Poesý 2014 presents Bernice Sosa’s for real this time

Here’s a second from Bernice, a powerful poem. image

for real this time

like keyboards replacing pens
screens replace lined canvas
now decorated in vibrant hues of positive vibes, anticipations and barriers broken
no longer smeared by random thoughts, heartbreaks and unfulfilled dreams.
the new organized chaos.
scattered visions float like unpieced puzzles
reuniting magnetically
authentic God sent reverie.
the forces have aligned,
spirit has been revived, eagerly anticipating the next trail
she’ll tag with syllabic tongue prints
agonizingly contorting minds 
making them wish they were double-jointed.
no longer suffocated by the panic
she’s modified her manipulation of thought.
they can’t get you if it really don’t faze you,
impenetrable barricade
negated conquest not no matter how hard they try.
no longer necessary to look to the sky for approval and acceptance
as it now lives in her, on her, through her.
she has been humbled, once again,
by HIS welcoming arms opened as wide as the first time she sought HIM
17 years back.
she’s reminded that HIS gift is food for the soul to be digested and absorbed
not wasting on her as it has been for way too long.
finally returning to the connection of her soul’s roots
with Zen-like serenity
naturally high
she writes sans a puff, sans a swig
soul in spread eagle vulnerable beyond cognition
never felt so good,
so powerful,
so secure.

All rights reserved by Bernice Sosa

Poesý 2014 presents Bernice Sosa’ Consejos Divinos

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Photo by Sandra Guzmán

Bernice Sosa is a Nuyorican writer, educator, linguist and mother of two. She has contributed work in the past to Poesý 2010 and Poesý 2012, Pa’lante Latino and Letras II (an online literary publication at NY Hunter College’s Center for Puerto Rican Studies), and the first virtual and live stream coverage of the National Puerto Rican Day Parade 2014 .  She has also had the opportunity to share her words at the legendary Nuyorican Poet’s Café, Capicu Poetry and Cultural Showcase in Brooklyn, NY and the First Annual New York Poetry Festival (NYPF). Sosa is currently on hiatus from online publishing and is working on her first book.

Here is her poem for our Fantasy Theme, enjoy.

Consejos Divino

¿Quienes son ustedes?
Por un buen rato, han perdido la fe.
Hija de Dios,
empezaron a creer que nunca nos iba a regresar.
He tenido que luchar más fuerte por ti.

Disculpe, es que mi vida…
Pero ya el no está, y tu lista para escuchar.
Te he dado por respetar, por más que te haya costado.
Miedo, vergüenza, secretos derretidos.
La libertad cura almas heridas.

Tu equipo celestial te guarda
Sigue recibiendo nuestros besitos de mariposa:
estampas de amor lloviendo
en huellas alumbradas
colocada en tu rostro
silenciosamente, mientras suenas.
Alma consiente, alma despierta.

…gracias a todos.
Ya no te encuentres arrodillada en el suelo
en posición de vientre, gritando ” ¿Por qué “,
tras ríos de llanto
buscando relleno para tu supuesta vacío.

Ya no te encaracole
muda, con agonía.
Ni paralizada, destrozada con alma esclavizada.
Ahora alas sabio, obedientemente, esperan nuestra instrucción,
lista para navegar.

Dale y remonta el vuelo y brilla sin miedo, Mechita.

All rights reserved by Bernice Sosa

Poesý 2014 presents Rich Villar’s Headstones

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A second taste on Rich Villar’s poetry: “Headstones” is an elegy for my sister and the boys and girls that my family and I found buried alongside her, too young, at a cemetery in New Jersey in 2007.

Headstones

East Ridgelawn Cemetery
Passaic, New Jersey, April 2007.

Pop is reading headstones.  

Catechism rises in him
from somewhere long buried.

The litany of saints inside his cheek:

José Medina.
Jorge Antonio González. Marisol Vélez.

He stops and reads
one black slab adorned
with the Dominican flag.

Angel Luis Gutierrez.  1987-2006.

He says it out loud: nineteen.  

Something says to mark this.

His exhale is five hundred years.  

We came to mark the anniversary
of my sister’s death. Lillies, a white planter.
A tulip bulb. Ten smooth stones in a circle.
Now we stand on freshly turned earth, reciting
the names of boys and girls who should be home,

home. Right now, tasting soup,eyes closing at the sudden sun,
or remembering last night’s kissed lips,
running and not running, making a mess.

Three grandchildren make noise in the cemetery.
We leave stones to mark our presence.
A groundskeeper waits to clear them away.

All rights reserved by Rich Villar

from inspiration to the written word / de la Inspiración a la Palabra escrita

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