Realization

image

From childhood through adolescence,
I struggled with academics daily.
In elementary school, I remember
wanting to learn but not knowing how.
In high school, I wanted to engage
in literary, rational discussions,
but I didn’t know how;
nobody had ever taught me how.
I had no skills and knew no strategies.
I learned those terms while teaching.
In college, I’d stay quiet to prevent
humiliation by teachers and students.
I wasn’t happy being a silent student;
I’d always been rather outspoken.
I chose to speak and speak against
injustices I saw around me everyday.
The worst injustices happened during
my teaching career, on site.
Eventually these injustices at work
and neighborhood led to a massive stroke.
The stroke caused brain damage,
but in my tradition as a fighter,
I survived the stroke and soon
went back to graduate school to resume
and complete a Master’s degree.
I also started publishing my writing.
I realized that if I could go back to school
and succeed, although not easy, after a stroke,
it meant I’d always been pretty smart;
I just didn’t realize it, and nobody had told me either.
I also learned some high school classmates
saw me as the ‘smart’ one.
Now I know for sure I’m smart, but I wonder
how much more I’d have accomplished
had I known since childhood how smart
I have always been.

Copyright@2016 Martina Gallegos

Fecund, Seminal, Collider

One after another the tiny bodies emerge.

When the time for birthing comes, they all come out.

Birth makes its own rules, its own time.

Strategies vary.

One whale or elephant child is born, and fiercely guarded,

While the salmon spends itself to find a place to strew its smelt and eggs together in great abandon.

The simple invertebrate spews its spawn on clouds across the ocean,

You;re on your own, kids!

The odds are some will survive.

If we told the sea turtle its eggs could only hatch one at a time,

a phalanx of predators would set up camp and dine at their leisure.

Instead, a horde of determined four footed engines floods the sand and heads for the ocean.

Some will survive, and those that do live long and prosper.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, they say,

But if you do,

Watch that basket.

The strategy for the poet is to foster fecundity,

but give make each tiny life the chance to  grow in strength and viability

so that it has a solid shot at survival.

There is only so much control that is possible.

So much is left to chance.

Labor pushes out another one.

haunted house

At last! The final box unpacked

And all my books are neatly stacked

Upon the shelf, and over there

By the window sits my chair

From which my weary gaze to cast?

When whiskey soused I rest, at last.

 

Cold hands shake and ice cubes chink

Foggy fingers reach and slink

Across the water, close and low

Obscuring all that lies below

And nodding, only half awake

A whisper and my Cold hands shake.

 

A sudden chill passes through me

Reaching blindly fear subdues me

Light a candle, shadows darken

Taut and tense, all senses hearken

Did I hear a wailing shrill?

Rise and fall, a sudden chill

 

The air turns cold, I sit alert

I hear the swishing of a skirt

On the dusty floor, what’s this?

The echo of a lovers kiss?

A phonograph from days of old

With scratching tune, the air turns cold

 

“What say you, wraith? From whence you speak?”

Ghostly tendrils brush my cheek

And icy breath, into my ear

Whispers “you’re not welcome here”

I start and shake. This can’t be true.

Her voice an echo, “what say you?”

 

Voice quivering, I reply

“I’ll belong here, by and by.”

I sense on frozen lips, a smile

And think of all the time I’ll wile

In haunted house, then shivering,

Whimpering, voice a quivering

 

I fall down, dead weight, sink

Into my chair, my eyelids blink

From my hand my glass falls, shatters

I drift away from all that matters

I see my heavy nodding head

A last breath out, I fall down dead.

 

At last, the final box unpacked

Her kitchen shelves are neatly stacked

Weariness etched on her face

The girl who soon will take my place

Evening is falling fast

And I will wander free at last.

 

 

#16 – Smoke Dancer (first line repeat)

If I were to sometime see you dance, I know my heart would sing,
perhaps once the circumstance, betwixt between and everything
Never once have I thought it through, but now the ends in sight
You creating the maid mist’s view and me, the wandering knight
Some say its better left in dreams, but nothing is just what it seems

The dream to you it may seem small, but certain magic enables all
From prior lives I know you well but have never seen you swirl
I’d love to share the forest floor with you and join you in a twirl
To float about with smoke and sky, to use the heavens as our swing
If I were to sometime see you dance, I know my heart would sing

Hour 13: Royal Blue

1. met on the ocean where perfect sun-drenched blue ate our doubts.
2. it’s the closest to being magic I will ever get, but when wind whips us, all the chills will disturb the calm.
3. is there anything worth the sapphire eyes and drowning?
4. could come and turn me into a dream, rain hosted my soul and never let me go in the space we filled with tundra blue, never kissed you blue, ate all my blue and never asked me to come back.
5. I was royal blue on your lips when you licked all the sentiments off my skin and hugged me like I were a savior but not quite. I died all the time against your shameless need for me.
6. you told me to be grumpy was the best medicine for your disappointment.
7. I was royal blue and I felt holy right then.
8. I never looked good without the moon and tonight I prayed for new flesh, and I don’t think about it, like I should think about it.
9. come hold me in the snow, an ocean of green and teal, and disturbed and we slept for months,
and everything went white and back to blue, some sort of cleanse,
I could pretend so harshly for you.
10. I was royal blue and I felt so much more disturbed in the venom song.
11. We met on the ocean and I turned all the secrets into rogue waves and let the silence eat our doubts and I’m shitty for being so needy and I was royal blue and there was nothing you could do, to rid yourself of me.

Lost

#Prompt 16

I like being lost

To not know

Where the way end

I can stay blind

Fear can’t touch me

Blind don’t see scary things

I can’t hear

the rules, the spiteful things

You can’t follow, what you can’t hear

I can only speak

Singing is what I do

I laugh at the order of world

The society doesn’t bind me

Because I’m retarded

And I like being lost

 

For the society that tries to impose rules on me.

Ten Years Ago I Wanted to Pierce My Nose

image

Ten years ago I wanted to pierce my nose

but I joined a firm instead.

My partners thought it wild,

clashing with the cobalt blue seriousness

of our office walls and wisdom.

So I waited til I left the firm to pierce my nose.

My daughters had theirs pierced by then.

Yet I caved in to pressure in the last minute:

it will jeopardize your reputation, and

the outcome of your case

may be prejudiced, prejudged, predetermined

by another’s preconceived notions

about piercings and morals and drugs,

noise like that, which I know is just bull shit.

But I chickened out, and now my nose

has grown long with age, and the piercing

would not look right wedged between wrinkled

doubt and oily regrets oozing from gaping pores.

I’ve made a mess of this decision.

Has it been ten years since I wanted to pierce my nose?

 

(xiv) love, naturally….

moss gathers stone wall in it’s arms
…there is the verdant summer embracing her.

the softness of her form,
the firmness of her throne;

and the beauty the season wears…

To my wildflower

She was like wisteria
Wild and free and purple
And she exploded into view
When summer turned to fall

How could anyone know
That I would love her most of all

What I came to learn
Is she was wild and free for sure
But she bloomed anew every morning
In the garden that earned my blue ribbon

She never fades, or falls away.
The sun never spoils her color.
The rain never beats her down.

She’s my wildflower.
Untamed by my gaze
unaffected by my hand
free to run and grow
I am ever focused on my wildflower
The view is never bland