenging my Icarus within to fly
High into the burning sky 
I remember how I flew in hot tailspins
As the fire singed but didn't melt my skin
I fell then soared again 
Pursuing my dreams
My whims of flames
While the sun beat
Not ever wanting my defeat
Merely wanting to disturb
To bother like an annoying big brother
Teasing me summer after summer

(For Poets United.)

Sunday, April 22, 2018


My friend, Marth Roditti,  sculpted a dragon family who mourns the world. I was unable to import a photo I took (my computers are rebelling), so I am printing my poem which was inspired by her sculptures.  I made no attempt to infuse hope in my poem today, though I am hopeful for this earth.  But I just wanted to acknowledge the sadness I feel for earth as it

A long, long, long time ago
There lived a happy dragon family 
It relied on the power of magic 
That prevailed all around them
Vibrant greens, blues, yellows, reds
All the colors in the spectrum of light
Lived in everything 
Including their hearts
Which beat to the rhythm of rainbows

One day the magic changed
The dragon family was petrified
When colors of a darkened future were revealed
The dragons saw through space and time
Trees, plants, animals, flowers
Slumped until they died
Humans who refused to leave died too
The ones who left never found another paradise
All waters turned brown,
Grey the ground
Earth slowly wilted

The happy dragons were transformed
Into dragons that could only weep
Knowing the world would end
in dark permanent sleep
Their scales like raindrops fell
Because magic had no power over hell
Because when you know your Mother will die
All a dragon can do is cry

Wednesday, April 18, 2018


Close to where I live, there's a spaceport.  Soon a spaceship will be launched carrying some wealthy and brave people into space.  They will be weightless for 2 whole minutes!  For that, they will pay a little fortune.  
I have mixed feelings about space exploration.  The idea entices me and frightens me simultaneously.  But the festival I attended was fun and though I will never invent anything that contributes  to space travel, I did learn some things.


I recently went to a space festival to celebrate
Progress of cosmic explorations
Made me wonder
About our intentions
For all those current and future inventions. 
Will we give or merely take?
With Star Wars' blasts will the heavens break?
Or from starlight's peace will we partake?
Will we be lost in space or find ourselves grounded
By seeds of wisdom growing in a story 
We could now reinvent?
Will we choose detachment to forever avert
Gravity of this earth?
Will entropy write our final chapter
Or will evolution allow us rebirth?

(For Poets United.)

Sunday, April 15, 2018


 My grandmother with my daughter. (1974)
  She raised me.  Also, took care of my daughter for two years.

When I was twenty something
I stopped wearing a bra.
It was symbolically burned
as sign of liberation.
I attended groups to raise
my consciousness enough
to never be like her,
a woman with no liberal aspirations.

When she was in her twenties
she worked in order to feed
four children, the burden
her husband ignored while he
drank his earnings with whores.
After the fire, that killed
one of her kids, she suffered more.
Until she raged against the condemnration
of a woman who fought against her own subjugation.
She left her little country, her husband too,
to work, to save, to establish new rules
in a different world where she was almost a slave.
But she forced her family's transformation.

When I knew her, she was a housewife
who took care of grandkids like me.
Her husband, now sober, worked responsibly. 
He loved her.

I loved her too, but in my twenties,
in my ignorance, my arrogance
I judged she knew nothing about
the struggle to be free. 

(I read this poem on a local radio station yesterday at the request of some friends.  I couldn't come up with a new one today, so I thought I'd reprint it here.  
Wishing everyone a peaceful, happy week.) 

Sunday, April 8, 2018


I saw it from the corner of my eye
My skin crawled like the bug
Slowly creeping 
My impulse was to kill 
Ugly disturbing nuisance
I ran for the broom
To exterminate
This small creepy crawly thing
Causing my fear

But it was just a little cricket
Sort of cute if you think of Jiminy
Not as ugly or germ infested as a roach
That has no right to live 
Even if it's simply, naturally,
instinctively seeking
Food, shelter, life

I let the little cricket hide
Die naturally sometime outside my view
To eventually be swept away
From dust to dust
Death to death
Judged by my idea of mercy

(For Poets United.)