Seasonal Poems

Seasonal Poems

Fall Trees

The blond-ing rabble make a few flush ruddy

enough to shed hay.

Crowns burning like brand new copper pennies.

Some with flaxen weeping heads,

drumming fingers or knobby sockets.


Spring Trees

Spring is like a post-wedding afternoon.

Branches brushed with bursting party poppers,

swooning mops,

dabbed and dotted with earlobes and cotton balls,

below bellowing blossoms and star fall paddling in the breeze.

 


– Rachel R. Vasquez, October 2016

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

Weather Poems

Weather Poems

December’s confused.

Trees like bulging veins,

blighting silver skies.

Clawing angrily for blankets

on unsalted grounds,

and toothless winds.


 

Lace-less buildings

and unglazed streets!

Exposed knees,

and clip-less teeth!

Frost-less windows are causing distress!

The season’s in limbo,

and the trees undressed!


 

The mist polishes us ’till we glisten.

Until the roads mirror like diorite –

Until the white creeps up the glass –

Until we shiver into lisps,

and our cheeks florid.


 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, February 2016

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

It feels like…

It feels like –

I’m in love!

I wanna dance in the kitchen,

and scream as loud as I can until I can’t breath in anymore.

Not because I’m angry, but because I need to

move.

It feels like

JUMP!

Dive!

Spin ’round and ’round in circles

until I can’t stop laughing

and I can’t see straight.

It feels like

grab all the people I love

and squeeze them

because we’re all dying.

But no one else seems to see it

except for me.

 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 1/15/2016

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

I don’t even know if I should call this a poem. More like something impulsive I had to write and get out this morning. Maybe someday I’ll refine it and it’ll be pretty but, meh. It is what it is.

Old Places

For those places
no longer home.
Kept safest
in your mind’s own.

Heart aches for trodden roads.
Soul weighs with forgotten ghosts.

A hum who’s words are lost,
of curtains drawn,
and bridges crossed.

The streets recede
twisted and strange.
I know this dream
if only by name.

This Avenue’s familiar.
The gates –
The doors –
In another world similar
I’ve been before.

They beckon from pictures,
from over my shoulder.
Yet once I’ve turned,
they slip even farther.

Someplace traversed
and somewhere fond.
I can never return
once they’ve gone.

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 11/11/2015

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

“If I come back, it will be a place, but it won’t be home any longer.” – The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

I’m learning a common pattern in my life. From old jobs to old schools, once you’ve left a place in that point of time, you can never return. Even if you do, it will never be the same. It never feels the same. You can miss what it was, wish for it to become that place again, but that place is just a place once it’s no longer home.

The Chambers

The Chambers

Descent into the Chambers
bring us ever closer to the day
the towers fell.

The stomach is lined with bone.

Several eyes that never pair
flit about and
watch us scatter to various orifices
to escape the bellowing labyrinth.

Black ribs keep us from
shrieking accordions.

No man dare venture into the darkness without armor.

The smog temporarily lifts
when innards swing us towards
a blind Canal.

The Canal washes us all away until Spring.

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 7/1/2015

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Toying with the idea that the Chambers Street station is actually alive. Was inspired by all the eye mosaics on the wall. I might expand on this more. I feel like I can make more metaphors towards monsters if I keep going. I like the suggestion of the stations after Chambers going uptown. 🙂

125th Street

125th Street

125th Street.

Is this the mouth,

or the ass

of the city?

 

How did everyone decide to dig ditches?

Trenches before they were

too far to go back so

they connected the holes instead?

 

The 4 gently trembles.

Waking bleary-eyed keyboard musicians

with screeching after

falling with one foot

into a pit.

 

Happens every time.

 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 5/2015

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

Randomness. That’s all I have to say. Hopefully writing with more effort coming soon. 🙂

Rican Enough

Wait, wait!

My fingertips aren’t orange enough yet!

 

Hold on a sec!

I’m not done stretching my earlobes.

 

Don’t ask me to salsa.

It’s the one question I can never perform.

 

Heaven forbid!

Ave Maria!

My hips don’t orbit my feet!

Are they supposed to?

 

I left my beads at home.

What the hell am I supposed to do

now that I’m naked?

 

Naked and still burn.

Never rust just right enough.

Guess I’ll have to peel off another layer

and try again.

 

Beg the sun

to bloom my ass like it does the flowers.

 

Fire, fire, fire!

Fuego, fuego, fuego!

Am I hot enough yet?

Am I dark enough yet?

 

I haven’t checked in a while,

but I’m hoping today is the day

I’m Rican enough.

 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 6/2/2015

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

Wrote this on my morning commute. There’s been this constant pressure for as long as I can remember to prove my ethnicity. Was randomly thinking about it this morning and this poem was the result.

My favorite stanza is the fuego part. Also PSA, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Be proud. This is still something I’m trying to learn myself. 😉