Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: silence

I wrote this poem in May of 2025.

I punish the men in my life with silence
I learned it from my mom
she’d last days without saying a word to my dad
after a fight
always waited until he broke down and apologized
she always needed to win
and while I’m not as brutal as her
I need to protect myself when a man makes me feel
like I’m not good enough, like I’m a monster
so I walk away calm and give a silence so deafening
they’re ask a million questions why
they’ll search answers in between the lines
of the posts I write
and if they’re smart enough and get the hint,
they’ll stay away from me

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: the hunger games

I wrote this poem in May of 2025.

it’s the hunger games time again
I meant the MET Gala
where celebrities show off their ostentatious
and grotesque expensive outfits
while the majority of us are trying
to make sure all of the bills are paid,
wondering if we do indeed deserve our weekly treat
at starbucks, while some of us are being deported
to countries we don’t belong to
or that we don’t remember for the sole crime
of being brown and having the right documents

it’s the hunger games time again
oh I meant the MET Gala
and of course we’re shocked Sabrina
didn’t wear pants and that Rihanna is pregnant again
even though half a world away in Gaza,
moms are burying their children,
that’s if they’re lucky to find them under the rubble
and the Good Ole USA is on it’s way
to becoming a Nazi state and half of us
are in a cult devoted to Trump while the other half
are struggling and unsure of where
to look for comfort, for reprieve from all
of the fires burning

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: some storms

I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

some storms are worth the rainbows that come after them
like the first steps taken after an invasive and life changing surgery
like the victory dinner after the termination of a marriage
that never should have happened
like the first drive alone after beating a 15 year driving phobia
like the child graduating at the top 10 percent of his class
even though the odds were stacked against him
like the rainbow child born after enduring the nightmare
of losing one
like still being here and writing a poem about storms and rainbows
even though many times you’ve been tempted by thanatos whispers to end it
some storms are worth the rainbows that come after them
because rainbows are hope, magic, and joy that make a life worth living

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poetry: That Last Text

I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

The first and last time I tried to die
I tried to get everything right
I wrote letters to my loved ones
and swallow each pill one by one
All that was easy enough
but really dying was tough
Something inside me was too stubborn
And sent one last text out to a friend
who alerted my husband
Between her and him, I never reached my end
but in that moment
I understood the suicidal writers and poets
Living is exhausting,living is agonizing
I yearned for the sweetness of death
to take away my mediocre breath
But the universe or God had other plans
And today I finally understand
Living is painful,living is terrible
But living is also beautiful
and really living is admirable

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: Horace and Betty

I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

horace and betty flaunt 77 years of matrimony on the front page of the local newspaper
and I’m both awestruck and jealous at their achievement
because I couldn’t even get past year 11 of my marriage
because now I can’t even get past a talking stage on any of the dating apps
because I can’t imagine the kind of saintly patience, understanding and loyalty
required for that kind of commitment

horace and betty flaunt 77 years of matrimony on the front page of the local newspaper
and I wonder the fuck they did it
what was the magic key to unlock both their doors to a lifetime of shared love,respect
and vulnerability

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: hinge part 1

I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

johnny didn’t make the cut

Downloaded hinge to become unhinged
the fountain of inspiration was waning
and I needed a dose of new character energy
even if some of those characters are icky and shady
even if some of those characters annoy me
I can’t keep writing about the same old repetitive stories
reheating old trauma for the purpose of making art
after a while, it gets exhausting
after a while, it makes no sense since I’ve forgiven them all
and honestly, I can’t do another 4 years of Trump
Celibate and devoid of any romantic energy

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: gateway

I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

so dumb and poetic

mami didn’t know the door she opened when she gave me Becquer”s Rhyme XXX
thought I would just take solace in the spanish poets words about heartbreak and move on
mami had no idea how that poem was a gateway to inspiration for me to write my first poem at 15
and keep writing them 30 years later

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Faith

I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

I find hope in nature

Faith found me one day
and told me to keep going when I didn’t want to
Faith made me believe in GOD when I wanted to fall
into the abyss of depression
Faith held me as I cried endless tears of my about
my latest life’s catastrophe
Faith loved me when I couldn’t love myself
Faith brought me people who believed in me
When I couldn’t believe in myself
Faith decided to one day bring it’s accomplice
HOPE

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: I blame Mami

I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

I blame my ADD, Mami and hypersensitivity for my poetic tendencies
I never had the attention span or time to learn to play an instrument or paint
instead at 15, I learned to write poems out of the shards in my heart left
from a breakup after reading Becquer, and ever since then
It’s been an ongoing love affair with poetry
one that is a refuge from the outside world, one that has been therapeutic
when I felt the sky fall on me many times
and while on most days I still suffer from imposter syndrome
and don’t consider myself a real poet
I don’t and won’t ever let that deter me from processing
the wonderful, terrible, and crazy things in my life through poetry