Saturday, February 28, 2015


In a dream world of English breakfasts,
Portuguese wines, Indian spices, Spanish songs,
Our brown skins will gather tan on French leaves.

Your songs, Thinking Out Loud, and word games,
Kissing through words of poetry- Hafiz and Rumi,
Red FM screaming through the kitchen windows.

Your atheism, my running between beliefs-
Christianity, spirituality and Zen Buddhism
All melting against the love-light in your eyes.

Sunday, February 22, 2015


There were forgotten words and broken promises;
Hues matched, songs played and dreams shared
From a springtime of love in another sacred space
That comes back in full riot in your shining eyes.

A world that was lost for not being a Stepford,
With long hair, obedience or even a loyal heart,
A world that was built upon years of dreams
That this elemental water had lost in time.

In the meantime, our definitions have changed;
From two strangers lost in a strange dream;
Obeying rules and breaking no boundaries,
Going from day to day without any joys.

With you, I am a sun that needs to rise and shine,
That meets your mischief with a matching hue.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


You are the sprout that demands my pelting rain of affection, my tiny green whose footsteps fill me with pride with words that come right from the heart.

You are my sprout that loves everything green and creeps over all these broken walls of old houses and old loves and broken dreams.

You are my sprout that cuts through words, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, born out of a green dream of having a name to leave behind.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Moving on

All the verbs have gone away
Cook, love, like, forget, forgive-
The million contradictions
To believe or not to believe
To love or not to love
To hate or not to hate
To smile or not to smile
To talk or not to talk

To move on out of this rut
We need a brand new day
Without barriers imposed:
To give birth to fantasies
That relieve even pain
All the million contradictions
Answered by wisdom
And not by rules of others

May be it would have been
Made so simple if instead
Of silence I had asked,
What you wanted from me?
The days have fled fast
Without my verbs to do
And another contradiction
That needs moving on

Pensiamento Fantastico: The Kitchen God’s Wife

Amy Tan’s novels serve as cultural documents that describe the immigrant experience in terms of communality and identity. They con...