April the Cruelest Month - Senryū and Cinquains

creative commons license 

for an understanding of men who have no clue about women

the April days move | slow in snow wanting to be | rain blessing the ground

she cries about corn | how now it's being monsterized | how it is her flesh

wears more 

than protective

vest, she wears a tough flesh

overcoat. Not bullet proof, no.

it serves

keeps men

away, you know

the kind that prey, and stalk

women slight of stature, or off

balance

wearing

stand 'em up shoes

those kind that make you lose.

ones that say come fuck me ~ pumps so

untrue

the coat's

gotten too long

she wants to give it up

donate it to Goodwill ~ it's ov-

er kill

when men's

eyes turn to her 

they slide over the hill

her latest disguise is close to 

salty

couldn't hug her | enough to leave her there | sun child in the land of snow

she thinks

his mouth on hers.

how good it makes her feel 

knowing that morning, she did brush ~

her teeth

your days are overcast skies | your heart bursts like clouds | it rains from your eyes

everyday we shake our heads | because we can't believe | you in body are gone | we search for you on shorelines | in the songs of spirit birds

used to jump at shadows | inclined to take flight | now never afraid | to take on a just struggle | a battle of ideas

all her hopes and dreams | born a reality | his life her salvation

she speaks oracle | no one knows how to feel it | a flower opened

slanderings scurry | up and down the shoreline sure | I think of your mouth

winter reminder | driving rain from the Valley | golfball sized hailstones | April when corn is greening | foggy storms turn turbulent

you = happy | at times my greatest sadness | it's an up - down thang

She says let's dream on it | she no longer thinks | thinking has no heart

we celebrate | national sibling day | mourn our lost ones | and our parents gone long to land | of ancestors they've become

sun broke through grey days | a walk in the snowmelt | April showers frozen

the hawk is wind | razor sharp its insistence | to stay the course

snow in April | winter holds spring in its grip | everyone looks for sun

Spring rain spills in ropes | hopes for another green day | tomorrow today

I could

write abuela's

hair braids, her bun~

but what fun would that be?

rather write about her high tops

red dreams

she wore

them in the Spring

garden, planting her seeds ~

calabacitas born darkest

lime green

she grew

corn much taller

than her, barely five foot ~

sweet, abundant that tenderest

golden

green corn 

masa for best

tamales of the year

everyone helped shuck, newly born

heaven

because

it is April 

her almost birthday month

we sing her las mañanitas 

she cries

man gave her lemons | she made lemonade before | she bashed in his head | not really his head you know | but she visioned it in her own

women bleed so much | in so many ways | then become bad daughters | to mothers that don't mean them | no harm only the best good 

Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

December Senryū 2013

December Senryū  2013

there are no borders | for butterflies know freedom | ignore barriers

a better world | possible with faith and love | struggle for freedom

you who brought laughter | your leaving left tears | will always be remembered

creativity | bring beauty into the world | for the joy of all

a sense of purpose | caring for more than ourselves | for the greater good

support our own | vendors and businesses | cooperate to win

responsibility | for self and community | collective love

from the whispering basket | spirit-saints whispered | truths from the other side

listen to your heart | think with your own mind | for self-determination

in unity | we are stronger than enemies | we hold together

she believes in angels | that show themselves in many | forms of love

winter's day and sun | stands still waiting to reverse | in its celestial tracks

the place of lost voice | memories claw at her throat | tears form a knot there

ancient sea stars melt | into oceans on fire | we bury our heads

if we save the earth | we save ourselves and future | generations

I remember | my first love a smiling man | tender as a sapling

my love north wind | leans on me to show love | unruly and tussled

Butterfly Virgin | you patron saint of dreamers | who fly for freedom

US adores zombies | vampires their obsession too | those living dead

icy cold whispers | winter sweeps in through the house | on a sunny day

she dreams in all blues | frozen mid-sleep wishing | for early Spring

nights have grown endless | she only sleeps during days | napping at the edge

all mother's souls | melt into their children's  | growing into their own |
persons full and realized | pass love along in their blood

arctic cold fingers | grip the Bay in its grey fists | refuse to let go

a rock of a man | always loved more than hated | beacon for freedom

I give thanks for grief, which teaches me gratitude for life, and always for love...

the day born gray skies | sun elbowed its way out | smiling in triumph

grey fog stretches | arms around hills I live on | today sun sleeps in

petals fall to earth | they turn into fragrant clay | sweet-scented our cups

crows no longer caw | warnings about her at you | now that she's at peace

winter the inward | time of introspection | reflection on life’s pond

Copyright © 2013 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.

