Category Archives: Poetry

Sunday Stew: Who I Am

by Matt Sedillo

Who Am I
Who I am by Sladjana Endt

Plato

In a cave

Shakespeare

At the Globe

Napoleon

On the Rhine

All roads

Lead to Rome

Jefferson

In his study

Alexander

Cried

Lincoln

Freed the slaves

And history

Would not lie

Washington

On the Delaware

Take time

To learn

Your forebears

They

Are you

Though

You

Are not

You are

Nowhere

Born

Of nothing

History

Is written

To keep

Its victims

Learn

To think

English

Swarthy horde

Barbarian at the gate

Even in insult

Color

Erased

From the soil

Roots

To be razed

You

Of burn codice

You

Without legacy

Skin

Without myth

Blood

Without legend

You bastard children

Never

Seem to learn

Your lesson

The academy

Is no game

Of call

And response

It is the smoke rising

Of burning village

Europe

More construct

Than continent

Less land mass

Than concept

More west

Than civilization

More land grab

Than destination

White

Something

I was taught

When I was young

I was not

A place

Where the census

Now tells me

To check

A box

Of Hispanic

Descent

Burned down the past

Now back for the rest

Claw

All that

Indigenous

From my chest

Born stateless

Heir to every injustice

Every pen

Every blade

Every cannon

Every burnt page

Born of 1846

Or was it 1538

1519

1492

Or of nothing

Of no one

The unsung ballad

Of history’s

Forgotten son

Tell me again

Who it is

That I am not

For some

Old world hardships

Crashed

Against new shores

Newfoundland

New Hampshire

New Jersey

New York

Plymouth Rock

For others

Pushed off

Turtle Island

Atzlan

Do not call this brown

Skin immigrant

Child of the sun

Son of the conquest

Mestizo blood

Born of the streets

Of South Seattle

Who draws his breath

From different winds

Learns the past

In a different skin

Do not tell him

In what native tongue

His song would best

Be sung

Do not tell me

Who I am

Sunday Stew: My Daughter’s Eyes

by Monique Franklin

D Eyes

My daughter has the most beautiful eyes

she has the prettiest chocolate brown eyes

I have ever seen

when I see her eyes

I want to eat them all up

and when I eat them all up

Delicioso

those dark chocolate centers

see through to the center of my soul

and just take my love straight from the source

in those eyes

burns fire enough

to burn this whole place down

so the earth may be reseeded

growing the greenest lush ever imagined

in her eyes

in those eyes

there are questions that I am not ready with answers

they question you

they question me

it hurts to see

that her questions are already questioning she

I see pain

in my daughters eyes

in those eyes

is a fierce agent

equipped with intelligence and reason

sonic hearing devices that make we wish I didn’t talk so

loud sometimes

with a memory to argue reality down to the seconds

creativity to trick the truth

she’s definitely got her mother eyes

in her eyes

in those eyes

in my daughters eyes

the prettiest eyes

the fiercest eyes

the wisest eyes

I find joy

and when those sleepy eyes close

safely after another day of living

I find peace in her eyes

laying with my daughter in bed

last night

she started talking to me

in her poets voice

and she said:

“My mom has the most beautiful eyes

she has the prettiest chocolate brown eyes

I want to eat them all up

and when I eat them all up

I have ever seen

when I see her eyes

I say

Delicioso”

Sunday Stew: Democracy

by Matt Sedillo

Carival of Democracy Richard Habal
Democracy by Richard Habal

If a tree falls in the forest

And no one is there to hear it

Does it make a sound

If a ballot falls in a box

And no one knows

What they are voting for

Does it really count

What happens to a dream deferred

To justice deterred

To life

When it becomes impossible to live it

I don’t want to know

Because I want more than a vote

I want to be a participant

See

I want to live in a free country

A democracy

Where hate speech

Doesn’t pass for freedom

Where

No one has to turn to crime

To feed their children

If you were to put

A measure on a ballot

I would vote for democracy

I want the same things as anyone

And i want them for everyone

I want to live in a free country

A democracy

Not with over two million

Locked in cages

Or millions more

Pushed into the street

Where as Ferguson shows

You cant even surrender

To police

One nation

Under ghetto birds

And terror copters

Locking down children

At the border

Cutting off

Families

From their water

While cutting lunch programs

To drop bombs on Iraq

I dont want to live like that

I want to live in a free country

A democracy

What happens to a dream deferred

To justice deterred

To life

When it becomes impossible

To live it

If you don’t know who you are

You can never know your power

You dont know who you are

But you will soon find out

Let your voice be heard

And may it finally count

Sunday Stew: The Ecstasy of Now

by Sampson Moore

Rebirth by Piero Manrique
Rebirth by Piero Manrique

there’s a glint from a grim corpse you can see as it slithers from the dark grave

in dire search to reprise a role played so long ago that yesterday forgets

its head ascends in silence to glimpse a life it longed to live

if only it owned the courage it had to borrow

if only it possessed the passion it desired to lend

to view a vantage of life it housed in wishes and journeyed to in dreams

its bitter poison willfully swallowed now exchanged for the savory saccharine

and what was long exhaled is breathed in

the dead, the gone, mine ancient carrion so bewildered, can only peer at future yesterdays

to see me smile wide enough to stretch the boundaries of a lifetime, from what was, to what will be, all with the gleam from the exquisite today

Sunday Stew: Does Heaven Have a Layaway Plan

 

by Latonya D

"Road to Heaven" courtesy of Polly Green
“Road to Heaven” courtesy of Polly Green

As days go by and I get older and older my soul still straddles the fence

So I often wonder will God still have my defense

As good as i think i am, there’s always a touch of bad that’s why i ponder if heaven has a layaway plan

Where, after so much good you automatically get into the pearly gates and talk to God about those thing you’ve done that you hate

So those who ponder about whether heaven  has a layaway plan, let me ease your mind

God designed us all to make a million mistakes , but he also gives some of us remorse to regret the things we’ve done that we hate

So when you walk up to the pearly gates of heaven and God allows you to cleanse your soul and  hands you the keys to his lakes and valley filled of gold and he says my child all has been forgiven your burdens are now mines to carry

Remember this, even if you have a touch of bad

God will always allow you to be on his layaway plan

Sunday Brew: Perspective

by Matt Aspin

Alone
“You Left Me Alone” by Rokkur Rokkur, Creative Commons

Forty plus years and I’ve rarely been wrong

Betting that you would pen a similar song

Left and Right all doing their thing

Certain that theirs is the right song to sing

Denying the fact we’re all scared by the same

Could just acknowledging our frailty make us a little more sane?

A thin sliver of life in a dark empty zone

It’s no wonder we’re crazy- We’re scared and alone