Pen Bleeds

Music is a universal language that speaks when words of the heart whisper in muted tones. Open your ears and listen to the message that translates desires of dancing souls.’

The easiest and most effective way of reaching out to people and spreading a message is through the power of music: to create harmonious sound, to tell a story through lyrics and inspire new avenues of approaching life around us.  A great song has the ability to connect with you, taking you on a roller coaster of highs and lows, providing a glimpse into the artist thoughts and emotions.  But have you ever wondered about the writing process or how the lyrics to your favorite song came to life?

Every song has a back story that serves as an inciting cause of its creation. One song that captivates my curiosity about the story behind the lyrics is the summer hit Wake me up. This gem produced  by Swedish house newcomer Avicii, and written by the talented Aloe Blacc, who supply’s the tracks soulful vocals embraces a coming of  age. The melody inspired by country blue grass roots, takes you to a place of euphoric nostalgia, creating a sense of serenity and unadulterated freedom. I imagine when Aloe Blacc wrote the lyrics to Wake me up, he rescinded to a time in his life where he was lost in the wilderness, torn between adolescence and maturity.

Think about this… when we were children the greater responsibilities of life fell on our parent’s shoulders, leaving us to roam free without a care in the world. But as we grew up and transitioned into adulthood, we discovered that the world is a cold and lonely place where only the strong survive. Making that grand leap into adult hood is challenging and scary for every young person. So if you’re not sure about your journey, it’s quite all right don’t fret. Were all feeling our way through the darkness searching for the light.

In the spirit of poetry, I’ve written an expanded triolet poem that encapsulates the back story of Avicii’s Wake me up. This is my first attempt at writing a back poem to a song that inspires me, but I think I’ve captured the bitter sweet struggle between growing older and holding on to days of our youth.

Time of Remembrance

Wake me up when it’s all over

Parents lecturing, teenage mayhem

Fear of fantasies turning sober

Wake me up when it’s all over

Count the hours life grows colder

all these memories fade to black

Wake me up when it’s all over

Parents lecturing, teenage mayhem


Wish I could stay forever young

 Childlike innocence roaming free

Languishing in vivid dreams unsung

Wish I could stay forever young

Bliss is ignorance on the devils tongue

red or blue pill down the hatch

Wish I could stay forever young

Childlike innocence roaming free

© Seven Magazine

The Pen Bleeds

“The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.”

~Albert Camus

Photo Credit:-Photo Credit:

Gwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks was born on Sunday, June 17, 1917 in Topeka, Kansas to David and Keziah Brooks, the descendants of field slaves. Both of her parents were native to the sunflower state, but eventually migrated to Chicago’s South  Side, where they raised Gwendolyn and her younger brother Raymond.

Her love for poetry stemmed from both parents, who began encouraging their daughter’s creative and intellectual side by having her read and recite poems, at a young age. David Brooks advised his children to use education as a tool to overcome racism, hardships, and other challenges confronted by blacks growing up in the great depression era. No doubt, her parent’s tutelage was influential, priming Gwendolyn for the literary scene, which became a significant part of her life.

At the age of 16, Brooks reached a milestone where her talents became noticed by established Harlem Renaissance writers such as James Johnson and Langston Hughes. Johnson encouraged her to read modern poets to hone her skills and Hughes praised her talents and pushed her to continue writing.  Acting on Johnson’s advice, she began studying authors such as T.S. Elliot, E.E. Cummings, Emily Dickinson, and Ezra Pound who all had some type of influence on her creative process.

Receiving the outside endorsement of two prolific writers, and a few teachers, she felt others were beginning to take her work seriously. Brooks began publishing her poetry in the Chicago Defender, a black newspaper, and by the time she turned 19, the paper had published precisely seventy-five of her poems.

Brook’s went on to develop an effectual emotional style of writing, painting a real and jarring picture of the condition of blacks in America.  This was during a time when the “black experience” was foreign to a majority of her audience, which happened to be middle class whites. Writing under the auspices of writers such as T.S. Elliot, in a questioning tone of modernism, placed Gwendolyn ahead of her time and at unique advantage over other poets in her genre. Her work was black in content but traditionally white in style, addressing the lives of everyday African-Americans, the struggles with racism, poverty, black pride, and the exploitation of women.

In 1950, Gwendolyn Brooks became the first African-American to win a Pulitzer Prize for Annie Allen, a masterpiece, which chronicles the journey of an African-American girl growing into adulthood. Throughout her career, Brooks was bestowed with several accolades, over seventy honorary degrees, and awards due to the subject matter acknowledged in her writing. She was able to capture the multifarious linguistic dance of rhyme and meter, with a devotion to consciously create original verse that portrayed challenges and triumphs of blacks through many periods. Her poems breathe life into a race of people at a time where being a minority was perceived as unwelcoming and bleak. On December 3, 2000, at the age of 83, Brooks lost her battle with cancer. As time goes on, I’m sure she will be revered as both activist and writer who had the ability to proactively change the world through her magnificent and expressive work.

Below are a compilation of poems that capture Brook’s spirit through many life experiences and ever-changing perspectives on race issues, pride, class, and gender.  Some poems are gritty and straight forward, while others are simplistic in nature, but nevertheless complex and compelling in thought. I also contribute an original piece inspired by Brooks writing. Thank you for reading The Pen Bleeds.

Do Not Be Afraid of No

Do not be afraid of no,
Who has so very far to go”:

New caution to occur
To one whose inner scream set her to cede, for softer lapping and smooth fur!

Whose esoteric need
Was merely to avoid the nettle, to not bleed.

Stupid, like a street
That beats into a dead end and dies there, with nothing left to reprimand or meet.

And like a candle fixed
Against dismay and countershine of mixed

Wild moon and sun. And like
A flying furniture, or bird with lattice wing; or gaunt thing, a-stammer down a nightmare
neon peopled with condor, hawk and shrike.

To say yes is to die
A lot or a little. The dead wear capably their wry

Enameled emblems. They smell.
But that and that they do not altogether yell is all that we know well.

It is brave to be involved,
To be not fearful to be unresolved.

Her new wish was to smile
When answers took no airships, walked a while.

Gwendolyn Brooks


Beauty has a coldness
That keeps you very warm.
“If I run out to see the clouds,
That will be no harm!”

So Ella left her oatmeal
And fleecy coat behind
And ran into the winter
Where there were clouds to find.

Mother-dear went following,
But reprimand was mild.
She knew that clouds taste better than
Oats to a little child.