November Senryū ~ 2013

November Senryū

 2013

mizquitl tree | her place to sit | write letters to the future

this morning I wake | hearing jazz from your last room | know you are here

cuando dice un beso | siento miles | por todo el cuerpo

for survival | The People danced | all evil away

untangle this mess | we've made of Turtle Island | for children’s future

dance the balance | dance back clouds and rain |dance dance dance

we pray for the world | we are tiny bits of light | in the mother's web | 

born powerful in word | our deeds should be for right 

Georgia we miss you | secret smiles tucked in brush strokes | what a legacy

though innocent | our babies learn early | they are presumed guilty

sometimes praying | for loss of ones who've not loved | enough to deserve us

frosty autumn moon | full winter forecast | icy wind her companion

crows calling warnings | telling cars to quiet down | listen to the wind | 

they say on the avenue | we so need to free ourselves

we traded places | you love my Great Lake city | I fell for the Bay

in the thickest rind of night | when moon-void-of-course | sky a thick inky soup | 

she dances in the dark | wanting loved ones to return

a bigger purpose | our lives a journey to live | leave a legacy

your mighty voices | the sea's roar crying out | for all those now silenced 

they void green worlds |turn them sacrifice zones | non-places where rivers burn

sand paper scorched | heart bleeding for a sure loss | mind guilty of hope

we are born and sprout | grow into lanky wild weeds | then one day we go | 

with luck we sent out shoots | that bloomed brilliant as the stars

mornings I hear her | voice muffled through glass calling | I'm still here on the path | 

of a destiny foretold | zigzagging trouble

mother tree a legacy | elders passing life |to the next of kin 

death leaves a hole | we try to fill with living | and love an answer

misunderstanding | heartache wanting to be healed | when words aren't enough

smooth wooden boxes | relics from days before | cardboard became home

she is from this place | her blood mixed with rainwater | red earth in her skin

puny in comparison | to that which rises | a natural son | 

or stardust and light daughters | not needful of false fingers

she flies away | always returns home | to her city by the bay

our ancestors die | pass away into the light | in time we follow

Copyright © 2013 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.

February Senryū ~ 2013

✿

just for today she forgets | preciousness taken | what can never be

she wants to stay | away from all who knew her | before time moved on |

and took her seedling away | wants no talk of it ever

nights she cannot sleep | for baby's incessant cry | forever silenced

the best medicine | is her child's catching laughter | keeps her tears at bay 

sun smooths its way | past dark hostile clouds | enters her heart with joy

death is absolute | though some believe in return | she believes spirit

homespun men and women | once backbone of a nation | that's turned its back

on its people dependent | on parasitical life

stark and angled planes | the midwest has mystery | hidden by its trees

willows weep their loss | green flowing hair in moonlight | branches wisps of whips

winter a long sleep | bone white and stark as stones | speaking in tongues

time heals pain | of grief that rips us so deep | in agonizing moments

inept a system | that treats people with motives | far-flung from healing

nightmares walk the day | endless cruel reality | will erase with time

there's a sweet princess | buried in every evil | queen that seems all bad  

fairytales come true | the moral of the stories | stare you in the face

snow turns to grey slush | cold rain soup covers the streets | cars skate over ice

