Local Social Network for the Arts Community in Central Valley
It is a fierce love,
that I see
when I look into her eyes.
I can feel the courage in her heart.
She speaks to me,
from a photograph.
I hear
the unselfish determination,
the driving force,
echoing
in the voices,
that tell her story.
The story of Zoraida “Ale” Reyes,
activist,
woman,
defender of the persecuted,
began with a declaration:
I am a…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 8, 2015 at 1:09pm — 1 Comment
Once,
as I heard a fellow poet,
go on and on
about how much Fresno's existence offended and oppressed him,
about,…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 8, 2015 at 1:05pm — No Comments
Difficult to write when the fire is
burning out of control.
Difficult to speak.
I would rather scream,
guttural,
unhinged at the jaw,
mouth agape,
swallowing entire cities whole.
With a knee to the neck,
arms and legs pinned down,
beneath the weight of violence,
blatant disregard to the value of
a human life,
and criminal abandonment,
the soul of a community
beaten and…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 8, 2015 at 12:59pm — No Comments
Perfección
Como se desencadenan las ideas,
y se libera de este mal?
Amores son como la fiebre,
cuando uno de los dos quiere mas.
En estas cosas de ternura,
solo es riesgo
la verdad.
Si no te ama con locura,
recuerda,
corazón sabio,
que
no tiene ninguna culpabilidad.
Aquí,
no hay nada que se tenga que perdonar.
Así son los amores,
se mueren o se dan.
No vas a perder un…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 8, 2015 at 12:57pm — No Comments
At this moment,
my heart exploded into sun flowers.
The tips of my fingers, toes and tongues
sprouted beautiful lush greens,
allowing my words to pour out of vines
that ripened into swollen squash ,
with tender creamy yellow flesh.
A new bloom with each step forward .
The fruit ,
settling along the ground I walk on,
growing out in every direction .
The squash open,
seeds pour out at my…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 8, 2015 at 12:55pm — No Comments
This is my mind.
I guard it with my life.
I have spent too many days and nights,
tirelessly sifting through sand,
gathering up threads and pieces ,
to ever
let it
be lost.
This is my body.
I guard it with my mind.
I have spent too many hours fighting,
to own it.
I cannot give it away to pain
or,
without meditation,
to pleasure,
as though it was…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 8, 2015 at 12:52pm — No Comments
Added by Aideed Medina on January 22, 2015 at 8:00pm — 1 Comment
Added by Aideed Medina on January 21, 2015 at 1:08pm — No Comments
Yo no creo en definiciones, ni limitaciones
Mi poder esta en mi corazón
En la belleza que traigo por dentro.
Ser mujer
Es mi bendición
Y no dejare
que me detengan
por el simple hecho
que tengo caderas.
Que si puedo ser madre,
Eso a mi
no me limita
Y no me lo…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on November 23, 2014 at 2:00pm — No Comments
Because,
I am fearless,
you call it careless.
I am going to stay
without your caress,
which would at this moment
only
serve to stop my
never ending march
to that some where
I am heading to.
Mi alma se esta abriendo,
mis sueños y mis palabras corriendo ,
como un rio descontrolado.
My voice is sounding off like brass notes.
I am growing in stature,
sitting in the…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 16, 2014 at 2:14am — No Comments
This is my belly.
It is not shaped like an athlete’s belly.
It is shaped by too many pan dulce sessions,
tortillas,
cookies
and pizza.
This belly has held life four times,
but only given…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on July 15, 2014 at 12:00am — 2 Comments
There is a cadence,
and
my senses are dancing
to the delicious
rhythm
he is playing,
with the swift movement
of the steel
hitting
steel.
From the flame, the smoke and the seed,
comes the harmony.
His hands, heart and mind are working
flavor onto the plate.
I can taste the dedication
hidden in the aroma,
savor the concentration
in his brow.
I have watched enough…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on May 3, 2014 at 7:00pm — No Comments
Oh…
he is dignified
and I am soul searching
in his face.
Siempre estoy buscando
Alguna pista
En esa mirada,
Y cuando de pronto la encuentro,
bajo mis ojos al instante.
I am rectified
and meekly write
what I cannot hope to comprehend.
I tilt my head to one side and look again.
I will call it honor,
This elusive quality,
I catch a glimpse of…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on January 11, 2014 at 1:07am — 2 Comments
Soy solo una mujer,
an unguarded heart
and an untamed mind.
I am quick to drink
from the heaven
I trace in his features,
each time I visit his face.
I create new terrain for my stories as I start
at his eyes and fall deep along the lines of his mouth.
Yo lo miro,
through these tunnel visions,
these myopic views.
I see life
inverted, reflected in his skeptical gaze.
He is only a…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on January 11, 2014 at 1:04am — No Comments
Me llamaste india
como si fuera la propia palabra
una cachetada.
Como si fuera un insulto.
Y me reí de ti a
carcajadas
por lo ignorante
que
eres.
Con mucho orgullo soy mestiza.
Soy mucho más india que la mazorca
que te da de comer.
¿Dime paisano, en que momento decidió una nación odiarse a si mismos?
Yo nací lejos del
pueblo
de mis…
Added by Aideed Medina on September 26, 2013 at 5:04pm — No Comments
Added by Aideed Medina on September 18, 2013 at 2:30am — No Comments
Listen.
Where does he find the time?
Where does he find the soul?
Tugs me along with careless selections of masterful songs
DJ, Músico, mi Maestro.
Here is an instrument for you to play,
beneath the skin,
where music begins,
the sound is mixed,
and
the beats find willing counter parts.
You can record straight into me.
Control the tempo and the bass,
teach me more
about my own rhythmic…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on August 21, 2013 at 3:00am — No Comments
Strawberries.
Red stained deputy's patrol car ,
victim of a strawberry war,
traviesa de ojos grandes,
curls caked in fruit.
" Una buena chinga te van a poner bonita", says the blond blue eyed man with the badge.
He is speaking Spanish,
and it scares me
more than the knowledge my aunt Guille is going to smack me
for throwing strawberries at her friend's…
Added by Aideed Medina on August 20, 2013 at 4:24pm — No Comments
What would be
the best distance
between
he and I?
Would it be miles, or inches?
Hours, or days?
When what I want
the stretch
to be,
is
only seconds and swift.
The shortest distance
between
his lips and mine.
The most desperate
distance
from my
eyes.
How long could it be?
Enough to hear him say
my name,
before I feel…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on June 23, 2013 at 11:05pm — No Comments
below the yellow street lamp glow.
White T- shirt,
black pressed pants.
He is wearing The Uniform.
His hands
are tucked away
in his pockets.
He shuffles his feet from side to side
and looks up,
head tilted,
he is saying something.
I do not remember
the…
ContinueAdded by Aideed Medina on June 19, 2013 at 4:00pm — No Comments
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