My little cousin

Here is a little poem I wrote for my cousin. She’s 7 and it’s in Spanish. But it’s basically toy-themed and also, nature-themed. It’s about creating our own imaginative universe- in which nothing makes sense-, having things in common, how I’ll be there for her when she needs me and how I want her to create her life with me in it, but I don’t exactly want to be her example. I want to give her the tools she needs and for her, to make decisions and make what she wants of life. She’s like my sister and I love her to death. I think that we sort of inspire each other and I love that. After the poem, there’s a picture of the two of us which was taken a year ago, but I still think it’s really cute.

“De prima hermana a hermana prima,

Mi bateria le doy para que la moto de Ken conduzca,
La dejaré chocarse,
Pero mi socorrista siempre ira a su rescate,
Papel y colores le daré,
Para que pinte su propio cielo.

Que encuentre la tierra y el cielo,
Que riegue la tierra con las lagrimas que derroche en el cielo,
Que haga el aire y el fuego suyos,
Que se parezcan a los mios,
Que juntas creemos un universo.

Un universo secreto,
donde los peluches son reyes,
Y Ken y Barbie sirvientes,
Donde las plumas son nuestros maestros,
Enseñandonos a volar y a escribir.

Sin sentido pero sintiendo,
Jugamos con fuego,
Aunque anhelamos el agua,
Nos dejamos llevar por el viento,
Aunque tengamos los pies en la tierra,
Hasta que podamos crear nuestro universo”

Photo on 6-29-12 at 11.15 AM #2


Blown kisses

Blown once,

Caught twice,

And Lost thrice,

Are the kisses from my eyes,


Blinking with my sweetest smile,

Will you never see I can’t do rhymes?

And that I kiss with all but my lips,

Because from my lips I speak,

So, don’t mess up with me!


 What are those words I speak?

Coming from my lips, they’re definitely not a kiss,

I speak non-sense and you’re blown-away,

Because you can’t understand a word I say.


How does she kiss if not from her lips, you might ask,

Let me tell you, there’s a secret to that,

Twirling my hair, licking my lips, blinking fast,

shaking my hips, smiling softly, remembering the past,


Never noticed, and that’s why they are;

Blown once,

Caught twice,

And lost thrice,

Because real kisses have a price. 


(It’s kind of confusing I know, I was writing really random stuff and I put them together and this is what came out of it! Tell me what you think!:D) 

Double-sided paper

You look up, I look down,
I say yes, you say no,
You can act but can’t think,
I can think but can’t act,
You can’t stop talking,
I just love sitting there and listen,
Beautiful, thin, smart, confident, outgoing,
Ugly, fat, dumb, insecure, introvert

And then I find out that You and I are the same person: simply 2 different sides of me.

My needle.

Needle! where are you?
Because I’m not able to catch you, 
and you are pricking me everywhere, 
I feel how pointy, sharp, and painful you are. 
Damn! You can’t stay still. 
Finding you is beyond the bounds of possibility,
Like finding a needle in a haystack.  

Hey I got you! 
You Dumb needle! 
Now, with you, I’ll unstitch “impossibility” and sew a rainbow, 
a boundless, infinite rainbow with nonexistent yet beautiful colors.  
“If a needle is pricking you,
Take that needle and start to saw”- Me

My unfixed bridge

The sun shines,
With a smile on a blue sky,
Shines on the grass,
Shines on a smiling me,
but shines too much on a bridge,

The broken bridge of dreams, 
not a bridge of broken dreams,

An important bridge it is, 
yet for it to be crossed,
I must cut down a tree,
a firm tree, 
and fix that bridge,
fix that bridge! 
Go get Lost in It. 

(I translated this poem into Spanish, just to see how it sounded… and it sounds pretty good, so I’ll post it below if you speak Spanish so you can compare them. Keep in mind that it might not be as good because the original poem was written in English)

El sol brilla, 
con una sonrisa en su cielo azul,
brilla en la hierba, 
brilla en una sonriente yo, 
pero brilla mucho en un puente, 

El puente roto de los sueños, 
no el puente de los sueños rotos, 

Un puente importante es, 
pero para ser cruzado, 
debo cortar un árbol, 
un árbol firme, 
y arreglar ese puente, 
arreglar ese puente,
y perderme en él.

Desire vs. Ability

So close yet so far,
Determined, Perseverant,
But never confident, 
I walk to win a match, 
Desire vs. Ability, 
Ability will improve, 
if it’s a tie. 
Desire will never win, 
for for it to do, he must be able to. 
Desire has enough with a tie, however,
for the heart is watching and is happy enough,
seeing both of them win, after all the failures. 

Yet the heart cannot withstand seing desire lose.