A shadow is lingering in the back of my brain
candy wrapper crackling in the darkness
teeth striking against sharp enamel edges
waiting like a cat ready to pounce on prey
ever watchful for the sound or the movement
that will set off the next chain of events
wasting time 'til the spark sets us on fire.
I dreamt that you died and you forgot
to say good-bye. How can I sleep
when the chair keeps being left wide
open in the yard ? A gaping mouth
with no one around to fold it close,
where downward facing dog
is the new prayer pose, no words,
just breath and beads of sweat
to offer as sacrifice.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2013 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Twice Promised
It’s strange now to think of you after all this time. A letter twice folded slipped into the back
of a desk drawer. There are marks on me where the pen met the paper. A past filled with promises. The
present left unattended. Where do we go from here? You kept asking. On the back porch I drink a glass
of cold water making my teeth hurt. My answers are incomplete. Shelves are brimming with unread books. Where
do we even start? A question mark perched on the edge. I would
apologize if I knew what you did wrong. We move, move, move to stop from thinking about each other. Now that I've paused, flood waters.
Remind me to look you up after I’ve sorted the recycling. Sitting quietly with
past, I surrender.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2013 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Esta Noche
It’s Friday…and it’s slightly past the middle of the day and I can barely keep my eyes open. Feeling a bit low-energy. I’m on my second 12-oz of cold water to try to shake me awake. It’s not working. Instead, it just makes me want to pee often. I’m grumbly and moody. I ate a healthy veggie chili with a spicy kick that I made last night. It was yummy. But I’m feeling high-strung and upset today. I reached out to a friend and we kvetched about writing and it made me laugh at that moment. But now I’m back with chin in hand wanting to connect with my sci-fi novel. The one that’s not working. I’m frustrated. So I work on other things but the other projects don’t leave me satisfied. Instead, it heightens my frustration. Ergh!
Anyway, I wrote the following passage on the train home after Heart’s concert on Wednesday. It’s a pretty rough first draft….
Afterwards
In darkness love could be wrong
legs cross away, we do no speak clearly
bottles left uncovered, spilling over.
I am lost on First Avenue at midnight
bags lean against my thigh
she leaves me, reading a book.
My music consists of guitar players,
quiet vocals singing my lost poetry
We don’t speak, we squeeze into tight
subway spaces reminded that we loved
each other once. My watch has stopped,
your time is wrong and neither figure
on being right for a change. Wait,
while I write complicated prose
on my back teeth, past Cypress Avenue
at half past midnight and limp away
on blistered knees and bleeding feet.
Open my eyes and you have left me
again. Black kohl smudge the page
from stained fingertips. Inverted
phrases say nothing and tease me
that I was once a poet who wore
a black trench on a humid October
night and the rains have kept away.
You love me, especially at night
alone, keeping company with memories.
Ignite the corrections and a foot stamps
against the train floor. Pack a layer
of the past, the mewling cat demands
to be fed as Ann Wilson sings my path
home when uncovered bottles tip over.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Anyway, I wrote the following passage on the train home after Heart’s concert on Wednesday. It’s a pretty rough first draft….
Afterwards
In darkness love could be wrong
legs cross away, we do no speak clearly
bottles left uncovered, spilling over.
I am lost on First Avenue at midnight
bags lean against my thigh
she leaves me, reading a book.
My music consists of guitar players,
quiet vocals singing my lost poetry
We don’t speak, we squeeze into tight
subway spaces reminded that we loved
each other once. My watch has stopped,
your time is wrong and neither figure
on being right for a change. Wait,
while I write complicated prose
on my back teeth, past Cypress Avenue
at half past midnight and limp away
on blistered knees and bleeding feet.
Open my eyes and you have left me
again. Black kohl smudge the page
from stained fingertips. Inverted
phrases say nothing and tease me
that I was once a poet who wore
a black trench on a humid October
night and the rains have kept away.
You love me, especially at night
alone, keeping company with memories.
Ignite the corrections and a foot stamps
against the train floor. Pack a layer
of the past, the mewling cat demands
to be fed as Ann Wilson sings my path
home when uncovered bottles tip over.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Happy Friday, Part Deux
Dear readers,
It’s a dark, soaking wet Friday in good ol’ Nu Yawk Sitty…but it’s FRIDAY!! YAY!! Before you start looking for part one of Happy Friday...there isn't one. Hehehe...I just like writing DEUX.
