Friday, June 01, 2018

May Senryū 2018

May Senryū 2018
for those time-blessed among the stars her gaze raised to meet | his swell of feelings years stored | a tsunami
laid out in rows | the sardines she craved | in her phases to full moon
how it continues | so much pain in the world | the far side of love
tall sword ferns breakthrough nightmares | sharp green tongues confused | tangled foliage
saw his hidden heart | in photographs of places | he sent across time tries to heal deep wounds | from younghood days lost | time does not fly mackerel bellied clouds | etched across blue sky| welcomes salmon sunset a soothing place | misty and watercolored | no constant talkers here to preserve our being | we leave legacies | share words on paper | the beauty our minds paint | our heart-minds take flight in song
calm appeals | for reasonableness | for compassion | instead of hate and anger | instead of fiery life
you can read my mind | the same flesh and blood | your dna in my heart memories linger | your butterfly touches | there’s no shame in love in acts of kindness | she seeks collaboration | small changes matter
for the time being | she lights a candle | for someone who understands
the pain of her own | heartbreak for a world | slow turtle changes for good
your inbox empty | there’s not even any spam | you have been ghosted
critical image | a dragon wing of water | sweeping away life
you cannot capture | water is like our image | it knows escape routes
doomed to extinction | now cannot be framed | we’re all escaped images
even this moment | time passes to the past quick | now always exits we blur and distort | to preserve a moment passed | an image captured
at your mansplain quack quack quack | she thinks of water | rolling off duck's back
milky cataracts | flowers of emptiness | oil on water
bella flor | vida arrancada | lagrimas negras
we are the distilled | tears of ancestors turned clouds | skies become clear lakes
your email | bad flew out | like from that infamous box | I shouldn’t have opened up | the past is of a past me
we simply flow | through the impermanence | leaves on the river
futile arguments | shed more heat than light | we listen to heal | our broken hearts must be heard | with compassion and justice
you kill in the name of God | say you are chosen | must be the vengeful one | to mow down innocents | as if they were not human
explanations | secrets are like moths to light | no excuses
blackbirds take a break | mockingbirds new messengers | with all their chitter
you treat them badly | as if their lives don't matter | why should they care | work is not just money | it's about making change
in the line of time | there's no going back | she prefers the circle Copyright © 2018 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, May 19, 2018


By Odilia Galván Rodríguez for my mother and all the mothers
butterfly warrior woman you were forged in fire fierce in your desire to transform yourself and your world from the red-orange flames to birth and inspire new nations without borders Oh precious star your beauty does not blind me nor do the tongues of your flames I am not frightened to walk into your embrace you Obsidian Flower who like the sharpest knife cuts through all the lies and shapeshifts tomorrows
Copyright © 2018 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

Itzpapalotl ~ The Obsidian Knife Butterfly art ©Richard Balthazar:

Tortilla Moon over a McAllen, TX 4* Hotel Pool

Tortilla Moon over a McAllen, TX 4* Hotel Pool 
For BV
I do not have blond hair
My eyes are not blue
My skin is copper
I’m not milk-colored like you
Your parents look at me
Like I don't belong 
I see all of you watching and 
whisper to my mom 
All these are rich people 
I know, I look scared
I am, it makes me shy

Mom’s friend, who’s not from here
looks at me, smiles, and says 
Girlfriend, you're as rich
If not richer than all those there 
Never forget you're as good 
As anyone anywhere, so don't be shy
Go over and own the world
Yes, it's just as much yours
As it is theirs, let’s go
Jump in that pool
She goes with me
Then I am fine
Copyright © 2018 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

