About my writing...

When writing under pressure

I blankly stare at the paper,

with the pen in my hand.

Awaiting for my emotions to give away.

But I am speechless...suffocated, no words to say.

Once again, my confusion has left me astray.

Therefore, I ponder here in this dreadful state and sulk.

I feel helplessly intoxicated, when writing becomes difficult.

Then again, there are times when I am spiritually motivated,

And my mind shifts into space.

I start visiting my dream world an ecclesiastical place.

A world where the guardian spirits reside,

Sending forth the haunting and blessed visions that aid me to write.

I set the pen on paper and it begins to move on its own incredibly fast.

Making my poems and stories a much easier task.

However and whichever way I reveal myself,

through fiction or a composed verse,

it does indeed

still becomes new to me

And often too many times, involuntarily

frightening.

Some bits & pieces of the Oye Adele

There is this man in my life, whom I adore with every fiber of my being, his name is Santos Orgullo. He and I have been friends for all of my 31 years. At the age five, Santos and his parents moved from Spain to the house next to ours, here in Maryland.

At that time, my mother was pregnant of me and a single woman; his mother would check on her often and being that Santos was the only child, he would always come along. My mother said Santos use to come to her, gently tap on her belly and say “Come out already. I need someone to play with.” When he finally got his wish, he didn't seem to mind that I was a girl.

In fact, he was like a big brother always protecting me, teaching me to ride a bike, climb trees, beat up bullies, and how to be a considerate individual. Santos, was always helpful to everyone around him. He didn't care if you, at one point, bullied him.

If he felt that you were in dire need of a friend, Santos was there by your side and happy to do it. Even after losing both of his parents, Santos still kept his spirits up and helped the local community center with a Big Brother/Big Sister program. At the same time, he had to handle all of his parents' affairs in Spain and the mortgage for the house here. The locals thought he might have been taking on too much for his age but Santos proved to be an independent, reliable 18 year old.

With his inheritance he was able to put himself through college for Business Management and study Contemporary Spanish Art in Barcelona and all over Europe. He also gave me some money to go to Puerto Rico and meet my father and his family.

Due to our travels, we sort of lost touch with each other. Until two years ago, when he came back to settle down and start a family of his own. He came over to introduce us to his beautiful fiance. As I came outside to greet him, my heart stopped.

Here was this brawn of a man, with dark chestnut colored hair and touches of silver signifying his experiences in life. His skin was a light olive color and glowing from the Mediterranean sun's rays and eyes as black as midnight. As soon as he saw me those midnight eyes shone twinkling stars. He smiled from ear to ear and opened his arms wide for me. When we embraced, his scent seeped through my nose and into my veins.

He smelled familiar...honey flavored cigars, soft and strong at the same time. I just collapsed into him and sighed to myself. When he spoke I felt the strong vibration of his voice against my chest as it gently made it's way to my ear, “I've missed you, querida.” His very essence left me dumbfounded, the only words that came out of were,“Ditto.”

He just laughed his usual wholehearted laughter but this time it didn't have a hint of squeakiness there, it was deeper...he was a man.