I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge that sometimes I put in way too minutiae regarding my life and that can be a little off-putting. After all, we all have to deal with the every day realities of our lives. So thanks for sticking around and reading my blog anyway.
Being a creative person in this world…is complicated sometimes. In writing this blog, I wanted to share some of my process with a larger audience. But I have found that writing about my writing life…is very similar to making a movie about a writer. Basically, you cut to a montage of a writer at a typewriter or a computer pounding away either in ecstasy or in dismay. Either lying on a bed bemoaning the work, or pacing the room talking to oneself as a writer struggles to get through a section. Riiiiiight!
That’s a romantic notion. I think pounding on a keyboard is right but everything else…eh, not so much. I say all this because this writer works a full time day job to pay bills, who jots character description based on the strangers I come across on the train, who daydreams about frantic love affairs to capture them on the page, who writes lines of poetry on scraps of papers, who is moved by good music and little independent movies, who consumes books like oxygen, who takes care of Pandora (a short haired black Bombay cat), who can’t decide between paying her cell phone bill or buying tickets to see Ed Sheeran in concert (hehehe, true story), who helps her dad with every computer questions he can come up with, who helps her sisters with writing memos, who helps friends revamp resumes, eeek…you get the point. A busy life. Don’t we all have that?
At the same time, I am trying to get healthier in my body, do a little walking, a little stretching, a little yoga, and eating better. I am down 19.5 lbs as of this morning. Hoo-RAH! Trying not to be everyone’s caretaker until I have my own house in order (not an easy lesson after being so good at be there for others). Trying a new outlook on life. Trying new recipes, cooking for myself again, tonight I am making an Okra Veggie Stew. Phew! Just writing this out makes me a little tired…hehehe. No, not really. I’m taking my vitamins and I am ready to go.
It’s really when I’m up late at night staring at the ceiling that I think I’m wasting time. Tick, tock, tick tock, there is much to do. White rabbit syndrome, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late for an important date.” Yet knowing there is just so much I can do in a day. After writing this blog out, I’ll be off to write my errand list for tomorrow…and try really hard to remember that tomorrow night I’m going to see Jack White in concert. SWEET!!
[Upcoming Event]
I’ve been invited to read one of my poems at the New York Times VOCES Affinity Group Event for Hispanic Heritage Month on October 10, 5:30-8:30 pm at 620 Eighth Ave. New York, NY 10018. Open to the public. Palabras, Ritmo y Arte A Celebration of Latino Poetry, Music And Art Featuring spoken word artists, musicians and a mixed media artists gallery showcasing the vibrant words and art of Latinos from the Tristate area.
Have an amazing Friday!
Peace,
L~
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
It’s a dark, soaking wet Friday in good ol’ Nu Yawk Sitty…but it’s FRIDAY!! YAY!! Before you start looking for part one of Happy Friday...there isn't one. Hehehe...I just like writing DEUX.
I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge that sometimes I put in way too minutiae regarding my life and that can be a little off-putting. After all, we all have to deal with the every day realities of our lives. So thanks for sticking around and reading my blog anyway.
Being a creative person in this world…is complicated sometimes. In writing this blog, I wanted to share some of my process with a larger audience. But I have found that writing about my writing life…is very similar to making a movie about a writer. Basically, you cut to a montage of a writer at a typewriter or a computer pounding away either in ecstasy or in dismay. Either lying on a bed bemoaning the work, or pacing the room talking to oneself as a writer struggles to get through a section. Riiiiiight!
That’s a romantic notion. I think pounding on a keyboard is right but everything else…eh, not so much. I say all this because this writer works a full time day job to pay bills, who jots character description based on the strangers I come across on the train, who daydreams about frantic love affairs to capture them on the page, who writes lines of poetry on scraps of papers, who is moved by good music and little independent movies, who consumes books like oxygen, who takes care of Pandora (a short haired black Bombay cat), who can’t decide between paying her cell phone bill or buying tickets to see Ed Sheeran in concert (hehehe, true story), who helps her dad with every computer questions he can come up with, who helps her sisters with writing memos, who helps friends revamp resumes, eeek…you get the point. A busy life. Don’t we all have that?
