Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: letting go

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

the day that inspired this poem

within a span of a few minutes, I became my dad and my son became me
he rolls his eyes at me as I give him practical advice on buying a car
is this place reputable?
think of the interest rate
how many miles are on it?
He loses his patience and accuses me of hovering over him
and for the first time I feel empathy and compassion for my dad
Understanding that this parenting gig isn’t easy
and no matter how grown your kids are
It’s hard to let them go and live life according to their own terms

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: back to business as usual

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

scene from beauty and beast

soon we’ll be back to business as usual
obsessing over taylor and travis
clicking on clickbait about ben and jen
finding another celebrity to cancel
over some politically incorrect crime
of their past
soon we’ll go back to business to usual
as mothers still mourn their children
over another violent tragery
that never should have happened
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
as my son and his friends are hypervigilant
over anything suspicious
at 13, this world has taken away their innocence
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
as we go back to our stupid jobs
whether that’s a 9 to 5 office setting
or back breaking labor
as if evil didn’t happen at our community’s door
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
and I’ll write another poem about unrequited love
or the ex I dreamt about last night
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
except this time I’ll carry a when and where
in back of my mind
waiting for it to happen again

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: epidemic

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

me right after I wrote this poem

this time it hits too close to home
this time it feels like a matter of when
in America my children learn run, duck, and cover
before learning to spell the word “Gun”
but this is the deck of cards dealt to all of parents
living in America
safety in schools is an illusion long gone
since the days of Columbine
but with each massacre we all break a little more
and our anxiety skyrockets even more
the closer this epidemic gets to us
this time I’ll hug my teenager as tightly as possible
when he gets home, even as he rolls his eyes at me
and says, “ew”this time I allow my fury and rage
at this continued senseless violence to pour out of me
and on paper
collective and personal grief covers me
accepting once again, no matter what I do
or how hard I try or how much I love my child
I can’t shelter him, I can’t protect him
from the epidemic of violence in this country

Posted on by pattytacuri

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 · 1 Comment

poetry: American dream

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

part of my american dream

to see my american dream I just need to step into my backyard
and look at my holy trinity who call me mom
they’re the ones I try to better myself for
they’re the one who make my immigrant existence
worth living for
they’re my american dream wrapped up in burps, dark humor
and love

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: motherhood

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

me with my youngest son

there are days I don’t feel strong enough to be their mom
maybe it’s insecurity that weighs heavily on me
after every fight, after every conflict
it was easier when they were small
and I was their favorite person
the one they ran to the moment I opened the door
nowadays I work much and they have their own interests
to have much to do with me
nowadays they bring up grievances of everything
I’ve done and am doing wrong
is this karma for being a bad daughter to my mom
is this karma for being selfish and self absorbed
for a few years of their lives
Who knows-
maybe it’s not about being strong, being right,
or being respected
maybe it’s about them knowing they are loved

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Mother of Three

Me and my youngest at 13

Mother of three

What does that even mean?

Responsibilities, obligations, duties

Alcohol and going out are taboo for me

Songs of sacrifices and martyrdom

Are the tunes I hum

Dinner with friends and

concerts are just WRONG!

Soccer games and play dates

Are my important dates

No time to spend 

With my lifetime mates?

Mother of three,

Will I ever be free?

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Unsurvivable

Unsurvivable

I wanted you but
God wanted you more
Perhaps you were an angel
not meant for earth
Perhaps you were a hard a lesson
in grief and loss
That I needed to learn
A lesson that I should never take
love and hope for grant
No matter how brief the stay is
A lesson that your heart
can break within a span
of a few minutes
A lesson in surviving
what you think is unsurvivable

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: not promised tomorrow

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

just me and my entire universe

we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must make the best of our todays-
making community with our friends, reconnecting with our roots
loving our children with a loud fervor
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must appreciate
everything we have
the legs that take us on walks and runs
the creativity that flows from our minds
the laughter shared with loved ones

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: tradition not kept

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

me with my oldest in August of 2023

Children should be seen, and not heard is one tradition I’ll never keep
It would mean invalidating my children’s feelings
It would mean for them to have years of therapy trying to find their sense of identity
It would mean to reduce them to shadows who only speak when spoken to
It would mean passing them the torch of a generational curse that makes them question their self-worth over and over again
So everyone can judge me or criticize my parenting all they want
I like my children to not just be seen but also heard
even if it’s sometimes loud and boisterous
even if it sometimes sounds disrespectful
It’s important for their emotional growth, for their confidence
and to break and heal the generational curse where children are silenced

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: Children pay attention

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

me and my boys-one of the major reasons I’m determined to be the strongest and most empowered woman in their lives

Our children pay attention to the stories we tell ourselves
I noticed when my son’s heart broke for the first time
and it awakened a deep catharsis within me
I would no longer hold onto my victim story
the one where I tell myself,
“I’m worthless, I’m not good enough, I’m unlovable”
Instead I’ll walk with confidence and all of the self love
I can muster up for myself
maybe just maybe if I can model this type of healthy behavior
the cycle of generational self loathing and self destruction
will finally be broken
And my children has a chance of living a life
filled with more joy and contentment
than mental illness