Española Poetry Explosion at the Library: January 30, 2014

Meet this month’s feature at the Española Poetry Explosion.

Sheri Lopez is a little lady who was born in Albuquerque on August 22, 1985. That makes her 28 for those of you who hate math. She has a little man named Dominic who is pretty much the radest creature on the face of the earth, at least to her. He is almost two and this makes Sheri very nervouse because he can already run faster than her which is forcing her to get into shape to catch him. Mostly because she does not want to be one of those mother who has her child on a leash. But that is neither here, nor there, since this should be about her writing.

She has been writing her whole life, mainly short stories, but poetry is fun for her too. She does this in her free time or at 3 in the morning for some odd reason. Sheri really likes 3am. And in those tiny moments when the world inspires her she takes phrases and hordes them until they become a piece. This also happens to be the first time she has ever been a featured anything and it makes her nervous. But all in all she hopes you all like what she has to offer and she thanks you for coming.

(By the way, Sheri wrote this, but it is hard for her to talk about herself so she chose the third person format. Sheri hopes you do not mind and possibly think it is funny).
With love,
Sheri

Poem & Photo: Solo En El Nichito

Angelo J. Sandoval
(c) 1-26-2014

I visited sacred ground
a place that holds healing powers
from ancient times
a sacred place where
pilgrims of all corners
of the earth come in search
of healing dirt.

Sacred site to ancient
cultures and peoples of these lands.
I visit this sacred place
to celebrate sacred rituals
remembering miracles of
years pasted,
honoring antepasados
and the faith they left behind.

I approach a place of prayer
to visit La Virgen Morena
in her nicho de pierda.
I see her faithful servant
and her chosen witness,
witness to a great miracle.
Juan Diego, solo en es nichito
La Virgencita, no estaba.

It was said, the image of
La Morenita had been stolen.
The worst of all sins,
made its way to a place of holiness.
The faith of my antepasados has been
offended with such an act of cowardness
There is an emptiness at the nichito
Juan Diego, solo
en busca de su Ninita querida.

Offering prayers,
having esperanza y fe
Que el perdon alcanse
a esa alma que se llevo
a mi Morenita.
Que mi Morenita lo
quide y lo cobije con su manto.

The sacrilege of the world
has entered sacred ground.
Respect for sacred spaces
has begun to crumble
like old adobe walls.
Respect has lost its place
in a world where ancient wisdom
has been shoved in nooks and
crannies of society.

Sacred spaces have lost there value
in a society where money is glorified
above the teachings of our antepasados.
La fe de los antepasados se pierde
un poco cada dia
Ya ni respecto hay pa’ las cosas de Dios.
Los tiempos cambian pero los valores
de la comunidad no soponen de cambiar
con l out s tiempos,
pero a hece fin a llegado este mundo.

Poem & Photo:The Silhouette of Ancient times

Angelo J. Sandoval
(c) 1-20-2014

The drive home,
I witnessed God’s beauty
the sunset over the
Jemez Mountains
from the top of the world,
Las Truchas
pais de mi bis-abuelo
as I drove to the edge of the town
an ancient symbol
standing tall
the brightness of the last
bit of light over the horizon
the silhouette de la cruz
to my left peripheral view.

Recuerdos de tiempos pasados
run through my mind
me recuerdo de los dias
de mis antepasados
las voces de hombres de fe
oigo las tonadas de alabados
se oyen las oracienes cantadas
el llanto del pito
viene y va como el vientecito.

I look at the beauty
of an ancient symbol
on top of the mountain
its silhouette resonates
an ancient history full
of faith and devotion.

The last glimpse of the day’s light
fades behind the mountain
the cross steadfast
with its presence
of an ancient past
which lives strong today
as it did decades ago.

Los antepasados
nos dejaron un simbolo
De fe que traiyan en su corazon.

Feliz Año Nuevo 2014