At the same time, I am trying to get healthier in my body, do a little walking, a little stretching, a little yoga, and eating better. I am down 19.5 lbs as of this morning. Hoo-RAH! Trying not to be everyone’s caretaker until I have my own house in order (not an easy lesson after being so good at be there for others). Trying a new outlook on life. Trying new recipes, cooking for myself again, tonight I am making an Okra Veggie Stew. Phew! Just writing this out makes me a little tired…hehehe. No, not really. I’m taking my vitamins and I am ready to go.
It’s really when I’m up late at night staring at the ceiling that I think I’m wasting time. Tick, tock, tick tock, there is much to do. White rabbit syndrome, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late for an important date.” Yet knowing there is just so much I can do in a day. After writing this blog out, I’ll be off to write my errand list for tomorrow…and try really hard to remember that tomorrow night I’m going to see Jack White in concert. SWEET!!
[Upcoming Event]
I’ve been invited to read one of my poems at the New York Times VOCES Affinity Group Event for Hispanic Heritage Month on October 10, 5:30-8:30 pm at 620 Eighth Ave. New York, NY 10018. Open to the public. Palabras, Ritmo y Arte A Celebration of Latino Poetry, Music And Art Featuring spoken word artists, musicians and a mixed media artists gallery showcasing the vibrant words and art of Latinos from the Tristate area.
Have an amazing Friday!
Peace,
L~
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
And now back to our regularly scheduled program
Dark heavy clouds skim across the horizon.
Damp wind on a warm day does not soothe
Instead it leaves behind an oily film on one’s skin.
Anyway, I spent the weekend with family and friends having good food and decent wine. Very chilled out indeed. Of course there is always a bit of drama but for now we will forgo details since they are not mine to share...or better yet they can be used against us in a court of law. (teehee).
Moving on, went to see this really sweet and charming indie movie called Robot and Frank. I have to admit if there is a tiny bit of sci-fi element to a movie, I want to see it. I strong-armed a friend to come with...promising a pitcher of sangria. Robot and Frank is written by Christopher Ford and directed by Jake Schreier. This movie surprised me, the humor in it was so right on that I laughed out loud quite a few times. It also has a big beating heart right smack in the middle of it that brought up a few tears up. Frank Langella and Susan Sarandon were marvelous...and it has a tiny twist that I just wasn’t expecting that raised the human element of it. Lovely. This is a debut project for both writer and director and I can’t wait to see more from them.
I finished Highsmith’s novel Deep Water, it was so intense that I had a hard time putting the book down for the last couple of chapters. I had to sneak off on tiny breaks, at work, because I wanted to know what happened next. The story was haunting and cruel. I was going to jump into yet another novel but opted instead to read Andrew Wilson’s biography on Highsmith, Beautiful Shadow. Reading about her life and her creative process both inspires me and haunts me at the same time. She wrote about herself and her work with the same impatience that I have for my own. In reading excerpt passages from her diaries, Highsmith feels like a kindred spirit. She was a voracious reader with a keen intellect who looked upon the human condition as fodder for her novels, especially when dealing with deviant behavior. She was also vastly unhappy, emotionally removed and seeking more than just peace. I am barely 100 pages into the biography and her impatience has fired up my own desperation for more time to work on my novel. Funny how that works.
All for now...skipping off to take a walk around Bryant Park. It's a nice break to clear the cobwebs.
Peace,
L~
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Morning Poem
The sky is open with rain today
eyelids flutter with sleep, unprepared
for pinched straps, tight subway cars, wet shoes
plod on grey carpets leaving behind
dewy prints and bloody mary drops
exhaled sighs, elastic images
stretch across dark green sight losing sea
a thirsty mouth will not soon forget
the taste of clean water on dry lips.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
eyelids flutter with sleep, unprepared
for pinched straps, tight subway cars, wet shoes
plod on grey carpets leaving behind
dewy prints and bloody mary drops
exhaled sighs, elastic images
stretch across dark green sight losing sea
a thirsty mouth will not soon forget
the taste of clean water on dry lips.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2012 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Friday, December 2, 2011
A Tasty Morsel
You can now download a digital copy of my book of poetry onto your Nook via Barnes and Noble:
A Scorched Page
It didn’t include page count but it’s roughly 65 pages long.
