The confession

What’s the catch? –you asked   
Tell me your secrets 

Twenty nine thoughts blinked ’round my head 

     I laugh at myself when can’t stop crying
     Sometimes   I cry while laughing
       There are dreams in my reality

     A page in my old diary has not a single truth
     No one knows all my secrets
                     –not even I

     Monotony is usually an unwelcome imposition
     I threw a book to the garbage in 1997
                     –could not finish reading it

     My alarm is set to a prime number
     I have a yellow blouse
                     –worn it once in 2007

     Four black candles live undercover with me
                     –since college
     Black is my colour but it is not

     I prefer strangers over stalkers
     I hid the other day
                     –under a peruvian cover

     I lost a silver earring last month
                     –while skiing
                     –felt like crying

     A new moon reminds me of my grandmother
     When I wish upon a star
                     –I pretend I did not

     There is reality in my odd dreams

     I have migraine twice a month

     I hid two secrets in a poem
          & a confession in a song

     You will never know that

Tell me your secrets

Voiceless      I shared
               a smile with a secret

               disguised an answer under a question mark
You did the talking




_____Adriana Citlali
XI-III-MMXV




Poetic Confessions | dVerse

Pervasive fireplace

  
You are all fired up   
sending flames of distress instead of cozy warmness   

I question you   
Why not colour this night with dancing sparkles?
Why not share your radiant warmness?
Why not show a smoky smile?

You answer in ardent movements
consuming news in abrasive outbursts
flaming this world’s blood reality
No more reminders of hunger
No more reading material
No more war photos
No empty tears
No deception

Your highly exothermic reaction
stops me from approaching you

    Your explosion shakes me

Ignited red paper articles transmute into grey ash

Maybe you are right
We should all flame those words
SHOUT  at   passive acceptance
Question the deaths
the distress
the power
humanity




_____Adriana Citlali
XIX-XI-MMXIV

NOTE: Tomorrow, 20th November 2014, we officially celebrate the 104th anniversary of the Mexican Revolution. Today it is difficult to argue that the country is in a position to have any celebration. I do not advocate violence, and do not propose to use it either. However, I do advocate a reaction, to not accept this reality, to fight for human rights, for security, for a stop of violence, a human humanity, peace.

I cannot say that I have been active enough… A poem can be a start.

Today’s fired-up poem got surprisingly inspired by a random choice of an adjective and a noun (pervasive fireplace) after Marina Sofia’s prompt at Poetics: Make the Abstract Concrete… | dVerse.

Colourful freshness: life food

Today at the dVerse | Poets Pub, Abhra asked two interesting questions:
1) Do you feel that your food, in some way or other, defines you?
2) can we use food as metaphor?
Read more at Poetics : Food for thought.



Colourful freshness: life food

I stare at your half emptiness, open the drawer, check the veggies.
Soup? –I ask while I wonder if I should close your door, while I think about the inspiration of the day (leaked coolness equals energy wasted, more entropy, more pollution) —
  Is there any cheese?
Corn tortillas?      Did I finish the olives? Where’s the humus?
How long has it been since I ate red meat?
Shall I go shopping?       Shall I dine out?

I close the door, drink some water. Walk a bit.
    Hmmm! Maybe just a simple salad   and refried beens or soup on the side…
Just salad… or …   Guacamole and salmon!

The door opens:

Creamy avocado greenness,
jalapeño spice, and cilantro balance.
Colourful freshness with a strong hint of lime.
Exploding red tomatoes finely mixed with onion and salt.
Fresh juicy salmon simply touched by wasabi and soya sauce.

My palate tastes:

Mexico finds me in Norway!
Entropy is rearranged in fractal order.
Warmness and heat sparkle vivaciously at contact.
Colourful freshness shines in a northern, November sky!

What a day!




_____Adriana Citlali
XI-XI-MMXIV



¡Feliz cumpleaños Carlos Fuentes!
Happy birthday Kurt Vonnegut!



On trueness and reality


 
Claudia:    How real do you get in your poetry?  

I craft poems as a reflection of my instantaneous reality  

My poetry evolves with feelings evoked by old memories 
                                         mixed with recent experience
                                         sparkled with salty tears
                                                       or  fugitive     laughs

Anell:      How true is it?

Some poems are so true      they hurt
Some are transparent with a secret
                 accurate through an image
                 obvious just to some

You:      Can a metaphor be true?

Like the sweetness of salted chocolate!

Amelia:    Can a dream become a poem? Are dreams always true?

… just always real




_____Adriana Citlali
XXVI-V-MMXIV

Inspired by today’s Pubtalk– How real do you get in your poetry? | dVerse .

 

On writing a poem

You: How do you write a poem without knowing what to say?          

I start by attempting that impossible silence in my head    
while your question bounces with varying emphasis     
filling in that luxurious void so hard to come by    

The bounces start changing frequency    
sometimes they go into resonance    
sometimes they touch chaos    

Their fractals get confused and mutate into new words    
sounds under my hair that do not always make sense    

Then comes the conscious mind    
trying to understand the patterns in those sounds    
Out comes a verse stamped onto the white screen    
–white paper     occasionally    

A verse follows a verse
       asynchronously
like those bounces with a question mark
A stanza is formed        somehow  
followed by a second, third, sometimes a fourth one    
That silly conscious self comes back and deletes half of the words  

The tempo changes  
a short silence feels my spirit  

Some verses exchange places    
 some   get distorted  
others transmute into a butterfly or a frog   

An even shorter
                  silence 

Followed by dismissal of more words 

A thorough read 

More chaos 

Bliss: 

A poem has been written! 




_____Adriana Citlali
XXVII-XI-MMXIII


 

It’s open link night again, my poet friends. Join us at Week 124 | dVerse.