Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: gracias a ti

este poema lo escribí en el 2004 acerca de John. estaba bien amarga.

Alguna vez pensé
que tú podrías ser el hombre para mi
Pero eso se dio a perder
El día que tú me dijiste
Que no soy y nunca sería
Alguien especial para ti
Y llore y llore y llore
¿Por qué no me quisiste?
¿Por qué no me diste una oportunidad?
Para que puedas probar mi amor incondicional
pero ya no hay marcha atrás
Algún día te arrepentirás
Porque aunque tu desprecio
Me causó una gran desilusión
y no sabía qué hacer con tanto dolor
Tú hiciste lo mejor para mi
Porque gracias a ti
aprendí a sobrevivir

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: saint tracey

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me with my oldest in 1998

saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over
she showed me love and compassion
when everyone else shunned me
she accepted me for who I was
and encouraged me to follow the path of success
she saw the hidden potential in me
when other teachers saw laziness
she was a prayer from God
sent to me to remind me
my mistakes don’t define me
and that I was still worthy of the love
and goodness in the world

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: target

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

Family life in the 80s
Family life in the 80s

my aunt treated us like we were inferior and subhuman
constantly pointing out our flaws with subtle sarcasm
putting pressure on my mom to choose her over us
insulting my father or sister
what about us made her project her insecurities
Was it my dad’s intelligence or my sister’s beauty?
or maybe she really hated my mom for having everything she didn’t have
a loving and doting husband
and all healthy children
What made us a target for my aunt’s abuse?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: fingiré

here is the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Our Spot

tus palabras me queman hasta que soy nada
fui otra aventura más, otro tiempo divertido
para alguien buscando huir de su monotonía
no hay nada más que decir o hacer
fingiré estar feliz qué decidiste regresar con ella
mientras me hundo en un ciclo de autodestrucción y remordimientos

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: first grade

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me in 1987 in first grade

in first grade, I learned to be ashamed and embarrassed of who I was,
and where I came from
maybe the nuns were ignorant of the damage they were doing
and since that time I’ve had identity issues
for years, i gave up my language and my heritage in order to fit in-
to have proximity to being an American
but all it did was fuck up my identity
and while I have forgiven the nuns for the damage done
I have a hard time finding compassion for myself
I have a hard time letting go the guilt
For the pain I caused my family
I have a hard time understanding I was just a kid
desperately trying to fit in, to belong, to be accepted
to conform of the standards of being American society fed me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: integration

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

ready to get to integration


The scared and anxious little girl and the insecure and clingy woman tug at me-
I try to avoid them and lock them up in a box, but it never happens that way
They refuse to go away when a trigger of trauma visits me
And once again, I am lost in the alter ego I made up to protect myself
the one who shows up in confidence and screams through her poetry
but if I want to reach integration
I need to allow the little girl and the insecure woman space to reside within me
and honor them with powerful words of praise
because they, too, were part of my strength and resilience through the many traumas
It may feel painful at times-but for me to get to become a whole person
and reach emotional maturity – I need to walk hand in hand with the ones
who made me the powerful and confident woman I currently am

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: quien soy

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Last Week

no se quien soy-esa es mi verdad
todos tienen sus opiniones acerca de quién soy
o quien debo ser
Madres, hija, trabajadora, estudiante, hermana y novia
son los papeles asignaron a mi-
pero me siento una impostora, una fracasada en todos esos roles
y sin saber quien soy debajo de las capas de estas identidades forzadas
sobre mi persona-
quien soy, quien soy, quien soy

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poesía: el accidente

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Lost

Perdida en frustracion y desesperacion, no se que voy a hacer-
Por fin, estaba tomando pasos para un futuro mejor
pero de nuevo me encuentro con otro obstáculo por mi culpa
porque qué diablos no mire bien antes de salir en la calle
y en un santo amén perdi mi independencia

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: time

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

I’m ready to claim my success

“This is your time” the moon goddess whispers to me in a dream
she puts her hand on my shoulder and a jolt of magic spread throughout my body
I stumble and almost fall-
but catch myself in time to stand up-and feel my power rise within
I am invincible, I am empowered, I am ready to fulfill my potential
and claim my success

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: no se como

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Dear Son

Quiero lo mejor para ti-porque te lo mereces,
porque tu no pediste ser parte de este mundo
pero la sigo regando con mis decisiones impulsivas
con mis estupideces
y no se como voy a salir de esta última atrocidad cometida
que afectará el futuro de los dos

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: mentira tóxica

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: False Fairy Tale

todos creen en nuestra obra de teatro
tienen la impresión que vivimos un cuento de hadas
si solo supieran como me insultas detrás de las puertas cerradas
o como mi almohada se moja con mis lagrimas por tu desprecio
estarían con sus bocas abiertas por la mentira tóxica
que vivimos cada dia

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: you won’t win

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

I’ll still joke while I’m miserable-I’m a whole different kind of vibe

When I start to lose myself, death calls out to me
like a potential lover
it whispers my name and invades my thoughts
it shows me the many ways to chase it
Drive as fast as you can and lose control(no one has to know)
Accidentally take too many of your prescription meds
(they’ll say you weren’t feeling well that day)
or go for a dramatic effect and cut your wrists
with your razor from work
(oops you mistook your skin for a box)
Death tries to tempt me in many ways
and I count to 10 and scream
this time you won’t win

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: en un santo amén

here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry: Puppet

me tenías como un titere siempre arrastrándome
de acuerdo a lo que tu querías, a lo que tu necesitabas
nunca preguntándome o pensando en lo que necesitaba
y aun así en un santo amén cortaste nuestro cuento de amor
porque aunque yo deje que me me jales a tu antojo
todavía no fui suficiente para ti y perdiste interés en mi