Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Refusal

I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was pregnant with my second child and mad at my boyfriend (future husband) for his lack of affection and attention to me. I was obviously very upset when I wrote this poem and instead of talking to him I wrote and bottled up my anger.

You refuse to see

All the hurt you’re causing me

With your indifferent ways

It’s a miracle you haven’t yet gone astray

You refuse to see

Our son is paying the fee

He may still be in my belly

But the tears you cause me

Also affect him

You refuse to see

That one day soon you’ll lose me 

If you don’t stop 

Being so fucking cold. 

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Uncaring

I wrote this poem in 2004 about my husband, then boyfriend. I guess I was mad about his lack of affection. As you can see, this is a pattern for me. I bottle my emotions up until one day I explode.

If you don’t want any of this 

You should just leave 

I can’t take anymore 

Of your uncaring words

I don’t want to keep you from 

Having your fun

So just go away 

You only hurt me if you stay

Go back to the way you used to be

Alone, happy, and free

And take your precious independence

You prefer  it to our relationship nonsense

So stop acting like you care

To us, it wouldn’t be fair

Adieu, adios, and goodbye

To our enormous love lie

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Frigid

I wrote this in 2004 about my husband who I thought was being distant at the time. As you can guess, I don’t deal with rejection well at all and this is one example of many of how my mind deals with it.

Your frigid ways turn me into nothing

I don’t ask for much 

but to you I ask for the world

I try so hard to make something 

Out of the nothing 

That has become us…

But all of it is meaningless to you

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Poetry: Poor and Destitute

I wrote this in 2004 inspired by a rough family situation I was going through at the time. I needed to process what was happening in some way because I couldn’t confront the person. And well, I wrote this narrative poem.

Poor and destitute

in front of me she stood

asking for shelter and food

with tears streaming down her cheek

she kept on repeating

“let me stay with you tonight,

I promise, one day I’ll make things right”

I didn’t know what to do

for a while I just stood

trying to decide

if what I was about to do was right

so with pain in my heart

I had to say

“please go away”

she tried to resist

by giving me a guilt trip

and I  told her once again

“please go away”

she still wouldn’t listen 

and made me listen to her reasons

this time I lost control 

and yelled at her to

“PLEASE GO AWAY

IF YOU DON’T WANT ME 

TO GO CRAZY”

this time she listened to me

maybe she does care for me

it hurt to turn her away

but I couldn’t be swayed

to feel sorry for her

and allow her

to ruin my world

so in the end

this was the dreadful when

I would have to decide 

between saving her or me 

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Oil and Greed

I wrote this poem in 2004 about the War on Terror. I had quite a few friends in the military do tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. My son’s bio dad did 3 tours himself. It affected him greatly like it did other veterans I know.

Nothing is said. 

Only tears are shed.

Over broken hearts

   and lost dreams

   and the disillusionment

    of it all.

We once had faith

    that they would be okay,

   and not face

such a deadly fate. 

We once had much hope

  that our loved ones,

   would one day come back to us,

We never once dreamed 

   that it would destroy ,

  the most sacred thing;

  the innocence of our 

  children

How does one explain to them,

  that their parents died in 

   a war about oil and greed.

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Poesia: Solo y Agotado

Escribí este poema narrativo en 2002. Temas que tienen que ver con inmigración están cerca de mi corazón porque soy inmigrante. Inmigrantes indocumentados son explotados y muchas son invisibles en la sociedad.

Solo y agotado

El se sentó

En el  banco viejo

Esperando por su bus

Para irse a su case

Con el poco dinero

Ganado ese mismo dia

Pero el no sabia 

Que unos malvivientes 

Le estaban siguiendo sus pasos

Que tenían otro plan para ese día.  

Y sin darse cuenta 

Lo acuchillaron de atrás

Y el quedo botado

 Sangrando de sus graves heridas 

Al siguiente dia 

La gente diría 

Que su muerte no importaría

Fue lo mejor que podía pasar

Un mojado menos

De qué preocuparnos

Pobre señor,

Hasta este dia

Su familia no sabe que paso

Pobre señor

Todo por ser hispano and indocumentado 

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Poetry:Childhood Lies

I wrote this in 2003 reflecting on the immigration of me and my family. The first six year we were in the United States was a nightmare. I’m not sure how much I will share of my immigration story because of all the trauma involved.

Cuzco, Peru -Christmas of “85, I’m the one in the pigtails

I was five at the time
when my parents lied
they said it was going to be great
our brand new fate
we were going away
so we could be safe
we weren’t exactly prepared for
the horrors we would endure
the hardships and struggles
the wonder of it all
why did they persuade us
in them we lost our trust
now we’ll never again believe
what they want us to see

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: So Many Things

I wrote this in March of 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about Lucas.

So many things left unsaid 

the day you decided to get away

So much left undone 

Because I was no longer fun

So many tears I had cried 

Asking myself a thousand whys?

Why did you leave?

I thought we were a perfect fit.

What was wrong with us?

That made you leave in a rush

Why did you break my heart?

by pulling us apart

And why didn’t you love me so?

It’s excruciating to let you go