April Senryū 2017

April Senryū 2017 
for Spring blooms 
harmonica harp | digs into her chest pulls strings | with heart ripping sounds
beso tus ojos | pero no recuerdas | cuánto me deseas
heat wave in streets | poetry and music calls | inside we write our souls
you catch my spirit | in your lightbox with an eye | it will be free again
no more predictions | on the weather or demons | on how they'll behave | 
all protocols abandoned | who knows how madmen will rule
to feel nostalgia | for those lips that need so much | witchcraft in his smile
our universe built | on sacred geography | with secret knowledge
a moment in time | same as in a thousand years | uniquely sincere
today her soul fell back | into place with his voice | smiling at her
a rain of lightning | that came down in thick ropes | with thunder up ahead
how to rip your heart | out of that story so old | from my heart that bleeds
when yesterday calls | not wishing to relive pasts | she will not answer
it's best to be gone | the way we come in a spark | in an instant
bombs should never be | but aimed at those who love war | not at innocents
bella bebida | caída del cielo | zumo de estrellas
there are no words | for cowards who drop bombs | for those who love war
moving in circles | she avoids head-on moon-slides | planets hula-hoop | backward and no one cares | spoiled princesses cause wars
sprouting grass moon | full bloom possibilities | in rainclouds embrace
storms threaten | music's gotten her through many | how lucky she's been
shall I bury you | are you finally dead and gone | your ghost's everywhere
wants to heal the world | revolutionary love | with mad crazy love
bombs against people | to send a don’t bomb message | that they shouldn’t bomb
In Lak’ech | I’m in you-you're in me | there are no six degrees
Spring is budding new | though evil tries to destroy | life on our planet
writes pretty poems | because she needs beauty | the world is so f&#*ed
spiders sway from silk | swings in trees blooming Springtime | green shoots buds of life
when people you love | the ones you think you know | hide in the shadows
there are thirteen sides | to every story with rules | our lives come with maps
when he touches her | there's no one else in the room | saxophone lightning
the first day of April | came in sunny and dry | who's foolin' who

Copyright © 2017 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

Friday, March 31, 2017

March Senryū 2017

for embracing new life with all its challenges
in one-hundred words | she writes him a love poem | an hasta luego
| maybe another forty | to say aloha again
dancing mid-street | not acting any age | trying to wake up 
unheard voices | speak to us in images | herstory muses
not an afterthought | who you think of while pruning | all of your roses
lonely people | in Japan they rent out cats | here spend days on-line
then she walked loveblind | into a new life chapter | it was much later
| she discovered his role | trivial to her story
an eclipse of light | you stand in the door | occulting the sun
dragons and snakes | soaring / seeking perspective | opposites attract
we won't say your name | you will forever be | just number 45
crow hitches a ride | posing as hood ornament | old time GPS
morning's afterbirth | rainbow rings around the sun | ice crystals bent light
she felt the bones break | before she ever got beat | she got so tired
| of a life dodging violence | before she could escape
trouble... the water | that needs healing like we do | pray for the answers
| sing the water whole again | if we believe we can
we don't grow old | our bodies wear and tear | there's no replacement parts
blood ties not always | as strong as those bonds we form | friends as familia
lugar mágico | donde fui concebida | entre mezquite
| y nopal brotando | flores de sol y sangre
World Poetry Day | let's all put down our weapons | unite in the word
| in flower and song offered | for peace and love to prevail
Spring is in motion | US climate glacial ice | waiting for the thaw
she cannot die | a person who creates | she was never born
| she transcends time and space | becoming and existence
what was hidden | heart in the present moment | brought into being
defrag your mind | fill in those gaps caused by hate | recall slows us down
easy amnesia | another word for denial | erase blasted pasts
| pretend we were all saints | we had no help sinning
can't lose everything | if you give it all away | sit in stillness
before time or space | lived dark where ego is killed | swirls unseen forces
her everyday eats | poems to calm a torment | non-monotonous
gap-toothed pain while ailing | from alien greed | craters in the head
a gypsy poet | with no birthplace monument | born on the road
a force to embrace | women who carry water | who know how to pray
you can pretend | you don't love me anymore | I know the truth
heading west for home | a piece of my heart lives there | on Pacific's shore
| a door to a future-past | one that will always last
rain is falling | in the garden plants lift heads | give thanks to the frogs
Copyright © 2017 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

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

stand 'em up shoes
those kind that make you lose.
ones that say come fuck me ~ pumps so

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 

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

green corn 
masa for best
tamales of the year
everyone helped shuck, newly born

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.