Pass the word along.
Peace,
Lily~
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Writing Group Results
So the results are in: my writing group loved one and the other one they didn't know what to make of it. Hehehe. I will be fair and say that out of a 27 line poem, they were unanimous in the love-fest for the last five lines. Interesting. So now comes the fine balancing act between taking feedback and making decisions on this piece called Circle, Holding Pattern. Hmmmm. Not sure yet how I'm going to move forward on it. I think I need to sit quietly with it and see where it goes. I am attaching below the first draft of this poem below. I'm also making a mental note that when I've revised the piece to show what came of it on this blog.
******
Enjoy,
Lily~
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Circle, Holding Pattern
Five points away from each other
thin rain mists stranger faces
We are three walking the dark
travel logs in back pockets
youth with an order of fries
everywhere kissing bodies
collapse upon each others
reminds me of the mess we’re in
fractured lyrics play over again
the bridge, swan dive at dawn,
straight high walker
misses footing, we’re calm
until you pick up a human tooth
slip into a pocket for safekeeping,
remember when you OD’d
you reminded me to breathe,
strum suspension wires, rhythm
promise to throw out the next poem
about rain no matter where we wind up
black ashes and oil, across your forehead
ten lives out of my mind, good fortune
too fancy in copper bowls, metal growls
echo, collect as voicemail messages
all our lives are hidden in pieces
on hand-held devices, our deities sleep
in white shrouds, compacted beneath
our bare feet, seclusion without faith.
******
Enjoy,
Lily~
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Appetite
You pass against the widening current
anticipate being swept up and captured
whirlpool of consumption, money makes
the world go round, boil over with hungry
empty mouths, yearn to be made whole
with one more item added to the collection
to separate yourself further from the sump
of destitution, you long to be complete.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
anticipate being swept up and captured
whirlpool of consumption, money makes
the world go round, boil over with hungry
empty mouths, yearn to be made whole
with one more item added to the collection
to separate yourself further from the sump
of destitution, you long to be complete.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The beginning of something...
You watch the moving river
search for patterns, mark
meaning out of sun rays
breaking past dark clouds
winds promise warmer days
sultry whisper, unloosening
the knot, love was an easier
game to play, green windows
breakable with pebble throws,
barely holding it together
evaporating in traffic din...
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
search for patterns, mark
meaning out of sun rays
breaking past dark clouds
winds promise warmer days
sultry whisper, unloosening
the knot, love was an easier
game to play, green windows
breakable with pebble throws,
barely holding it together
evaporating in traffic din...
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Winter: Pot Bound
Purple blossoms wither
fold upon yellow anthers
damp soil, jealous skies
tinted windows conspire
to encase the masses
organized in vertical
cubicles and Gucci
running knots, a red
balloon floats outside
long white strand
loose slopes, follows
along, steady higher
past the icy snow
frozen in the corners
of building tops that
careen down, shatter
across sidewalks
glittering fragments.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
fold upon yellow anthers
damp soil, jealous skies
tinted windows conspire
to encase the masses
organized in vertical
cubicles and Gucci
running knots, a red
balloon floats outside
long white strand
loose slopes, follows
along, steady higher
past the icy snow
frozen in the corners
of building tops that
careen down, shatter
across sidewalks
glittering fragments.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
An Air of Abandonment
While a cup of tea grows cold
cops with assault rifles stand
on the corner of Broadway
we are meant to feel safe
their presence, my teeth on
edge, passing in a wide berth
broad smiles for the camera
tourists click, shutter, and stand
behind the metal partitions
there is safety in numbers
how many exactly will calm
the mob mentality on a threat-
level-orange winter day?
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
cops with assault rifles stand
on the corner of Broadway
we are meant to feel safe
their presence, my teeth on
edge, passing in a wide berth
broad smiles for the camera
tourists click, shutter, and stand
behind the metal partitions
there is safety in numbers
how many exactly will calm
the mob mentality on a threat-
level-orange winter day?
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Precious Poems
Delicate lyrical lines
float on tippy-toes
satin ballet shoes
across an empty page.