-Gwendolyn Brooks

John, Who Is Poor

Oh, little children, be good to John!
Who lives so lone and alone.
Whose Mama must hurry to toil all day.
Whose Papa is dead and done.

Give him a berry, boys, when you may.
And, girls, some mint when you can.
And do not ask when his hunger will end,
Nor yet when it began.

-Gwendolyn Brooks


Everbody here
Is infirm.
Everybody here is infirm.
Oh. Mend me. Mend me. Lord.

Today I
Say to them
Say to them
Say to them, Lord:
Look! I am beautiful, beautiful with
My wing that is wounded
My eye that is bonded
Or my ear not funded
Or my walk all a-wobble.
I’m enough to be beautiful.

You are
beautiful too.

-Gwendolyn Brooks

To Those Of My Sisters Who Kept Their Naturals 

I love you.
Because you love you.
Because you are erect.
Because you are also bent.
In season, stern, kind.
Crisp, soft -in season.
And you withhold.
And you extend.
And you Step out.
And you go back.
And you extend again.
Your eyes, loud-soft, with crying and
with smiles,
are older than a million years.
And they are young.
You reach, in season.
You subside, in season.
below the rich rough right time of your hair.

You have not bought Blondine.
You have not hailed the hot-comb recently.
You never worshiped Marilyn Monroe.
You say: Farrah’s hair is hers.
You have not wanted to be white.
Nor have you testified to adoration of that
State with advertisement of imitation.
(never successful because the hot-comb is laughing too.)
But oh, the rough dark Other, Music!
the Real,
the Right.
The natural Respect of Self and Seal!
Your hair is Celebration in the world!

-Gwendolyn Brooks

to the Diaspora

you did not know you were Afrika

When you set out for Afrika
you did not know you were going.
you did not know you were Afrika.
You did not know the Black continent
that had to be reached
was you.

I could not have told you then that some sun
would come,
somewhere over the road,
would come evoking the diamonds
of you, the Black continent–
somewhere over the road.
You would not have believed my mouth.

When I told you, meeting you somewhere close
to the heat and youth of the road,
liking my loyalty, liking belief,
you smiled and you thanked me but very little believed me.

Here is some sun. Some.
Now off into the places rough to reach.
Though dry, though drowsy, all unwillingly a-wobble,
into the dissonant and dangerous crescendo.
Your work, that was done, to be done to be done to be done.

-Gwendolyn Brooks

The Homeless Condition

To be homeless
Is to roam the streets at night.
In your loneliness, you are beside yourself.
You see things
Through urban eyes.
A taxi is yellow.
A rat is grey.
A working girl is turning tricks.
Unexpectedly the city knows what you know too.
In every dank alley she is there
And there you stand
Braving a bitter reality together.
Freezing winters, hungry nights
She blankets you in corrugated scraps.
A sadness too much to endure.
She hesitates to look you in the eye
Because your pain is too familiar.
When she pretends
You’re not there
Then turns her back
And walks away,
Your crutch breaks,
Under pressure,
An infinite melancholy.
You are the indigent half
Of a contemptible metropolis.
You reminisce on days gone by
Of simple pleasures
Taken for granted.
To eat plenty,
To bathe well,
To sleep comfortably,
And have a home;
Luxuries to the have not’s.
But she still walks
With blinders on.
An intentional dilemma
Of the human condition.
To watch you lie there
On cracked sidewalks
A fixed structure
Wasting away.

K.S. Pratt

© Seven Magazine

The Pen Bleeds

Are you a believer in UFO’s, little green men, humanoids or other unexplained creatures? Maybe you’ve experienced or saw something that can’t be explained. Skeptics discount the phenomena of alien abductions and sightings as nothing more than vivid dreams or fantasies. They believe such occurrences are fueled by individuals who are attention seeking, or people who may suffer from an issue of psychosis or a side effect of heavy drug abuse. As for me I am a believer. The world is more than black and white; it consists of uncharted gray areas, which account for events that cannot be rationalized by logic alone.

To help guide us through the realm of strange beings and happenings, I interviewed international humanoid and alien expert Albert Rosales. He provides us with a more in depth look on the subject matter, and opened about his own personal experiences with aliens and UFO’s.


Q&A with Albert Rosalesalbert

Seven: Good evening! How did you become involved in the education and research of UFO, extraterrestrial, and other strange beings?

Albert Rosales: Hello! The main reason for my involvement in this sometimes taboo subject I have to say has been personal experience, since a young boy living in Santa Clara, Cuba I have experienced strange episodes, from seeing strange creatures, to being missing for a time, loud booms in the sky, strange dreams, bedroom visitations by shadowy beings, etc. I strive to remember everything, but I have never been hypnotically regressed by a professional.

I believe that everyone that has experienced a close encounter with a strange being or suffered any other type of anomalous experience should come forward and make it public, let everyone know. I think is important, the more people that come out (out of the alien close if you will) the more acceptance there will be. Most are afraid of ridicule, becoming social outcasts, prejudice, and of course work issues. I don’t blame them, people have been fired from their jobs for coming forward and telling the world of their experiences, not to mention the psychological trauma and sometimes physical trauma. But I think talking about it to others is a kind of helpful therapy.

I am currently involved in compiling a one of kind database of anomalous experiences, mostly entity or humanoid encounters of ALL types, including the so-called abductions. I have over 17,000 case summaries so far and growing daily. I have cases from every corner of the globe, many translated by myself, sometimes with the help of automatic internet translation engines like (Lexilogos). I have written many articles and journals and my work is known in many parts of the world. I feel a personal satisfaction that I am performing a job that is important and would be even more important in the future.

Seven: The database you’ve compiled on encounters and such is it readily available for public inquiry?

Albert Rosales:  Yes, my complete database is available on CD per request to me or I can provide a list of case summaries per year. Also many of the case summaries are available for viewing at the site, go to research and humanoid database for the information.

Seven: What is the most interesting documented case of alien encounters or abductions you have on file?

Albert Rosales: When we are talking about alleged alien encounters or abductions, I must point out that ALL are extremely ‘interesting’ to say the least. It’s very difficult to point out a single case that outshines all the others. There are many however which are well known, like the Betty & Barney Hill abduction of September 1961 (one of the first documented cases of alleged alien abduction) the Pascagoula Mississippi abduction of two men in October 1973, the famous Travis Walton abduction of November 1975, and many others.

Seven: Do you believe the public will ever accept the alleged existence of other worldly beings?

Albert Rosales: Many in the public yes, many have already, I don’t know about the public in general, the uninformed masses, the clergy, the religious zealots, perhaps slowly and surely there will be total acceptance to the concept of ‘others’ amongst us.