Friday, April 08, 2016

March Senryū 2016

"Crows in the Hood" by Comrade Foot. Creative Commons.

for the ability to live up to challenges

we visit you here | in this place we can't fathom | with beautiful flowers

grand love
fathers \ daughters.
some, almost perfect, no?
there are those who could tell you truths --
to shame.

when you're proud to know | the boy you raised who grew wise | way beyond his years
that kiss was kismet | some past life holdover | now to get over it
wild blackbird warning | then car's back door flies open | wallet on the ground | 
Good Samaritan noticed | comes to your rescue saves day
old Havana | has her secrets hidden deep | in layers of paint
mysticwoman | she who sees beyond eyes | who hears the longtime voices
there are don't ride trains | ones that are going down wrong | sidetracked forever
the eyes have it | true windows to the heart/soul | what do yours say
she works in the dark | hands need no light to create | smooth and soothe the lines
people block the hate | with their bodies and prayers | close down the clown's cars |
until the streets can be safe | once more from this war on us
ancestral knowledge | sure as sunshine and moon rise | we are all welcomed
my dream peeps | are keepers and are not me | have their own lives to live
in shackles and chained | no respect for human beings | illegal they're not
kindness of strangers | takes you by the arm | welcomes you like family
sad for that hurt feeling | don't know why people hate | ocean bottom deep
in the morning | she will give thanks for being | for one more day |
to become a better human | to pray for health and kindness
tongues for justice | will never be silenced | from ashes rises fire
we geography | the maps and myths of our lives | places and people
beauty of the blush | of new flower bud just born | of sacred promise
new flood warnings | morning woke late and foggy | turned off her alarm
thunder beings roar | gulf waters jump up the shore | downpour on the brink 
going inward | to reflect on no reflection | mirror the darkness |
seeking out those specks of stars | your love that's become so small

hair clip
on the sidewalk~
rusty as the years long,
held up some beautiful tresses
back when.

so we dis-agree | about presidents and such | aren't we family |
we're not that divided | we both want peace and justice
land where you were made | where ancestors lived and died | a full life circle |
you piece together the songs | the wrongs no longer matter
a book is a world | enter its doors and go | journeying the unknown
the mother in her | makes them feel comfortable | is what makes them talk |
they open up like windows | on a bright sunny day
so much love is soup | simmered steamy with good will | veggies and chicken
hunger food for thought | and a quiet place in woods | where the raven calls
denial does no good | in friendship one must see | their own shortcomings

Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

January and February Senryū 2016

Super Moon, July 12, 2014, courtesy Marie-Marthe Gagnon, Flickr Creative Commons.


for staying in the present todays, and for those sweet yesterdays that will never come again

lazy day Sunday | breakfast with a new friend | end and beginning
cool evening | sleeps and wakes a windy day | with gulf waves raging 
descarrilado | en medio de su mundo | tiniebla duro
derailed | in the middle of his world | hard darkness
torrential rains one minute | then hot sun barking | loudly on the street 
full snow moon | this is not June it’s winter | the false Spring’s singing | 
songs of fireflies and ladybugs | it’s certainly not summer 
full hunger moon | a desire for flowers | ready to spread wings
what you could have had | but decided to pass up | took love for granted 
you know what’s missing | are torn apart by grief | can’t figure out why 
a warriors heart | bigger than their whole body | often full of ache | 
the force of convictions | motivated by deep love
your good face forward | there’s no place for grief | so lead with a smile | 
think of your tears as wings | that fly over the gulf searching 
your big sun smile | loves every minute of joy | this work has brought | 
and Spring’s wanting to be sprung | you in every flower
love not a one day affair | it’s three-hundred-sixty five | twenty-four-seven |  
like you crave sun in winter | cool water in the spring
you are a love | from time before time mattered | you will always be 
we are witnesses | to the injustice | world of greed and hate 
you’ve become a saint | a prophet to remember | your teachings humble
there are trees that speak | skin’s related to bark | you listen content | 
always knew they are relatives | guarding you since you were young
his skin on yours silk | your young bodies seamless | no begin or end just two
you are everywhere | in every living being | it does my heart good 
of ghosts and spirits | we dream each other’s stories | that ignore borders 
imagining | a better world to leave | for future
when all the stars stared | down to find you in the midst | there you were in trees | 
a wind song kissing leaves | you always wanting verde 
story of her life | the best ones choose others | her picker broken
she is leaking grief | leaving its blue trickle trail | everywhere she goes 
the road gives you time | to know you are from there | home is where you are
she shakes her head | knowing it’s not really true | you have not gone on
they hang out their shingle | sell pretty new age snake oil | so buyer beware 
only her medicine | words that can’t be spoken | but sung aloud | 
can save her from sadness | that place of despair 
speak in fiery tongues | from our mouths encantations | fly forth in love 
you here in the wind | in the trees where black birds sleep | in the deepest song