Spoken in feathery-
light hushed tones
Skin easily bruised
like a ripe peach
against a fingernail.
Presence caresses
nuances so subtle,
it does not ripple.
Here comes a careless
stamp that throttles
the wordscape
with empty threats
and balled fists.
Here comes the voice
thunder awake
the sleeping poet
pointing to this
and that. Look
purple flowers
creeping vine
around a wooden pole.
Do something with that.
Look a clock outside
is never on time. Write
about that. Precious
muted standing amid
Times Square’s cacophony .
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
float on tippy-toes
satin ballet shoes
across an empty page.
Spoken in feathery-
light hushed tones
Skin easily bruised
like a ripe peach
against a fingernail.
Presence caresses
nuances so subtle,
it does not ripple.
Here comes a careless
stamp that throttles
the wordscape
with empty threats
and balled fists.
Here comes the voice
thunder awake
the sleeping poet
pointing to this
and that. Look
purple flowers
creeping vine
around a wooden pole.
Do something with that.
Look a clock outside
is never on time. Write
about that. Precious
muted standing amid
Times Square’s cacophony .
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Glass Towers
Tic-tac bites make me sneeze
A watched clock stops,
second hand moves in
ten-minute increments
thick clouds creep
past a city canyon
fire-engine horns
scream down Broad-
way and breaks
the hushed tones
of money and Wall
Street streaming
updates. We breathe
underwater, submerged
a pool of crumbling
privilege. The sky
is falling, the sky
is falling but Mary
Poppins is frozen on
a Disney ad outside
the window. All we
can do is watch.
Poems are not precious,
they are lifelines
for the drowning.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
A watched clock stops,
second hand moves in
ten-minute increments
thick clouds creep
past a city canyon
fire-engine horns
scream down Broad-
way and breaks
the hushed tones
of money and Wall
Street streaming
updates. We breathe
underwater, submerged
a pool of crumbling
privilege. The sky
is falling, the sky
is falling but Mary
Poppins is frozen on
a Disney ad outside
the window. All we
can do is watch.
Poems are not precious,
they are lifelines
for the drowning.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
A Bend in the Landscape
There is something
delicious in disappearing
listening to the wind
leaves scrape dry
against frosted earth
sun descends behind
cloud cover
fingertips chilled
crows caw
a dose of cold air.
A walk, thin veil of rain
unravels thoughts
onto naked branches
crackle gravel road
grey clouds race
waves of swaying trees
bend the landscape.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Misdirection and Chili
A breeze comes in
the earth damp
from last night’s rain
meet the blank page
in a procrastinating way.
Asian ladybugs skitter
against the window pane.
Sky full of puffy clouds
while tea brews
a love story falls
between the cracks
of the wooden floor.
Fishing line and wormy
baits are needed to lure
the words out.
Pretend tenderness.
There is strain, hem
and haw, spirals and
circles to loosen up
misdirection and chili,
watch birds,
wring words from
hungry hands paint
a stark land bright
like the scent of pine
trees on a cat’s fur coat.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Particulates
Clouds do not move today
hover low without raining
A blue jay turns dry leaves
flips them away
add words to a page.
A black crow perches
on a white picket fence
dark shadows in the corner.
Dry hands if rub together
sounds like sandpaper
Eastern Bluebird flew up
bright indigo against brown leaves.
Keep moving and stretching,
restless energy starts to sneak up,
a mosquito flies into the window
over and over again. Mix medias,
make them new again. Atrophied
muscles are being used. Venus
barks and howls outside.
Homemade blackberry jam
with creamy butter on bread.
Altra takes a catnap stretched
across a worktable and books.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Let it be an Elegy on an Empty Stage
A breeze comes in a chilled manner
birds glide in stream lines across
the earth damp from last night’s rain.
Heavy storm clouds move in this direction
seek shelter beneath the house, a crawl space.
Intimidated meeting the blank page
ramble without much direction
icy fingers start to ache
follow behind, pulled along by a thin line
a bright blue sky past large white clouds.
There is something beautiful in a sky full of fluffy clouds
Tea is brewing, I wish there was a couch I can curl up on and write from
My heart hurts, it feels wounded… tight achy spots
too many years of grief rolls me up into a tight little ball
These days my body pushes back. It’s 12:07 and I am blank.
