Poetry

Happy National Poetry Day!

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Today, we celebrate National Poetry Day. Hope you are sitting in a corner of your favorite room. On your favorite chair. At your desk at work or school break reading your favorite poem. At the library or bookstore picking up or downloading a great poetry book. Plan to make it a beautiful day, night, once you get home from whatever. Whatever your plans, make it awesome, enjoy it. Let it lose. Search for its meaning, its interpretation, the writer’s message. Hear its musical hymns. Don’t miss the point. Decode it. Don’t assume. Live it. Fill your tank up!

IMG_2398Humor Him!

He went to the supermarket yesterday
and he fastened his seatbelt.
He reached for his pocket, but it floated-
no token left!
Unable to count the coins, he was left
to bargain for the delights of the open market:
the exquisite strawberries
the ecstatic colors of the grapes
the aroma of an orange dazzling him
radiant and awesome dishes.
The fresh and gorgeous leaves
delicious aromatic drinks filling the handsome racks
all kinds of stunning meats
rich and varied seafood
elegant poultry parading the embellished shelves
just like a fashion show unveiling the latest craze-
the greatest foods of the summer-
the emporium was mannered, gay, sunny, enthusiastic, and vicious,
accessorizing the environment
like perfect music personifying the deserving mood.
He gratefully sampled the food
his taste buds salivating
envisioning his next dinner.
With the refrigerator uninhabited,
he abstained from his daily indulgences.
Parleying Français, the beautiful French bread
arrogantly smirked.
Breaking the news
the magazines harmonized.
The paper accessories crying out:
“Pick me, pick me,” sang.
Peeking vitamin conscious tofu food also
let its groove be known.
Seeing none of his tears lingering,
“No cash back?” they inquired,
packing the minute grocery
the elder smiled.
Longing for last-minute refuge
he hastily zipped through the store
envisioning the needful components
he exited with no pain at all, staring at the reality.

© 2007 Raining in May by Angela Aguiar

 

 

 

Who Is She?

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IMG_8107She is my sister, my mother, my friend
my body, my homie!
She is my true blood
my main squeeze.

She is the one who knows,
the one who understands, well…
at least she pretends
for a day, an hour, a minute, a second,
for weeks gone down.

With a full force of a speeding train,
a hurricane,
she marches in with a vengeance
at whatever and whenever,
and stays in
even if not invited.

She is my good friend
a sincere agent
day and night
without a price.

She does not judge but
listens intensively
and does not blame
just praises.

She does not interrupt but
is always there, ready, for the next round.
She does not instruct and never hangs up – the
phone, there is.
She always remembers
your address
your birthday
your celebrations.
She always stays in touch
is the first to arrive,
the last to leave
always there!

She is my sister, my mother, my friend
my partner, my cousin, my aunt, my grandma.
She is my body, my homie, my sista, my peeps,
my true blood and
true self.
She is a woman and a friend,
she is you!
Thank you for being you,
thank you for being a woman.
Happy International Women’s Day!

© 2009 Angela Aguiar

Second Chance, The Poem

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Fantasy became reality before my eyes:
a soft flower piercing below my chin
a fly in my wing to a miracle reunion.
Pondering the journey
I walked perpendicular to the velvet hotel corridor.
Possessed by own fear
I pondered the outcome,
melting away anxiously
trying to find the courage to embrace the reunion
with the one who got away many lights before.
As I methodically counted each of the steps
consciously drifting away from the excitement,
I tried to block him out of mind
clenching my fist, mulling over the fortunate change I had
to reunite with the precious stone I genuinely loved.
Wanting to stop by a liquor store,
to throw away my fears,
I temporarily wavered back into a corner
swinging back and forth into memories –
a stingy steps from a plunge, the door.
The mailman delivered the exciting news that
my prayers had been answered:
my charming prince, my first great love was hear.
Breaking away in a sweat
I nervously reached for my scrambled spongy heart
unraveling whether the terrain was still sparkling.
Believing in love and romance,
I longed to summon up the puberty
the punishing desire carried in the ferocious first kiss.
Hunting for the perfect ending
we sized each other up.
He stared at me, I stared at him without a word, without a say
just us breathing.
With my knees quavering uncontrollably
I runt to him, he ran to me
tossing our arms around like dogs in heat.
Overwhelmed, I froze,
paralyzed.
His eyes looking straight at me
our lips locked in a tender juicy kiss
weakening my body, tossing me away like the wind.
We smiled gently striking the sun, not letting go
realigning our startling story,
I cried uncontrollably re-discovering love once more.

© Raining in May