Seven: How have your experiences with extraterrestrials and UFO research impacted your personal life or life in general?

Albert Rosales: This subject matter has been a sort of an obsession for me since a very young age, and has not been kind. I have had several experiences myself, mostly as a young man. I think my first two marriages suffered as a result of my studies or my “hobby” if you will. I have spent much more money than I have made that’s for sure. I feel content and that I am doing something important

Seven: Many people are skeptical about UFO’s, aliens, and other creature’s existence due to lack of concrete proof they exist. What are your thoughts on close minded individuals who deny this type of phenomena?

Albert Rosales: Well, billions worldwide believe in a God, and yet they have never seen him. Proof is  a double edged sword, perhaps we do have proof, the US government allegedly recovered at least one crashed UFO or spacecraft back in 1947, maybe other countries have as well, but would they shared that information with the flock? I don’t think so. Many, the aliens or whoever they might be will never allow concrete proof to be shared among the masses, maybe there is logic to it, I don’t know. But I can only speak as a result of personal experience and years of research.

Seven: If you were given the opportunity to travel other galaxies with humanoids would you? What type of questions would you ask and how would that experience be used to educate the people of earth?

Albert Rosales: I would welcome the opportunity to travel to other worlds and realms, and learn from others with far greater capacities than ourselves, from others that hopefully have learned to overcome hate, racism, prejudices, and all those other ills that affect humanity. One question will be, who is God, what is God, I know there is a God, but is it their God, is it the same God?

Seven:  So, do you believe aliens practice a religion or are they an advanced race of beings that have a direct path to God?

Albert Rosales: That’s hard to say, since at times they themselves have been considered “Gods” here on Earth. But I believe that they worship a ‘higher being’ or power or maybe a cosmic energy.

Seven: Once people set aside their fears of the unknown, do you believe it possible for humans, aliens, and other beings to co- exist?

Albert Rosales: You hit the nail on the head; fear of the unknown is what holds us back. I think once humanity ascends or grows and humans are accepted by others in the Universe, it would definitely be possible to live together, just like those famous Sci-Fi films we all have learn to love. We will be part of the greater galactic community if you will, but as of right now I think we are not evolved enough, we are not quite ready.

Albert Rosales was born in Santa Clara Cuba on January 14 1958, migrated to Spain with his family in 1966 and then to the United States in 1967. He lived in NY (Bronx) and then like most Cuban immigrants at the time ended up in Miami. He attended Coral Gable Sr. High, and afterwards he joined the Navy and became a Radioman (Top Secret Clearance) after four years received an Honorable Discharge and went to work with his father who was an excellent jeweler (Seyboldt Building) Downtown Miami.

For more information on Albert Rosales please visit:

Expression of poetry through art using arranged text in a funky order or shape and pictures or symbols that express a deliberate point of view is called visual poetry. Usually poetry and art tends to be subjective to the creator, sometimes it’s relatable to others, but that depends on the observer’s point of view.  Check out the pieces below.

Fear Aliens


K.S. Pratt

My Shadow


Jennifer Phillips © 2009

The Promise

marriage visual4

K.S. Pratt ©



K.S. Pratt © 



J.K. Phillips © 2012

Excerpt: The White Fires of Venus


 Denis Johnson © 1994


Over Thinking


© 2013 Seven Magazine

The Pen Bleeds

Welcome to The Pen Bleeds where poetry is more than rhyme, more than reason, more than words flowing with rhythm; it’s a combination of jagged thoughts, feelings, actions, and a unique language opening minds to see the world from a different perspective.

This Months Featured Poet: Dr. Zoë A. Lewis LewisZoeAnn

This month’s feature is an amazing woman! It is a great honor featuring Dr. Zoë A. Lewis a writer who’s passionate words have the ability to melt the core of the coldest hearts. Her inspiration for penning Poetic Penumbra were African, Asian, and Indo-European muses and goddesses known to incite creativity in poets. In addition to that, Dr. Lewis has racked up several degrees and accomplishments, proving, through resilience and perseverance women can accomplish anything. But don’t be intimidated shes quite humble. We posed seven questions to better familiarize our readers about her influential role models and passion for uplifting women.

Q&A with Dr. Zoë A. Lewis

Seven: What is your definition of a strong woman?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: ‘Beautiful woman fights’. My graffiti girl in a favela of Rio De Janeiro says it all.   A strong woman was a young girl that learned how to fight for herself and her beliefs.  All women need to fight prejudice, free their minds and then keep themselves free from being enslaved by what others around her believe a woman should be, in any society.  A young woman creates her unique sense of ‘self worth’. Her self-confidence and inner beauty grace the world because she is strong enough to be gentle; she can give her love freely without fear.   

Seven: Who are your heroines and how have they impacted your life?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: How about my ‘favorite’ heroines because there are too many!

Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham, legends of the modern dance movement. I studied dance for years and dreamed once to be a professional dancer. These women were emblematic of freedom and breaking traditions in art, and dance like all things, becomes conventional once its established.  They were leaders in their day because they found a way to capture our emotions with dance movements that were liberated from tradition. Lead, don’t follow was what I captured.

Rosa Parks, Human rights activist.  I grew up during a time of protests and civil unrest – the Vietnam War was on TV every night, and race riots were happening too. Those older than me were protesting in the streets, often with violence. This gentle woman’s nonviolent defiance showed me everyone could challenge the system when it was wrong. I was 13 when I  rode on one of those first desegregated school buses and went to an integrated high school outside of Philadelphia.  Parks’ efforts were relevant to my worldview, teaching me stand up and be heard.

Emilie du Châtelet, French mathematician and physicist  from 1700’s. I didn’t have one female professor in a hard science or mathematics in my undergraduate courses or in medical school in Italy.  I wanted a mentor that was also hot!  This lady was not only brilliant, (she corrected a theory of Newton on kinetic energy), she convinced men to accept her into their intellectual circle when virtually women had none such freedoms. Voltaire, one of her many lovers, declared in a letter to his friend King Frederick II of Prussia that du Châtelet was “a great man whose only fault was being a woman.”  I reckoned like her, it was totally awesome to be smart and sexy and enjoy my woman’s body and mind, no need to be just one of the boys.

Sophia Loren – I lived in Rome, Italy for over ten years, Italian is my language of love.   Sophia Loren’s characters in her films inspired me when I was an ingénue in my twenties to focus on what counts as I became a woman. I wanted to be like her as a mother, lover, wife, friend, comedian, confidant, spaghetti-cooking temptress. But of course, for me, I wanted to be all of  them at once – an Italian multiple personality sex symbol –  and  a serious medical student. It was really fun trying.

