claudiapena.com

I carry my roots
like an Emerald inside a cave
light and strong
bright and unmistaken
if forgotten
I’ll fall to my feet
swept away, woohoo!
with the first wind’s whim

I use it as my lullaby
how many times have I heard,
“Portate bien,”
family fearing corruption
as I travel to a place
where women went loose
and morals ran wild
they all sung the lullaby

I wear my roots
like a visible corset
on a long checkered skirt
detail all the beauty there is to know
barely pick up my feet
as my hips campanile
to a cumbia beat

And I whisper my name
It carries my roots
brown and strong
beautiful and flexible
challenged and challenging
rolled up in the pillow
where I lay my head to sleep

Thai dancers at my local Buddhist temple.

Monday in the Neighborhood

Three o’clock in the morn argument
make-up 3:15,
ah, they both sound like squealing pigs running in glee
one just has better timing than the other
–You called the cops? WHY? WHY?–
Gone by 3:45 as the pickup truck
revved Harley engine screeches out
from the neighborhood
the neighborhood
My lulling sweet neighborhood.

7 cooking in the incubator
Lard dripping chorizo orange egg tacos
and the broccoli in the back smells like wet sneakers
Lasagna spaghetti vegetable surprise
that the cafeteria lady wont touch
unless its with a wooden 2ft spatula
it’s just another Monday
unventilated
cow chattering
lowly Monday

5:30, workout
A blind men runs behind me
circling the ten that run in front of me
the symphony of bodies slamming
from 6ft up is music to my ears
and depending on who throws you
the fall can feel like 200ft
from way above the airy mist
to way below in the deep blue sea

Few know how to really say my name
the way my soul would jump and ache
and in the Tao of Claudia
everything changes
but the music stays the same
the men are still God’s gift to sight
as they move along the wave
claiming a square cut turf
of my neighborhood
of my neighborhood
of my sweet magnolia
and cut zacate lovely neighborhood

A scene from my deep blue sea:

I sneeze–
Both from the crass to the very cultural
The bum, the filth, the smell
The starry autumn nights who contemplate
Resonate in the parched over
Yippified roads of midtown
Of the overprice quarter million bungalows

The city feeds into me
The soft buzzing lights murmur my name
I’m baptized by acid rain
Near overpriced
Rice village alma matter seranade–

BMW almost runs me down,
“I just want an extra foamy la-tte”
I roll my eyes–

The ugly and the beautiful manifest around me,
So I present to you the flowers of my soul
Enjoy but never keep

Scenes from the Art Car Awards Ceremony in Houston

Again from the vault of my teenage years…Yo necesito decirte que te quiero,
que mi boca quema con tu nombre,
que mi verso respira con tu encuentro,
que mi mente se sofoca en tu pasión

Te confieso: He pecado
fantaseando con tus labios,
pues poca chanza me has dejado
de pecar en lo más carnal

Te digo mi amor estos hechos:
Impides mis sueños
nublas la luz de mi enfoque,
y en veladas sin juicio
preñas las páginas de mi diario con tu esencia.

Mentir ó no mentirte,
vivir ó no vivir…
importa menos
que tú querer
o no quererme.

Como más te puedo suplicar?
Entre mas me acerco a tu corazón,
mas me hundo en el fuego de la inquisición,
con una imagen brutal y lejana
de nuestro amor, que en un beso judío suspira,
quizás sí, tal vez no.

For my great grandparents, they fought for each other

I must say a big thank you to OneBlogADay.com for their May 10th interview. I also have to thank Milca at ewritings.com for opening up her post on April 28th with my poetry. Thank you so much!

I apologize I have been running behind on my postings. Much link love expressed for Robert Revell for including me in his blogs: Womangodsmasterpiece.com and the Revellian.blogspot.com. The imaginary diva has also included me on her blog roll who by the way has some really great wordpress tips on her website. Speaking of cool women, I also have to give link love to Stage Left, bella della for the link love and the invitation to an awesome birthday party. Finally, a man that made me pop out my dictionary, my Tom Waits musicology, my camera and finally my itunes gift card: Chimeric Daydreams. I love the fog pics!

I will end with a really cool writer introduced to me via Tish from SerenityQuest.com, Anais Nin. Nin says: “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.” Darn! Why can’t it come with a warning of bitter aftertaste or hurling action? I guess that’s what trains the palate.

Getting involved in students’ lives has its rewards and consequences. I sit and watch the smiling girl on stage dancing giving the Lord a silent prayer of thanks.

Last week her mother cried nonstop in the hallway regardless of who watched or not. “No, you can not do anything about it now, do not worry, Ms. Z. I know it feels bad, but do not worry.”

“Pero por que yo? Por que mi nina? No es justo!” But why me, why my child, it is not fair. I wanted to choke in emotion. The little girl whimpered with her mom.

Second meeting. Seeing the mother feels like watching short silent foreign vignette. She edges up to me and wants me to talk; so I talk as I clean the room. The weather is hot…the money, well, getting another job, you know how that goes. I can’t help but to see the sadness in her eyes. It is hard being alone and I don’t understand it either, I confirm. Sometimes you do everything right and still you get what you don’t want. I know but perhaps it is because there is a greater happiness ahead. She bows her head and smiles. My art room makes her feel happy and I welcome her to stay as long as she wants. She exits silently after 15 minutes. I hope she comes back next week.

Some things really get under my skin. The logical side of me screams, why? Because it was easy? Because you felt power? Because she was alone under your care? Because you could? Because it was a child? WHY? God, help me, WHY? I give the Lord a second prayer of thanks for this moment.

This is my scream into the silence, nothing more can be done.