a walk with wee one | down to almost frozen creek | reminds her to cry

skip stones across water | after flailing around | the surface deepens 

memory a painful maze | all paths seem dead ends | lead back to anguish

incipient snow | fall smothers future's promise | spring seems faraway

if she could fold light | she'd harness starshine | back into herself

ignite the spark of life flow | stay the sadness she must face

she unbraids her hair | unloosens the tears | sheers off years of sadness

he came in smelling | the kitchen fogged delicious | of snow and outdoors 

while mourning his loss | she tried not to lose her mind | cut off all her hair

the past is just that... gone

she wants Spring to fill | her days with flowers and song | sun to wash winter

he could not give | her even a sign | of love still broken

laid to rest before | little angel hovers | his time cut too short

she has no problem | getting older it's a sign | of survival

love and convenience | an itch that needs scratching | an egg that needs salt

January Senryū 2013

a birthday deferred | celebration of rainstorms | everyone stays home

her mind stuck on | a fearful future | promises cloudy horizons

she has ripened | past the size of full moon | beyond bursting

apprehensive of | birthing a premature dream | something going wrong

howl what's in your heart | shout what's in your soul | full wolf moon is listening ♥

though never idle | the people now stand larger | wearing their prayers

we worry for tomorrow | instead of living | today is right now

a mind plays tricks | when it's lived a life of lies | denial and avoidance

being between | east and west a middle | child trying to fit 

growing up "American" | with no connection | to your ancestors |

is like being severed | from the roots of your core

solidarity | is not only feeling | with all your heart |

but also lending your voice | acting on your convictions

sometimes we are magnets | for trouble looking | for a place to land

a round dance revolution | invite everyone | trade your guns for drums

brave woman starving | while carpetbaggers play dumb | for diplomacy

while people starve | the fat cats rub their stomachs | satisfied with lies

the beasts of the world | cloaked in money's shiny things | hide their ugliness

s/he who dies for someone | without question | is blind or a warrior

finally awake | the long sleeping | seek out the princess to thank

memory of a minute | ago seems like last year | fades fiercely

she relives | a childhood that never was | being old before her time

the grilled cheese | smiles at the tomato soup | sun melts between bread

snow powders the streets | lakes and ponds want to freeze | over the winter

a thaw of no consequence | temperatures soar | fools only humans

momentary lapses | become a void | of confusion 

will she forget | everything even her name | and no one to blame

some days your heart breaks | you cry and little one asks | are you happy now?

women who birth new nations | come together | no hesitation

holidays | overdone indulgences | continue to bloom

roasted chile poblano | smokes up the kitchen | our food has memories

we pray for the brave | who have no earthly fear | entering spirit world

you can not get through | life without any scars | your spirit lines

 Copyright © Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved

December Senryū 2012

idle no more | we march further for future | like our ancestors

our reality | is living in a dreamtime | of our own making

she has turned whispers | into thunder her voice sounds | people heed the call

because we are | all related in this great world | we struggle for peace

we must lift our voices | demand justice | for the people

she knits love | into scarves to keep her loved | ones warm

on the night before the day | she prayed for peace | happy for her life

Victoria | we salute you fearless | woman of courage

we ask ourselves why | all the time knowing there's hate | and despair awaits

a silent snow melts | into sorry ground soaked | their precious life spilled

innocents become martyrs | of a world gone mad | where war is response

mothers sacrifice | their children without consent | to warmonger madmen

how many sacrificed | in war and madness | one is too many

sorrow cuts deep | a nation built on horror | bloody ground

can we forgive ourselves | for staying mute | in the face of massacre

they were innocent angels | so close to the peace | returned

they say guns do not kill | but people do demon's work | they are the tools

her mother says | there have always been madmen | they are on the rise

babies are mowed down | people want to know why | truth too much to bear

a plane goes down | dreams dashed linger there | in fragments of a great life

we come in spirals | dancing into the world | head first without thought

we relent on cue | commitments too big to fit | when our world's falling

first snow fell silent | tiny feathers of white light | melted as it hit

he will always live | suspended in amber | in her bitter heart

too many years passed | she aches for the ghost of him | he is not that man ✿⊱╮

at almost eighty-years-young | she believes she's old | then takes on the role

the circle of life | contains all living beings | what we do to ourselves

poets converge | joined together they share songs | on life and living

the people move | from resistance to offensive | when they are not heard

words mean so little | compared to actions | love's rays are everywhere"

she stands lakeside | staring at the glass green lake | prays for good journeys | her mother stares out windows | buscando la luna