Seven: What type of literature, influences, or experiences drives you to create written word?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: I was plastered in books most of my life because books grew my imagination and grew my knowledge.  I started to write for others by the time I was in high school, jamming out essays on the floor of the girls bathroom for kids who hadn’t done their assignments, after I’d bartered for something. I simply loved to read and write using my imagination. The force behind writing my Alzheimer’s books came after I was incredibly moved by the loss of an individual with dementia. I wanted to help caregivers, so shared what I knew. That project was a labor of love and compassion. Crazy abandoned love makes us all poets under its influence, whether we write or not – in love, we are all poets.

Seven: Can you share with our readers a time where you called upon your inner strength to encourage and inspire someone?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: When I go to work,  each day I start out, I call upon myself to give up wisdom, skills, and bend my ego towards the needs of my patient. I try to encourage every one of them towards health. Often I take care of drug addicts, shackled criminals, homeless folks, people who are sick that break others around them and break themselves.  I look past whoever they are, whatever they have done and try to be present and in the presence of the individual that is in front of me.  I try to inspire them with the reality that love does exist, caring people do exist. I teach that self love starts each of us on the path to our own healing.

Seven: You channeled numerous female goddesses for inspiration to write Poetic Penumbra. What methods or rituals do you use to tap into your creative goddess?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: I don’t have any rituals but I practice yoga and work on getting myself still and open to feel beyond what I can see. Of course making love, while being in love, is the greatest way to tap into my creative space, and the poets through time know this. The poetry collection was unusual because I was semiconscious, half asleep when I wrote it. Around 4 am I kept waking up with these words in my head, I just had to write them down. Seemed to me at the time , the energy of  muses, goddesses in spirit were present guiding my imaginative experiences. Love and the art of lovemaking, tapping into ones sensuality, creativity, never seemed more enchanted. I surrendered and let the feelings pour in  and was suddenly able to write without thinking. I blossomed like a big fat peony and exploded pollen poetry.

Seven: What in your life has bought you or given you the greatest satisfaction or fulfillment?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: Helping patients to die peacefully.  I did hospice work for many years and of course still do when the need arises.  To know you helped someone by easing their pain, any kind of pain, and then guide them and their loved ones, as far as any of  us can offer guidance up to the  moment we ‘cross over’- a nice euphemism for dying – is just beyond words.  To be filled with compassion  and see a final peace and love overcome them, see it in their eyes, that is the greatest gift I’ve been given.

Seven: Women’s roles in the community have drastically transitioned over the past forty years. How have these changes affected you? How can we improve upon those changes to create a better society?

Dr. Zoë A. Lewis: I am fortunate to be standing on the shoulders of giants that came before me.  My mother did not have the opportunities that I did, her generation and her mother’s before her were  removing obstacles for women.  I am blessed to be exquisitely, unapologetically, unequivocally my own person, able to determine my own path. But we have a lot of work to do if women are still kept from a basic education,  sold like animals into slavery, and female infanticide prevents her born life  in many parts of the world still today. These are current horrors.  We can be the giants for the next generation and mentor other girls to do the same: break rules, break traditions, become self-aware and free their minds from anyone who dictates what a girl or woman should be. We need to teach by example, be what you want to be and fight for it.

Zoë Ann Lewis, MD, FACP   is a nationally recognized Internal Medicine and Hospice and Palliative Medicine physician, speaker, published author, travel writer, photographer, poet, radio show host and healthcare education activist.

She has an undergraduate degree in Biology with departmental honors from Temple University in Philadelphia. She got her medical degree, summa cum laude, from the Università degli Studi di Roma -La Sapienza  Facoltà di Medicina e Chirurgia.  Her graduate doctoral thesis research on melanoma was published in 1993, Oncology.  She completed  her medicine residency at the University of Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania Hospital. She won a post graduate scholarship for research on parasites at the Mahidol University, Bangkok, Thailand 1994. She was elected to the honorary society of American College of Physicians as a Fellow, FACP. She has other numerous awards and medical publications.

She’s an acclaimed speaker on hospice issues, and received national recognition from the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization for her leadership role in the development of new programs for hospice care and end stage dementia patients.  She produces and hosts the  30 minute  radio program,  ‘Hope Through Knowledge Radio for Caregivers’ on blog talk radio, guests from the NHPCO, AARP, national aging and elder care organizations, and award winning authors.  She has presented at the National Council on Aging, American Society on Aging and National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization as a faculty speaker.

She is the author of three books.:  “I hope they know….The Essential Handbook of Alzheimer’s Disease and Care, ” a listed resource with the National Alzheimer’s Association,  and the Spanish translation, “La  Guía Holística para la Enfermedad de Alzheimer”, and Poetic Penumbra.

Her websites,  and, are sites  dedicated to “Hope Through Knowledge,” promoting physician and community education on Alzheimer’s disease and end-of-life care.

Dr. Zoë has 16 years of experience as an internist and hospitalist. She was the Corporate Medical Doctor for Beacon Hospice and Palliative Care, Inc.,(the largest hospice in New England and  she is one of the first certified HPM specialists in the country.)

She held academic positions as Associate Professor of Medicine at Harvard School of Medicine, Tufts University Medical School, and University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine.

Currently she  holds three state licenses: Massachusetts, Florida and Pennsylvania and is an independent contractor hospitalist physician and hospice consultant. When not working, she lives in Miami Beach and travels, and produces and hosts her radio shows. She’s been to  45 countries and now writes and photographs her travel experiences for the internet magazine, Travel Curious Often.

For more information on Dr. Zoë A. Lewis please visit:





Blog Talk Radio:


1. Poetic Penumbra


2. I Hope They Know- The Essential Handbook of Alzheimer’s Disease and Care


A woman with a voice is by definition a strong woman. But the search to find that voice can be remarkably different.  ~ Melinda Gates

Welcome to our women’s issue!  Seven is celebrating inspirational women across the globe who contributes positively to society in some way, shape, or form.  Who are your female role models? What is your definition of a strong woman?

Women represent a vast majority of the world’s population, and yet are the most underserved, impoverished, and uneducated in comparison to men. Partly, this is because of gender inequality and poverty which marginalizes women as a whole. But when women armored with the essential tools to compete in a male driven society, where odds are stacked against them before conception, they blossom.

This month The Pen Bleeds features the artistic stylings of Dr. Zoe A. Lewis, Shashi Moore, Jill Scott and Maya Angelou, all positive women who inspire others to use their voice and be comfortable in the skin they’re in. See how their verses flow below, and be inspired to pen a piece of your own!



