Poetically fluent

My little poetry corner, shared with the world

Shallow Parts of Your Ocean 05/13/2011





I feel the blow before it comes,

Insecurely waiting for the

charge of your waves,

they strike me and

I fall under.


My lungs struggle for breath,

as I sink under your salty blue.

Fallen to the bottom of your rush,

too much to bare.


Force me back to shore,

to the shadow of your tumultuous affection,

the gashes on my chest will heal.


Dare me to run into the deep.





Heart to Heart with Brain 08/05/2010



Analyze all you want,

dear brain,

 your memories are warped.


I forgot about the pain infringed upon me. 


 Until the last drop of red propels through me,

I will love,



I am stronger.



La Hispañola 04/06/2010

Filed under: La Hispanola,Poems by yours truly — Dileiny @ 16:04
Tags: , ,


American girl,

 but her parents

come from an island

 floating in the Caribbean.


Far away

from the native lands

 but the roots

have infiltrated the veins.


The mouth waters from the smell of

platano maduros.


Logic doesn’t matter,

the answer is in

the revelations of her sueños.


The intuition that guided

her abuela,

her mama

now her,

psychic at times.


Trained herself to be

calm & collected


shake her up

and the

Latin blood fizzles inside.



Man-eater 03/17/2010

Filed under: Man-eater,Poems by yours truly — Dileiny @ 12:12
Tags: , , ,


Monarch of her life.

possessor of her  body,

of her nights.




little boys,

don’t regret her or forget her.

Take pleasure in the experience,

let her calm your apprehensions.



Until the sun revels itself through her window,

you’re the owner of her pillow.

Entangled in her kiss,

prisoner of her lust,

of her touch.



Foolish boys,

will do anything for desire.

What a sinful game she plays




The Little Girl 02/22/2010

Filed under: Poems by yours truly,The Little Girl — Dileiny @ 16:43
Tags: , ,


I remember a time

when I was the only girl in my class who hadn’t gone through puberty.
Mosquito bites for breast,
stuffed my training bra with bunched up socks,
just to see what it felt like.
Dressed in loose-fitted clothes,
to cover my boyish figure.


Pray to god when you need his help.
But how can I ask God for tits?
Instead I ask,
God, make me a woman.


These days,
I carry B-cups on my chest,
monthly visits from a friend,
who arrives grand,
in her unbecoming
red dress.


Last night,
I fell asleep with my bra on again.
This morning, my skin is marked.
Abdominal pains are coming on,
blood thickening,
trying to make its way through my uterus.
Bloated, but I’m forcing the water retention into a pair of tight jeans.
What a bad start to my day.


The flat chested little girl inside,
“You damn all the things you ever wanted,
But you are a woman now.”