I feel a little isolated and lonely at the moment
What do you want the story to be about?
About love and utter desolation.
You can’t keep skirting this loss
An empty stage
Start with a woman
putting a chair off center
at an angle and go from there.
You will know how to fill the space
once you start. She would be silent.
Why? A sign of repression, self-hatred.
darkness starts looking into you as well
What is the pain level these days?
Walks in the woods, the large open space,
sun prickling my skin turning it pink when it peeks out,
wind in my hair, large puffy clouds overhead,
pulling me out of the dark and twisty place from time to time.
I put the chili on the stove to warm up and grated cheddar cheese to top it.
Ill-equipped to write something meaningful and worthwhile
Art is not about thinking something up. It is about …getting something down.
I strain, hem and haw, procrastinate, write in circles. A spiral of misdirection.
Avoiding this lonely time
Avoiding the empty page
Just keep putting words on a page
Resistance is futile
Dim afternoon light mostly covered by clouds.
Asian ladybugs skitter across the tabletop,
keep the creepy crawlies in check.
Altra, the cat, smells of pines needles
seated on the floor beside my chair
with her back towards me standing guard.
Stark trees look like reaching hungry hands
against the grey skies. A large mug of milky
sweet earl grey tea to keep the memories at bay.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2010 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Afternoon Light, December
the marshy path
to find faerie woods
where hardy vines
have kept their green,
it's warmer here
than the rest of the land
as the hills block the winds.
Ice is wrapped around
the base of a plant,
the water folded upon itself
to create loops of ice.
They shine where light
skims the outer face
and we are unable
to translate it onto film,
where the magic disappears.
Milkweed blossoms
glide lightly on the edge
of air in natural motion,
the monarchs who feed
upon it have long ago
departed south-bound.
Crimson and golden hues
brighten a brown stark path.
The frosted earth
crackles beneath our feet
and you are lost
in thoughts of departures,
unable to break away
from the afternoon light.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
A Piece about Space
A physical space, four walls, some windows
Mine. My own. It was up there, on the last floor
overlooking Inwood park. A studio, enough room
for a bed (that converted to a sofa), a red desk with
its red chair (facing out the largest window), four book
shelves and two media shelves heaped high,
spilling over with music and books.
Today, on this day, my space is down there, beneath the earth,
a basement room without windows. It is dark, very dark and I lose
track of time. It encases the same desk and the same bed, that's all
it can manage. My footrest is a stool where my fat black cat sleeps.
My desk is heaped high with books, files, papers and a laptop, hidden
beneath precarious piles. It's mine, my very own but I have to creep
around late at night so as not to wake up the folks. It’s a tight fit as
the whole house rests over my head.
A notebook and a pen is all that's needed. The room,
the physical space is a luxury. Time is a luxury.
Steal moments, and hours, and seconds, and minutes
between classes, between jobs, between sleep
to gather up nomad phrases that ruminate
and hum in the background. Pick, pick, pick the fruit
of the tree. Take nibbling bites, gaping bites, hoping to encase
the phrase before it drops away, back into the landscape.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Mine. My own. It was up there, on the last floor
overlooking Inwood park. A studio, enough room
for a bed (that converted to a sofa), a red desk with
its red chair (facing out the largest window), four book
shelves and two media shelves heaped high,
spilling over with music and books.
Today, on this day, my space is down there, beneath the earth,
a basement room without windows. It is dark, very dark and I lose
track of time. It encases the same desk and the same bed, that's all
it can manage. My footrest is a stool where my fat black cat sleeps.
My desk is heaped high with books, files, papers and a laptop, hidden
beneath precarious piles. It's mine, my very own but I have to creep
around late at night so as not to wake up the folks. It’s a tight fit as
the whole house rests over my head.
A notebook and a pen is all that's needed. The room,
the physical space is a luxury. Time is a luxury.
Steal moments, and hours, and seconds, and minutes
between classes, between jobs, between sleep
to gather up nomad phrases that ruminate
and hum in the background. Pick, pick, pick the fruit
of the tree. Take nibbling bites, gaping bites, hoping to encase
the phrase before it drops away, back into the landscape.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
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