Why fear confrontation,
if once for love we died?
We ably massacred our enemies,
blood mingled side by side.
No strangers to our glorious past,
no shadows left to fear.
Steady onward towards our future,
rebirth through love is near.
We’ve found each other once again,
but still I’d like to know,
if love finds life eternal each birth,
why souls are want to go?

-by Dr. Zoe A. Lewis

 Essence of a woman

Heavenly beauty of divine handiwork

Preordained with chic elegance

Delicate mingling of strength and poise

Adorned with virtues of inestimable value

Covert, hidden display of aptitudes

Archetypal, classic

Placed on earth to stand beside her

Complement gent

Cherished and charmed

No aorta of abuse should befall

The creation of God

-by Shashi Moore

Tree Like She (for Grandmothers Everywhere)

How many times have you heard the infant cry?

How many leaves have you lost to fall?

How many secrets held?

How often, the dead weight of castrated boys on your arm?

How many younglings lost in the name of lesson?

How many generations?

Fire from fire

Storm from storm have you stood with your feet clinging

And your bones crying for lie down?

How many poets rest their backs against your frame?

Tree How many danced when the wind blew

Or the water tumbled

Or the sun looked and the snow painted?

How many names carved in your heart?

How many lovers rock sweet and right under your blessed shade?

How many moons?

How many knives?

How many destinies have you seen get wet?

And yet you are constant

painstakingly healing and swelling from your greater providence

You have seen the earth green and fresh

Turn to synthetic

Yet you grow

Through fences

Through the concrete

Through wire

Through rapid obliviousness

Through hared swept in neat piles

I watch you sway in the October breeze

and am




-by Jill Scott

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

-by Maya Angelou

© 2013 Seven Magazine

The Pen Bleeds

Welcome to The Pen Bleeds where poetry is more than rhyme, more than reason, more than words flowing with rhythm; it’s a combination of jagged thoughts, feelings, actions, and a unique language opening minds to see the world from a different perspective.


This Month’s Featured Poet: Sean Burton

It’s a pleasure featuring Sean Burton, a poet who delves into those caliginous places; the eerie ones where hell equates to being overtaken by a succubus while the body is at rest. His writing demonstrates a side of poetry that is more than love sonnets dressed in niceties making the heart flutter. Instead, it exhibits an intense and chaotic shadowy side, which intentionally preys on the fears of the living. Do you dare to embrace the darkness in all those dreadful crevices? We posed seven questions to better familiarize our readers with his creative vision and intellect.

Q&A with Sean Burton

Seven: What is your favorite genre of literature to write about?

Sean Burton: I really get into the darker side of writing. The macabre, taboo, and sins. That sort of thing.

Seven:  What inspires you to write?

Sean Burton: My poetry is usually associated directly with whatever mental state I am in. If I have a feeling of heartache, fear, lust or anxiety I write. I find this better because the words literally just flow and there’s no thought process to it until it comes to editing/proof reading.

Seven: Who is your favorite author and how do they inspire you?

Sean Burton: I’m a huge Lovecraft fan. He is undoubtedly a linguistic genius. He has this way with words that just drives my imagination to insanity and when I read it, it just becomes sudden inspiration.

Seven: Are your writings primarily nonfiction, fiction, or a mixture of both?

Sean Burton: Both actually. The nightmare pieces are nonfiction. The poetry comes roughly half and half but a real life experience rooted them.

Seven: Do you have any advice for writers who want to improve their craft?

Sean Burton: Always keep something to write with nearby. I can’t tell you how much I hate being struck with inspiration and I don’t write anything. It never comes out nearly as good. The reader can feel your inspiration and passion through your words and as always, keep writing. Never stop.

Seven: Can you write on command about any topic or is writing more spiritual for you?

Sean Burton: Both. I write for a few fitness magazines locally so I’m often asked to write on a timeline and I blog about both fitness and my personal writings. Needless to say, I get a lot of practice.

Seven:  What are your views on freedom of speech and why do you feel “The Great American Boy” is a prime example of standing up for ones beliefs?

Sean Burton: Freedom of speech is something I feel everyone cherishes, yet very few take advantage of due to repercussion or criticism. Imagine not having it for a second. It’s the essence of where we are as a nation and men and women have died for it. He who possesses the will to stand against the masses for a belief they cherish, and let it be known, has the same will our founding fathers possessed.

Sean Burton is a resident of San Antonio, Texas, who is a freelance self employed personal trainer, poet, writer, blogger, and jack of all trades. He staunchly opposes mediocrity and conformity; he has a unique style all his own. Everything he does is fueled by passion, fortified by knowledge and carried by faith.

For more information on Sean Burton please visit:


Instagram: SeanIsIt



Restriction of free thought and free speech is the most dangerous of all subversions. It is the one un-American act that could most easily defeat us. 

-Justice William O. Douglas

Freedom of expression is the single most important right all humans should be privy to. Unfortunately, not all governments allow this right and even in the United States it is limited.

A true democratic society supports an environment where its citizens are free to voice their opinions and ideas openly without prejudice or punishment. I believe in fostering a populace of brave free thinking people; people who not only embrace dissenting viewpoints, but also challenge any system of beliefs, government, or set of actions that may clash with their own.

Only the brave or free thinking are willing to go against the status quo, being willing to speak up and take action on behalf of the community and the world. These individuals raise the bar and lead by example. One of the greatest proponents of free speech was free-thinker, essayist, scholar and social activist W.E.B Dubois. He challenged his peers ( Booker. T. Washington and Marcus Garvey) and incessantly went against the grain to confront injustice in those oppressive and dreary places. Dubois made it his mission to fight for social and economic equality for blacks; demanding access to proper education and equivalent defense under the law. Even when the government scrutinized Dubois for his political views he never wavered in his beliefs. He remained steadfast in his fight to end racial issues and worked tirelessly towards world peace. That’s a bit of a history lesson on one of my favorite outspoken free thinkers.

Now, from my own observation of America in the twenty-first century, I can easily say a large majority of us are severely handicapped. We place ourselves at a great disadvantage by not taking advantage of certain privileges bestowed upon us from birth. People in other countries are sacrificing their lives and fighting for such rights. We’ve allowed ourselves to be “dumb down” by mainstream culture; we’ve become lazy and dependent on our government to think and act for us. By placing emphasis on the unnecessary, rather than what is needed in order for our country to thrive, America has become weak. We are no longer the respected power house we once were many years ago. The United States isn’t the blue print of an idealistic democratic progressive society. You may say that statement is un-American, but it’s true. You may not agree, but I embrace dissenting view points of others. In fact, I dare you to challenge that statement. In the words of  W.E.B. Dubois “If there is anybody in this land who thoroughly believes the meek shall inherit the earth, they have not often let their presence be known.”  Make your voice equivalent to the sound of a sonic boom; sending shock waves throughout all who become affected by its presence.

