Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: happily divorced after

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

me and my son on my divorce anniversary

I never did get my happily ever after
but I did get my happily divorced after
and a year after it was all done
and signed by the judge
I feel gratitude for solitude
and breathe a sigh of relief
that I won’t settle ever again
for fear of being lonely
never again will I ever allow
Societal pressure to write my life’s
Narrative
and never again will I stay somewhere
Past the expiration date
because of fear or for the sake of appearances
I never did get my happily ever
but I did get my happily divorced after
and life feels joyous and glorious
and I am the most empowered version
of myself

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Ivy

9/30/2023

Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.

the ceilings of America are laced with poison ivy
every time I act out of the norm or forget to code switch
people tell me I’m too dramatic -ouch-
accused of being toxic and crazy-damn
and a rash of doubt takes over my mind
I’ll never fit it, no one will ever love or accept me
and I turn down who I am
but even that doesn’t work
it makes things worse
and I explode and project-
fuck you, you’re blocked
then I discover therapy -slowly I heal
accept the pieces of myself that will never fit in
exhibit myself in my most authentic form
and slowly the poison ivy becomes an ivy of love and growth
and I understand that to be happy
I need let go of normalcy
and embrace my unconventional and eccentric self

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poetry: brush your teeth

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

I tell my son I’m proud of you
and he’s like why, because I’m alive
I nervously laugh even though
my heart aches over what he said
Why does America like to play
Russian roulette with its children
Why can’t I have a normal conversation with
my kid over too much screen time
and reminding him to brush his teeth
instead of conversation over what
he should do in a mass shooting

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: under

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

me with one of my voices of reason

I feel left out by my friends and I cry and whine
“they hate me, I’m not good enough for them”
my voice of reason tells me
“it will be okay, you don’t need them”
it’s my sister

I break down in the middle of the sidewalk
and cry and scream
“I’m unworthy of love, I’ll be alone forever”
my voice of reason tells,
“that’s not true, you just need to focus on you boo”
It’s my son

my voice of reason has comforted me and loved me unconditionally
my voice of reason keeps me from going under

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Prodigal Daughter

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

this prodigal daughter got accidental bangs in Lima

the prodigal daughter returns to a homeland that she barely remembers
it’s been 32 years since she stepped foot on Peruvian soil
and this feeling is unworldly-indescribable-unimaginable
she was a child when she left
never quite understanding the whys or hows of her family’s immigration journey
in her adopted homeland, she suffered through hardships and failures
but the ancestors always protected her
from drowning in the immense waves of chaos and disasters, she ended up being tossed in
and she’ll go to their graves and pay reverence to them for shielding her from danger
the prodigal daughter returns, and she feels nostalgia rushing into her body and mind
she is finally where she belongs

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: summer storms

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

always a triunfadora

the storms this summer have been intense and scary
Some days I had to run for cover, other days I ended up
saturated in self hate
the storms this summer tried desperately to tear me apart
ruin my reputation
everyone watched me waiting for me to turn into
a trainwreck
but instead I do what I always do
rise out of the ashes most triumphantly

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: how do you do it?

Back in 2023

people wonder how I do it all
two jobs, three kids, the stream of poetry
and still finding time for friends
and honestly sometimes i don’t know
perhaps its because i’m crazy
and have the determination to live
to live the fullest life I have
even within the limits I have
maybe I don’t to waste a single minute
of regret wishing I could have done that
or this like I used to and now just do
I’m no longer a woman of mere words
I’m a woman of actions

8/28/23

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: pieces

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

given the role of cycle breaker

pieces of my abuela bleed into my mami which bleeds into me
and I’m the vessel of the generational trauma inherited
and given the role of cycle breaker
I go against societal norms and conventions
and I’m always the odd one out
always the one who never belongs, who never fits in
until I find sanctuary in poetry, friendships,
and my own creative community
and while the trauma inherited still lives in me
I find a purpose for it as i share abuela’s, mami’s, and my stories
through poetry and slowly those generational wounds
start to heal and turn into scars

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poetry: marionettes

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

AI Generated Liz Taylor

Mae West and Liz Taylor knew how to take up space in a man’s world
and that was the problem with them
it intimidated the fuck out of the men who worked with them,
who loved them
so they were ostracized, made to be cautionary tales
the minute they got out of line
so much beauty partnered with intelligence
made them a target in a patriarchal society
that like their women cute and mute
like the marionettes they can pull strings on

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poetry: 80s TV

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

ai generated Peg Bundy

jem, brenda walsh, peg bundy, and many more empowered women
made their way to my tv screen in the 80s
when I was an immigrant child living in poverty
these characters helped me understand women are complex
and not the meek and submissive beings
my culture and religion led me to believe
these characters made a strong impression on me as a young girl
I didn’t have to live the story of the mujer sufrida
or saintly martyr
I could just be me and that would be enough

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Poetry: experiment

What curse to be a lovergirl 😭

The experiment of life leaves me breathless with rage
Why keep trying love on over and over again
when it continually abandons me
It’s like a balloon
I’m filled up with joy and happiness
and then there’s life’s pin of reality
makes my balloon burst
and I’m reduced to nothingness until I find rage
to fuel me to move forward
it’s exhausting, it’s madness

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poetry: day of the dead

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestors
i’ll build a shrine with their pictures and letters to honor them
it’s the least I can do do the generational gifts passed down to me
this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestor
write down their stories and later on share them
remember that doing this heals something in me,
something in them

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: a year from now

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

I’m the magician

a year from now things will be radically different
I will not be stewing in my misery and making poetry out of it
instead I’ll be more empowered, more creative than ever
instead I’ll be wiser and stronger understanding
the rollercoaster of the storms of 2024 was needed
to inspire another cathartis, another catalyst for change
the universe had to humble me for a bit
to remind me of what’s really important
to assess how I’ve been living my life
and whether or not the many hours were worth killing myself over
a year from now this will be radically different
I’ll have a deeper knowledge, understanding and clarity
about what’s in alignment with me
life will be more balanced, more full of joy
and with an abundance of everything that inspires me
everything that brings purpose to my life

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poetry: model

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

my son wants to be a model and I worry about what this means for him
in my eyes I think he’s perfect the way he is
in one year he went from my cherub angel to a handsome lanky stranger
but he thinks he still needs a lot of work
so he goes on nightly runs until he’s breathless
lifts weights he borrows from his older brother
applies all kinds of lotions to try to get rid of little blemishes
He tells me, “I already have the perfect personality,
now I just need the perfect body and I nod in grief,
“already at 13, he feels that heaviness of the unrealistic standards
of beauty placed on him

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Labyrinth

the labyrinth of love made me lose who I was for a while
I used to base my sense of self on who loved me or who didn’t-
and thought I need a lover to feel whole
after every breakup, I had a breakdown
and it felt like an eternal labyrinth of despair
I couldn’t find my way out of
it was like the most complicated of Borges stories
caught in a complex maze of misunderstanding and intricacies
of my own mind
and for a while it felt like I’d never get out-
until faith shone a light on me
and it drove me out of the labyrinth of despair
and into a clear path of compassion and self love