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Poetry: My Bad Luck

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

People say I shouldn’t give up on love
and it’s really just my bad luck
But how do I explain
How love makes me insane
It’s not the men I pick
It’s really me, me, me
I’ll become the version they want me to be
thinking they’ll stay with me-
behave, swallow my words, hide my anger,
implode on myself in the privacy of my journal
but keep my mask of sweet princess on-
but this never last for long
something always happens
it’s just a matter of when
when will I get tired of hiding who I am
and start being erratic and crazy
When will they get tired of my bullshit
and decided to leave
and almost always, this ends up
as an emotional catastrophe for me
so I’ve come up with a solution
I’m going to make my newfound solitude
a haven, a sanctuary to fall into
give myself as much time as I need
to enjoy the gift on my own company
understanding that this isn’t an ending
but rather a brand new beginning for me
to write and edit my own unconventional love story

Posted on by elizadalton · 3 Comments

December Poetry Challenge: 2022

This was my response to prompt #26 : How has your life changed in the past year

it’s been one of the best years of my life

2022 blessed me with more joy and growth than I could have dreamed of
I changed my narrative from a woman full of anger and resentment
to a woman full of contentment and an appreciation for everything
Unexpected and pleasant surprises filled up my year
swimming for the first time to Taylor Swift
music concerts that brought on catharsis
a spontaneous trip to my homeland where I found a stable sense of identity
and my accidental bangs in that beauty salon in Lima
I also learned to place my solitude as a priority for my recovery journey
It was the year when I stopped chasing love and unabashedly started
chasing my dreams, conquering my fears, and learning to love
the woman in the mirror
It’s been one of the best fucking years of my life
when I finally learned the meaning of gratitude and healthy love

Posted on by elizadalton · 3 Comments

Poetry: Writer Identidad

I wrote this in 2008 in my creative writing class. I actually hated that class because I didn’t fit in. It’s a long story for a blog post at a later time.

 

I don’t want to be
a style ,a genre
a multicultural read
with scattered Spanish
in my text
that is interpreted
as Chica or Latina lit
-NO!-
I refuse to be a mere category
Or a trend or a fad
When there is a much bigger message
Than the stereotypes
people want to imply

 

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: The Modern Southern Woman

I wrote this in 2016.

me in 2016 when I wrote this poem

Faulkner wrote about her ancestors
She stood like a pillar of strength between her mother and daughter
She stood strong as both of them held her arms that were their life jackets
as they drowned in endless sorrows
Tears silently fell from her face as her father laid in his closed home
And the reverend went on about him being in a better place
And her strength did not falter,
She let her loved ones hold on tight while she tried to blink away tears ,
She swallowed her pain and absorbed the pain from those around her
She wasn’t just strong for her mother and daughter,
but she was a goddess of strength among the mere mortals
around her that wept

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: A Song to My Lover

I wrote this in 2015 inspired by a situation I was going through.

me around the time I wrote this poem

A Song to My Lover

Songs are written about people like us
Good songs and bad songs,
r&b songs, pop songs,
and of course country songs
Songs that try to capture
the complexity of infidelity
Most of them try to capture the guilt
and the grief
Some of them capture the romantic notion
Of secret meetings, stolen kisses
And the excitement
But there doesn’t seem to be
A particular song for us…
Could a song really capture something
so profound and beautiful ?
Something tainted by the reality
of our situation
Being with my husband is a commitment
I made
It’s an everyday task, not for the faint of heart
Being with you is easy
It’s refreshing not having to try so hard to make
sweet reality work
It’s amazing that you know what to do
to make me feel wanted
And my poor husband still hasn’t got a clue
It’s refreshing that when you are with me,
You see a person, a lover
and not just a wife and mother
These are things neve appear in songs
because our truth is an alternate universe
of the complexities of finding contentment
from someone else at the wrong time

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: The Wound

I wrote this in 2008.

I never came back the same

The Wound

It’s a wound that never closes
No matter how many years
are spent trying to close it

To taste the pure heaven that is you
and have it swept
from under me in a sudden swoop
made the everlasting wound

I looked everywhere
for somebody to help me close it
But no matter how hard
they tried, the wound
wouldn’t come close to closing

I finally met someone who lessened the pain
of the wound
with his gentle and understanding nature
But even after 6 years as his patient
the wound remains open

 

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Poetry: Waiting

This another poem inspired about the great breakup of 2001. I probably wrote this when it first happened. My sense of reality is shook up after a break up and it feels like a never ending nightmare that I’ll never wake up from after it happens. This doesn’t happen with every break up…just the ones that really affect me.

Waiting 

So I wait for the phone to ring
To hear you say
this loneliness has all been a horrible dream
So I wait for you to show up at my door
To tell me you can’t stand being away from me no more
So I wait for your love letter in my mailbox
To begin getting back together

Posted on by elizadalton · 1 Comment

Poetry: Young and Dumb

I wrote this in 2006 when I was remember the days of my youth.

always remember that…

Young and Dumb 

My mind tries to fight
What my heart wants to write
About being young and dumb
You’d think I’ve moved on
But it doesn’t happen
And my paper is dampened
With words about being sixteen
And doing many sinful things
Getting drunk and hooking up
Was my beginner’s luck
But I still had plenty of luck
Being young and so dumb
My pen and paper will have to settle
For not knowing any better

Pattyat16
Me circa 1997, at 16. 

 

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Poetry: A Poem for My Third Born

A Poem for My Third Born

You were the rainbow
That came after the most dreadful storm
You were wanted, you were planned
You were loved
You were everything
Anxiously, I waited for your arrival
Counting down the months, the weeks,
And eventually the days
Cautiously, I felt hope
With every flutter,
And every kick
You were a ninja
Determined to reassure
This worried mama that
You were okay-
And I glowed bright
From your inner light
And finally
The day came
I would get to meet
My newest love made creature
And with your birth
Life finally felt complete

My Youngest Son Circa 2012

IMG_1190

My son is 11 Me and my youngest on 6/26/22