This month’s theme is all about the first amendment, free thought, and freedom of speech. We’ve selected a few poems from artist whose poetry embraces the spirit of the first amendment and the right to peaceably assemble. First up is our featured poet Sean Burton who submitted The Great American Boy, an ode to Mohammad Ali when he refused to go to war in Vietnam. Next is Wake Up a poem by K.S. Pratt dedicated to America and my frustration with the current state of affairs. Last but not least we introduce you to author, social activist, and founder of Activist Poet Round Table Steve Bloom. We selected Warriors a tribute to the strikers of Stella D’oro Bakery, and Statement of Context a short verse on the inhumane treatment of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.



The Great American Boy

The stage was set for a man to take his solemn duty within his hands and make his way to far away lands. Yet today this boy became that man. Not the man wanting to venture unwillingly to far away lands. Nor the man to take the wishes of others’ ignorance into his own hands … but the man to keep to his morals … to make his stand. But as his higher power served greatly , admired by few yet hated by many. For the man he is now has been labeled a criminal. A coward of will. His legal duty duped by his moral appeal, he stands before the masses chanting in tongues giving lashes. The camera turns on and the lights heat up as it’s his time to confide his thoughts to the world in rhyme.

” You know who I am, yet you seem surprised lately. Am I still not the one to dance all night? Am I not the man that came to fight? No, I will not fight … not for the own selfish ignorance’s of those who can only experience what pain is like from the side, despite their own desires and virtues, they send the poor and hide in fright.

I am not a puppet of the man who thinks because I obey the law set that I will follow my brothers blindly into that darkened hell to gamble my being and talent simply for your will. No, I am not that pawn. I will not be pressured nor convinced ; I will go on! Do what you will with my name.

Take my titles and destroy my fame, but you will never break my spirit and you cannot throw me off my game. I will come back stronger and I will be back fast. I’m bigger than this and I will take this moment and throw it in my past. For I am the greatest, and nothing can stop me. I’ll still float gracefully across that canvas mat, and I will sting harder than ever when I get back. Send me to jail, there’s light at the end. For what’s broken can always mend”

The boy has now become a man of the hour, the solid statue of standing firm for belief and value. An endless figure sealed within our history in stone,

forever remembered

never alone.

by Sean Burton

Wake up!

How long will you be
Content with fine cars and
fancy homes and think that you are free?
Wake up!

Your freedom cannot be measured in material things.
How long will you look at what you have and
Think that you are free?
Wake up!

The slave drums of the past beat for you.
The forests through which you run are the concrete jungles
Streets of the city.
Can you hear the rhythmic drums beating?
Can you hear our ancestors calling out for us to wake up?

Oh my people!
Listen to the drums and know that you’ve been lulled.
You cannot be free because you are blind.
And so you’ll never know
That the jungle drums beat for you.
And so they cry out
“Wake up, Wake up.”

Open your eyes and see!
While you blindly sing and dance,
The chains of oppression have been tightened.
Tightened by the past.
Tightened by the present.
Tightened by the future.

How could you let freedom escape you?
How could you allow generations yet unborn
To suffer the untold misery of the chains?
It is time for us to wake up!

You’ve let the concrete jungle
Lure you into a state of complacency.
It is time to stop the music!
Dance no more!
My people! My People!
Wake up! Wake up!

by K.S. Pratt





You dwarf the words of the poet: you,
the warriors of Stella D’Oro.
For the best I might ever do
is recount this story which your deeds
have already written.

The end, it seems, was composed by others—
who have more power but less humanity.
A toast, therefore, to all still holding
heads high, proud of their humanity.
For this is the common cause any poet
might share with those who fight
for justice.

Each one of you will always have
your humanity: the many-thousand acts,
small and large, of sacrifice and sharing,
the comradeship, the sheer magnitude of what
you have achieved.

Not one crossed the picket line. No,
not one.

For these things can never be taken away
no matter how much equipment
is dismantled, moved to another state—
just as the poet will always
have the written word, even if
our world might not be ready yet
to listen.

It seems you spoke too soon, you
the warriors of Stella D’Oro,
before our world was ready to listen.
Still, I refuse to lose heart, assert
that one day the bosses and billionaires
will spend a little time of their own
on the unemployment line—after
the working people of New York City
have taken control.

And then we will turn that old building
in the Bronx (you know, the one that used to be
the Stella D’Oro bakery) into a must-see
destination, marked on every
tourist map, a shrine which pilgrims
can visit in their millions to learn,
remember, offer a tribute
to your struggle—writing, thereby,
an alternative ending to the story
of Stella D’Oro.

And the poem that you have composed for us
during this strike year of 2008/2009 will touch
their hearts as each one listens to its words—
overflowing with your humanity, the many-thousand
acts of sacrifice and sharing, the comradeship,
the sheer magnitude of what one,
work-place was able to achieve
and finally understand.

Yes, each one of them will,

by Steve Bloom

Statement of Context

“Former U.S. president Jimmy Carter

has said the Palestinian people

trapped in Gaza are being treated

‘like animals.'”

He is wrong, of course.

If you treated your animals this way

someone would come

to put you in jail.

by Steve Bloom

© 2013 Seven Magazine

The Pen Bleeds

Welcome to The Pen Bleeds where poetry is more than rhyme, more than reason, more than words flowing with rhythm; it’s a combination of jagged thoughts, feelings, actions, and a unique language opening minds to see the world from a different perspective.

This month’s featured Poet: Yasin Chines

It is a great honor to be featuring Yasin Chines this month! His fervor for syntax, human experiences, and life in general is ever so passionately expressed through his poetry. Yasin’s soul vibrates in each intricate composition which grasps at the core of the human spirit. He’s destined to be one of the greats, so please get familiar with this brilliant artist.

Yasin Chines (UK), a graduate from University of Leeds, is a writer & poet for a Manchester newspaper and co-author of the forthcoming unique poetic biography of The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) ‘Illuminated Verses’. Yasin is currently in the process of editing his first collection of poetry ‘The Carthatic Quartet’ which focuses on the cycle of seasons that burn, shake, freeze and awaken the soul; the majority of which shows how he has dealt with death of both parents at a young age, tragedy, hope, failed & new love and what not only helped him purge but open up realities beyond the mind’s comprehension. His work has received praise from acclaimed writers and poets such as Paul Sutherland, Daniel Abdal Hayy Moore and his former poetry mentor, to whom he is forever grateful, Rommi Smith. He is also a member of Poetic License UK.

