Fill my cup with
© gillena cox 2025
anyone can write; am i a poet? you decide
© gillena cox 2025
Animo
Swamped in state of apachurrado
I felt i had no where to go
Except in the direction of ecabronado
That for a looong time was so
Until i came to wise ni modo
Absorbed in the ways of church once more
What ensued was merciful animo
Now i care for nothing more than
That facinating estrenar
See what the Lord has done for me
© gillena cox 2025
Words I Used
(Given a list of words from I Have No Word in English Fo By Sandra Cisneros (The New Yorker print edition, September 16, 2024)
Apachurrado. Hat run over by a truck. Heart run over by unrequited love.
Estrenar. To show off what’s new gloriously.
Encabronada/o. A volatile, combustible rage.
Ni modo. Wise acceptance of what fate doles.
Ánimo. A joyous zap of fire.
“Calling Things What They Are.”
If you are sad say so. If you are happy let it show. Being straight saves a world of misconceptions, lots of time wasted, and more best results.
Don't call tears raindrop, or smiles up side down frowns. Calling things what they are, is the best way forward. Leave poetry to the poets.
Life gets real when you face it head on. I have no skills for flight or wings to skim the waves effortlessly, like the wind itself. A balloon is a balloon. A spade is a spade.
© gillena cox 2025
From the atelier window,
I looked out to be absorbed,
By an iris, an abstract work
Of God in the evening shadows,
A vanishing point of day,
Not just a sunset, but more so,
A polychromatic overlap of emotions,
This was the expressionism gift
That later artist would receive
© gillena cox 2025
Tangle - Quadrille
Untangle this,
If you should miss
The opportunity, to
See groups of two
Colours, their strands
Relating where you stand,
Then the better to see
You, my dear can be
Drinking soup from a bowl,
Red as your dear soul,
Aflamed with filial love.
© gillena cox 2025
[image made with Bing AI generator]
Piercing The Silence
When i heard his shout,
I thought yes, he has returned home,
The bell on the ice cream cart
Tinkled, a hot Sunday afternoon.
Children in the nearby houses
Screamed, running barefooted
Into the dusty country road,
For ice cream, in tubs and on sticks.
Bring me a large plastic bag!
I want to buy some ice cream sticks,
To keep in the fridge,
For when the grand kids come by.