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

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poetry: two miguels

I wrote this poem in February of 2021.

my grandfather and son got that Miguel rizz

One was born in the beginning of the 20th century
the other was born in the beginning of the 21st century
one was born out of unplanned wedlock
one was a planned product of his parent’s love
one was taught hatred for blacks and cholos
the other was taught blacks lives matter and equality for everyone
one had misogynistic tendencies thanks to his machismo culture
the other other is that gender roles and conventions are a joke
One went through the Spanish flu times
the other is going through Covid times
both shares similar genes generations apart
both share the same Spanish name
one could not been possible without the other

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: i got it right

I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

I got it right with this kid

To raise my children with empathy and respect for humanity
is hard in times like these
in times when everyone is selfish and individuality is praised
In times when showing emotions is seen as week
and there is still a stigma about seeking therapy
but somehow, my firstborn got the message
that money and selfishness are not everything
and that finding empathy and compassion for his fellow humans
is much more valuable than the idea of individualism and materialism
society tries to sell him

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poetry: fighting with my teenage son

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

me and my teenage son when he was toddler

Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
I’ve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
I’ve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know we’re both on borrowed time
and I don’t want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Spark

2012/2023 -Don’t let the world dim your spark kiddo

I wish I could live forever in this bliss
a bliss where you’re still innocent
a bliss where I keep you sheltered from this savage world
but you’re growing up fast and I can’t keep you my little boy forever
and the inevitable first heartbreaks and disappointments
will happen-
and while I’ll always be there to catch you after,
and remind you of my mother’s love
I also hope and pray to God
you’re strong enough, you’re resilient enough, you’re brave enough
to face whatever challenge and obstacle comes your way
and I hope you’re full of compassion and kindness
and don’t allow the cruelty of the world
to ever dim your spark

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poem: They Said

I wrote this about my oldest son after a very proud mom moment. I thought about everything he went through and processed it through this poem.

me and my oldest son around the time I wrote this poem

I didn’t think this day

Would come so soon

I wasn’t prepared for the

Emotions I would feel

“You were doomed to 

Be another  “statistic” 

They said 

And autism on top of that!

Good luck

Becoming a productive 

Member of society 

They said 

“No way, will you succeed 

brown autistic boy,

Son of a teenage mom”

They said

Yet here you are –

Proving the naysayers wrong

Here is where you belong 

Not yet graduated from 

High school but starting 

Your first college classes

Tonight

Here is where you belong 

Despite the obstacles,

The haters, society

Trying to fuck you over

Here is where you belong

-on the start of a journey to success

And here I am 

Beaming with pride

And love for you

My beautiful brown boy

Defying everything and 

Everyone that ever 

Stood in your way.

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Poetry: My Pride and Joy

I wrote this poem in 2004 about my oldest son. Even though, I was 17 when I had him, I always tried to be the best mother for him. I worked to support him since I was 18, he was one of my biggest motivations for going to college, and even though I was extremely insecure as a young mom, I learned to advocate and fight for him to get the services and therapies he needed when he was diagnosed with autism.

me and my oldest in 2003

You’re a wonderful mistake

I never want to unmake

I was young and stupid

a kid having another kid

but with you I finally grew up

and learned the meaning of love

You are everything a mother could want

Such an admirable and fine son

you are my pride and joy

you will always be my little boy

And I will dread the day

When you have to go away

But I take relief in knowing

You’ll know how to spread your wings

And you will always remember

who you once were

A wonderful mistake

Your mom never wanted to unmake

Perhaps a creation of lust

but one who never lacked love

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Poetry: My Son Throws His Blocks

I wrote this poem in 2006 about my middle child who was toddler at a time. He’s actually my birthday twin and very much like me personality wise.

My Second son as a toddler

My son throws his blocks

They hit me like rocks

So much damn temper

Within my little fellow

Little does he know

About the bad people that sew

many, many spiderwebs

to put you under duress

and he throws and he throws

Like life’s unexpected woes

Those wooden things hit my head

he won’t listen to what I say

He sure has an arm 

for knowing how to harm

In this just a phase

in this life of a maze

Finally he stops and looks

It is another tantrum in the books

I think this is a preview 

to his ever changing mood

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Poetry: Don’t

I wrote this poem 2002 and it was yet another poem inspired by the bio dad of my oldest child. For many years. I had so much unresolved rage and anger about how he abandoned my son and used poetry as a way to process it.

Don’t even try to understand me

You don’t even know me

I was born with your DNA

But to you, I have nothing to say

I once was a babe, a boy

And now a man

Don’t pretend to give a damn

I’ve done grown up to become

A man unlike you that doesn’t run

No thanks to you “Dad” 

You left when I was a mere lad 

So please go on on your way

I can’t stand the sight of you

Another day