when you love without | an agenda about you | thinking you are it
dark misty coastline | driving rain and loving it | missing the unseen
those who make medicine | with their good words no lies | with their good hearts
the imposters masks | shall be ripped from their faces | take no places | 
that do not belong to you | your lies become the crows call
we try to understand | what can never be | how to move on
with the snow moon full | you say your final goodbyes | fly into the light
rest in peace | sweetest Rose of the valley | mother to so many
worn out your machine | called a body a temple | and you want to dream
beyond borders | you fly home to ancestors | who wait with open arms
hermano mio | fly home to the ancestors | to their resplendent arms | 
In Xochitl In Cuicatl
we worry in vain | about much we can't control | better to have glee
it's a new year | a chance at beginnings | give thanks every day

Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Journey Home

For FXA,  February 21, 1954 - January 15, 2015

our mother water | cleared this day a greener path | came down in thick ropes

 ayer rituales | from that cradle where you grew | all your traditions

rooted in some strong | long ago red earth pregnant | possibilities

of that son you are | true to all you have become | in this world of spines

that would sooner pierce | than heal soul bodies with food | sacrificed from flesh

and the heart of it | is that life is just like that | thorny to shield soft

and vulnerable | though we mimic the strongest | ones rooted firme

deep in the forest | of our lives that don’t last long | we make our own way

don't regret the turns | taken to get to ends | that always come too soon

watch you breathe ragged | breaths from their shallow nests | you eye me and see

my soul reaching out | to soothe you hermano | as you struggle through

a warriors death | you are present for it all | strong in your resolve

to experience | your passing like your life | to the fullest

now you have taught me | one more thing eye didn’t know | to die with courage

worn out your machine | called a body a temple | and you want to dream

we demand dreaming | to take you into next world | light to guide your way

we pray for comfort | want no fear for your journey | in that place that calls you

near or far not gone | now the people want to flock | to your side to touch

that flame before it goes out | but not everyone | can be invited

to witness your flight | only the very dearest | for it’s your journey

eye am close but far | or a little distant | for fear of trampling

yesterday as you slept | eye read you Snake Poems | your eyes flew open

you recognized | your own incantations | spilling into the room

like watercolors | of our mother blue | splashing the walls

with our laughter | we chased away the shadows | tears became happy

eye am writing this | how we communicate | curando con palabra

changing their lead | into spun golden prayers | showers of pollen

to sprinkle hope | onto the heads of this world | some so hard can’t see

you take your book | out of my hands and recite | you channel from there

body in flames | a different sort of burning | you down to ashes
| waiting to fly out of them | resplendent in your journey

eye can’t imagine | a world without you in it | brother born of word

you a love warrior | fighting to stay present | to your last breath

eye struggle to know | what to say now that words | no longer matter
| except as prayers | except as incantations

we communicate by breaths | each one marks pain and promise | you still here with us

when eye read your words | tears spring to my eyes and fall | silently streaming

we are about the word | a business that is not one | blessings upon all

you’ve left Francisco | body that housed your spirit | now you’re all angel

beyond borders | you fly home to ancestors | who wait with open arms

Davis, CA 12 - 15, Enero

Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.