April Blooms

Poems For National Poetry Month!

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(NaPoWriMo prompt – translate a poem from another language you know or if you don’t know it make up a translation… my attempt at re-visioning Meg Bateman’s Màthair. I instinctively knew that meant Mother…)



you were deep roots    of old trees
they never let us stray too far no, you
kept us tethered    the hearth
even the housing projects a home

a spider you had eyes everywhere
there was no place we could hide
complex those feelings of wanting love and
the fear of being smothered

as a child it’s difficult to understand
the lash as embrace    later you would admit
it was just your way    no child spoiled no child lost
we knew what was expected

no guessing games or riddles
as sure as there was always work
to be done    was something left for dreams or
when the long sleep would finally come   mercifully


Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.


By Meg Bateman
Bha sinn a’coimhead nan rionnag
mus do thionndaidh sinn a-steach leis na coin,
is thuirt thu gum bu mhithich dhut
na h-ainmean aca ionnsachadh gu ceart.

Ach chan fhada gus am bi thu fhèin nam measg
’s is mise a bhios a’feuchainn ri d’ainmeachadh,
thusa aig nach fhaca mi do nàdar
ach mar phriobadh fann an cuid solais –

Is tu riamh an ceann do dhleastanais,
mu chòcaireachd, caoraich, leabhraichean;
a bheil fios an d’fhuair thu do dhìol
airson do dheataim is spàirn is sgìths?

O gun lasainn de dh’aighear annad
na leigeadh leam d’fhaicinn gu slàn,
no chan fhaide thu bhuam nuair a shiùbhlas tu
nab ha thu rim thaobh a-nochd.

Scottish Poetry Library

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I Remember


your face with hair a fake

a mustache covering

your beautiful upper lip

the one I love most

to kiss  with the tip

of my tongue red

lingering at its edge

I do not hedge my bets

do not want to chance

this might be the last time

with you it’s always feels

like that and it’s hit or miss

a kite that goes up

and may never come back

downed by lightning

these poems

fill with clichés

maybe bad ones

me I’m just a horse

ridden by spirits

who mount to speak

through me in these

lines that don’t mean shit

it’s a toss of the dice

this life so messy and yet


all at the same time



Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

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A Midnight Stroll


She walked along the beach at midnight

Lives a block from the Gulf of Mexico

Not normally a good time for a woman

to be out unescorted.

But she couldn’t sleep

Went home with a headache,  got right into bed.

All that talk about relationships, and how all hers fail.

She had dinner with a friend, but it made her restless.

During work she remembered.

The rest of the day she hummed old soul songs.

She woke up early with a poem on her tongue.

Dreaming in prayers, hopes and dreams…


Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.



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Leggy Poem


Leggy Legs                                                                                  Creative Commons License

terse with the leggy verse she repudiates its usefulness but decides to oblige anyway.
all weekend without him she thinks of why she loves him, if she even should bother.
walks on the beach alone are fine, but sunsets are better in at least a twosome,
or is it that she sick of being alone?  he seems content with his other life,
his work and such; maybe he repudiates her but can’t say, or won’t.
some men don’t like conflict especially the leggy kind, long and drawn out.
dramas don’t suit their temperaments. they are more the slash and burn and forget about it types. but not women, we love to talk things out. to process why it can’t work, or could it this way, and what are the benefits of staying friends if we can’t ?
anyway, can men be friends with women? her ex says, No, it’s a big lie men tell women
so they can get some. but she’s not so sure about that, remembers having friends
of the opposite sex, but now that she thinks on it, they were gay. and what the heck
is a leggy poem? is it one that resembles a tall drink of water? a legs all the way up to their waist kind of poem? Long and stretched to the limits, or the edges. Is this that?
She doesn’t rightly know, but was damned if she would let a form of poetry scare her.
like this relationship… that is not really one, but keeps on trying to be something that resembles one.


Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.



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I Asked the Universe

Said I didn’t want
to be a wife
but needed someone
to love me right
for my life
the universe
sent me you
one who’s loved
all the lies and
the deceit
I vomited
love and all it
the insecurity
and fear
the control
jealousy and
check off boxes
that material
of normalcy

big (expensive) wedding
house (mortgaged to the hilt)
2.2 children
money in the bank (credit)
big screen TV’s
in important rooms
new cars
conspicuous consumption

in dreams
I’ve seen you there
but not
in so many
years before
when I still
in love
before I swore
no more
I might have
been the one
to break your heart
way back then
but it wasn’t
it’s hard to love
when no one’s
ever taught you how
you believe in all
that Ozzy and Harriet
TV shit  monogamy
all the kool-aid drinkers
believin’ in it
but then  when it’s good
for the goose and
not for the gander
I never believed
it worked
men ain’t built for it
though they take vows
don’t count those
lap dances
dark alley blow —
well you know
semen on blue dresses
lies all lies
you love your wife and
I ain’t her


Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

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The Face Reflects the Heart

we unmask faces
those eyes, so deep
with doubt
the seemingly
genuine smile
nervous and
witholding  oh, body lingo
seemingly clear
to family, close friends
those that will not be fooled
by you, who would try and hide
all you feel about another
be it sister, brother, or loverthe face reflects the heart
no matter how you hide
it will swell in your eyes
your smile becomes a rainbow
when the object of your desire
is within your corazon’s radar
so never try to supress it

your heart will bleed into light

Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.

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Herb Knot Destiny

chiricahua sky island/Flickr Creative Commons

every dawn
she whispers her vespers

in her hands
fantastical flowers
she tosses out

to tame
the turbulent waves
ecru calla lilies

violet irises and
vermillion roses open
their flowery thighs

their hearts wide
float the verdant gulf waters
a kind of music

thick with blues-
deep purple jelly fish
lost heads but graceful

ballerinas accompanied
by so many barnacle-jeweled
treasures from far off lands

driftwood   ship’s rope
sea bean hearts and coconuts
rainbows after a storm

that remind her of home
Pacific Ocean
melodious with lyrical waves

of red-womb and
the calabash of existence
which contains all sound

that brings visions
all daydreams and
night dreams

romantic and songlike
that do not hold their tongue
tuneful poetry

of love and lovers
who don’t know any better and
delight in their charms

enchanted from their time travel
idyllic this secret life
unchaperoned and desirable

no alibi
in traveling shows
life’s pulchritude

that makes no sense
but destiny
built by people’s hopes

known or to be known
by the oldest sound of them

their familiar heartbeats.


Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez.  All Rights Reserved.




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