For more information on Yasin Chines please visit:

WordPress: Xsentrik

Instagram: yasin_chines

Twitter: @YChines

Facebook: Yasin Chines

Contact Email:

What bearings do certain events or encounters have on someone’s future? Are certain happenings determined by a stroke of luck or is it fate, and can either be manipulated?

Luck is defined as the chance happening of adverse or fortunate events. While fate, is the ultimate agency that predetermines the course of events. The following quote from Alfred A. Montapert who wrote The Supreme Philosophy of Man: The Laws of Life, provides some insight into the proposed questions: “ Question: Why are we masters of our fate, the captains of our soul? Because we have the power to control our thoughts and our attitudes. That is why many people live in the withering negative world. That is why many people live in the positive faith world.” Clearly, Alfred Montapert’s philosophy on fate was greatly influenced by Invictus, an epic poem written by the late great Ernest Henley.

Invictus is a perfect representation of the power and strength of our resilience; proving the human spirit to be insurmountable. Even when life’s storms make an attempt at extinguishing its fire, the spirit always manages to rekindle its flame. Alfred Montaperts philosophy on positive reinforcement rings true. The fertilizer we use to nourish our thoughts also affects our behaviors and our fate. If one nourishes the soul in all things hopeful, it will thrive in love, forgiveness, knowledge, understanding, happiness, truth, and light. In the grand scheme of things we are all fated to go through a series of experiences, with the intention of connecting us to a higher power and our higher purpose. Personally I believe in kismet. Our kismet is a quintessential force always channeled by the one who holds the key. Evolve by daring to unlock the door to new possibilities; have faith in what is meant to be always will be.

First up, is Yasin Chines he graciously submitted Skin Creasesan intimate verse involving betrayal and the struggle to salvage a demised relationship against the natural course of the inevitable. Upon my request, he also contributed Fight or Leap a poem that expresses the battle of facing down an imaginary bear or jumping to ones demise. Next, Is Changes by K.S. Pratt  which speaks on the transition of change and how fate ties into our everyday lives. Finally, in honor of the Month of the Irish we give you Re-Adjustment, an ode written by the late C.S. Lewis,novelist, poet, literary critic, scholar, and broad caster from Belfast, Ireland. Lewis possessed a great amount of foresight. This poem speaks on the deterioration of communication between humans. How we’ve lost our passion for words and the advancement of literature as a whole. If Lewis were alive today, I’m positive he would be greatly disappointed in how face to face conversations have become passé in comparison to texting, tweeting, and facebooking.

In closing, no matter what your beliefs are, know that we are all destined for greatness. Always choose your thoughts wisely, for they become your actions, and ultimately your fate.

beach photo

Skin Creases

How little difference

her words made

from trying to preserve

our birth mark, to folding

the creases flat.

And as I looked into

the pupils of her eyes

dilating, shifting deltas

of hazel veins, I was certain

that no delicate handling

of any skin, can avoid

the stretch-marks that

eventually plough over

tainted love’s folds of skin.

She came a little closer,

so close I felt the

whisper of her breath

on my skin. Intimate.

How absurd that I felt

like a snail, and she

the salt.

-by Yasin Chines

Fight or Leap

There comes a time

when no choice is not

an option anymore.

In its ever-silent

growth spurts,

the bear you have

knowingly nurtured

for so long, has now

become. And on this

occasion, you

have to wrestle it.

You can inquire after,

whether this is

designed risk or fate.

by Yasin Chines



When life must change, then change it must,
When love must change to distrust,
When leaves of gold must turn brown.
When tears of sadness must come down.

Alight from thy dreary bed.
Face only that which lies ahead.
Accept those things that cannot be.
Cry only for those you no longer see.

With fate comes change, then change it must,
Accept it all, for life is just.

-by  K.S.Pratt



I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour
In being the last of one’s kind: a topmost moment as one watched
The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge
Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
Now I see that, all along, I was assuming a posterity
Of gentle hearts: someone, however distant in the depths of time,
Who could pick up our signal, who could understand a story. There won’t be.

Between the new Hembidae and us who are dying, already
There rises a barrier across which no voice can ever carry,
For devils are unmaking language. We must let that alone forever.
Uproot your loves, one by one, with care, from the future,
And trusting to no future, receive the massive thrust
And surge of the many-dimensional timeless rays converging
On this small, significant dew drop, the present that mirrors all.

-by C.S.Lewis

*Featured picture courtesy of © 2013 Ray Hernandez


The Pen Bleeds

Welcome to The Pen Bleeds where poetry is more than rhyme, more than reason, more than words flowing with rhythm; it’s a combination of jagged thoughts, feelings, actions, and a unique language opening minds to see the world from a different perspective.

Do you recall the first time a succession of words played like a heavenly melody in your ear, stimulating your senses, causing you to hunger for more? I do. At the shy age of four I was seduced by Christina Georgina Rosetti’s poetic work of genius “Who Has Seen the Wind.”  It’s amazing how the method of simplicity used to describe the wind as this epic force to be respected, could move a person to build deeper connections with people, nature, and the world through written word.

This month we’ll be exploring things that we love. Actually, the theme of the month is entitled “Things That I Love” but who cares about technicalities, right? Now, has someone ever written something that enlightened you, opened your eyes, and altered your thinking? Well, I’ve been inspired by two of the poets featured in this month’s issue. Keeping with this month theme, I’ll be introducing you to three sonnetists whose rhythmic flow and depth of subject matter, challenges your views on love addictions, soul mates, and how love can be equivalent to a natural disaster i.e. the Mexico City earthquake of 1985.

First up to bat, is Seven’s own bashful resident rhapsodist, K.S. Pratt., the current EIC (Editor in Charge) w/ADD of “The Pen Bleeds.” She composed the following poem/spoken word piece Untitled which chronicles one persons addiction to the idea of love, and how one can rehabilitate a broken heart through the discovery of self love. This poem also happens to be one of the Editor In Chief’s favorites. Next, Is D.D. Wright a mother, educator, poetess, and Author of Poetry 2Life: Youth. Struggle. Love.  D.D. Wright is our first unknown featured poet who submitted Solid an ode to how love between two souls connected can surpass life’s circumstances, distance, and even time. If you’re not familiar with the name, then you need to make yourself familiar. Stop by more information on this inspirational woman. She’s a bad mama jama! Finally, our pièce de résistance You Bring Out the Mexican in Me an elegy composed by famous Mexican American novelist, poet, and short story writer Sandra Cisneros.  If you’ve ever been in love with someone who brought out the feral passionate side of your persona, then you can definitely relate to this masterpiece.

In closing, I would like to thank you for stopping by “The Pen Bleeds”; hopefully I’ve cajoled your brain to embrace literature, poetry, and perhaps inspired you to create a piece of poetry of your own.

UntitledBy K.S. Pratt

My obsession with the person I manifested you to be,

Spun me into a temporary state of dysphoria.

I became unwell.

The euphoric highs of immersing my being around your world,

Soaking up the essence of you like a sponge,

As if hanging on to your every word would quench my thirst.

I was so gone.

Unable to discern between reality and truth,

Caught up in my addiction,

Being mind fucked daily by your lies,

Knowing very well in my heart of hearts this could not be love.

I am partially to blame.

What wasn’t love was lust lurking in my loins,

Leading my heart to believe this lingering sensation was genuine,

So, I fed my fixation.

But damn!

Why everything that’s supposed to be bad makes you feel so good?

I knew better.

All common sense flies out the window when you’re thinking with your heart instead of your head.

If ignorance published bliss then I became their number one subscriber.

I had issues.

Believing in fantasies of prince charming on a white horse,

Climbing up the side of castle walls,

And if you kiss the frog he’ll be the one.

Then he and I would ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

I fell for that.

Never heeded the warnings that read like prophecies before my eyes,

Yet I still refused to see the truth in your intentions; because I was leaning on my own understanding.

I was blind.

Truth be told, this knight in shining armor turned out to be nothing more than a fallacy,

The virtues I sought after in him with my spirit evolved into unrequited adoration.

I woke up.

Realizing the love I had for self, was far greater than the bad habit I developed for my addiction,

I made it my mission to take steps towards loving you from a distance.

I entered rehab.

Still at times this bitter pill is hard to swallow; I crush and take it in small doses,

Slowly working you out of my system.

I am better.

With the passing of each day,

I move on from my faux pas,

Taking in every lesson learned from this life experience.

I let go of my beautiful, twisted, dark fantasy.

I am free.

Realizing that the greatest gift you’ll ever learn is to love yourself first, then accept love in return.

Copyright @K.S. Pratt 2012

By D.D. Wright (Author of Poetry 2Life: Youth. Struggle. Love.)

For love to live through storms and distance means
it must be as real as the deep breath it takes to survive the pain,
not to be left breathlessly in the rain,
not to live fragmented, fighting to maintain,
without the one that holds the umbrella.
Often times, the one that reigns,
not with love lost,
turning lackluster with the wind is not for royalty,
unable to embrace the reality
of you and me,
I feel the need
to re-write history,
ever grateful for a pen and poetry.
all of the caramel drizzled chocolate in the world
can not compare
to the sheer sweetness of us as a pair,
united, our story draws blank stares
on faces of non-believers.
How has it been over 300 days and
every day,
I have to pray,
that this soulmate-less nightmare
simply goes away
and I awake to you holding me…yes, you.
Destiny does not say that
I am to be cold or alone or
that my hot other half would flow
right out of my reach.
It is unfathomable for me to see
sand without a beach or
you and me without the “we”
figuratively nor literally
living separately.
In my stubborn heart,
I will never accept this sick twist of fate,
never, ever ponder a date,
without my imperfect mate.
The door will be cracked,
or if locked,
the key will be in that special place,
where only you know the space.
A whisper inside of me just convinces me
that you will return to me,
safe and ready,
one day.

Copyright @D.D. Wright 2012
If you loved D.D. Wright’s poem, check out her book. Click the picture above for more information on where to purchase a copy.

You Bring Out the Mexican in Me
By Sandra Cisneros

You bring out the Mexican in me.
The hunkered thick dark spiral.
The core of a heart howl.
The bitter bile.
The tequila lagrímas on Saturday all
through next weekend Sunday.
You are the one I’d let go the other loves for,
surrender my one-woman house.
Allow you red wine in bed,
even with my vintage lace linens.
Maybe.  Maybe.

For you.

You bring out the Dolores del Río in me.
The Mexican spitfire in me.
The raw navajas, glint and passion in me.
The raise Cain and dance with the rooster-footed devil in me.
The spangled sequin in me.
The eagle and serpent in me.
The mariachi trumpets of the blood in me.
The Aztec love of war in me.
The fierce obsidian of the tongue in me.
the berrinchuda, bien-cabrona in me.
The Pandora’s curiosity in me.
The pre-Columbian death and destruction in me.
The rainforest disaster, nuclear threat in me.
The fear of fascists in me.
Yes, you do.  Yes, you do.

You bring out the colonizer in me.
The holocaust of desire in me.
The Mexico City ’85 earthquake in me.
The Popocatepetl/Ixtaccíhuatl in me.
The tidal wave of recession in me.
The Agustín Lara hopeless romantic in me.
The barbacoa taquitos on Sunday in me.
The cover the mirrors with cloth in me.

Sweet twin.  My wicked other,
I am the memory that circles your bed nights,
that tugs you taut as moon tugs ocean.
I claim you all mine,
arrogant as Manifest Destiny.
I want to rattle and rent you in two.
I want to defile you and raise hell.
I want to pull out the kitchen knives,
dull and sharp, and whisk the air with crosses.
Me sacas lo mexicana en mi,
like it or not, honey.

You bring out the Uled-Nayl in me.
The stand-back-white-bitch in me.
The switchblade in the boot in me.
The Acapulco cliff diver in me.
The Flecha Roja mountain disaster in me.
The dengue fever in me.
The ¡Alarma! murderess in me.
I could kill in the name of you and think
it worth it.  Brandish a fork and terrorize rivals,
female and male, who loiter and look at you,
languid in your light.  Oh,

I am evil.  I am the filth goddess Tlazoltéotl.
I am the swallower of sins.
The lust goddesss without guilt.
The delicious debauchery.  You bring out
the primordial exquisiteness in me.
The nasty obsession in me.
The corporal and venial sin in me.
the original transgression in me.

Red ocher.  Yellow ocher.  Indigo.  Cochineal.
Piñón.  Copal.  Sweetgrass.  Myrrh.
All you saints, blessed and terrible,
Virgen de Guadalupe, diosa Coatlicue,
I invoke you.

Quiero ser tuya.  Only yours.  Only you.
Quiero amarte.  Atarte.  Amarrarte.
Love the way a Mexican woman loves.  Let
me show you.  Love the only way I know how.