A Poet's Lament

[SmilingLez]

I have neglected my first love - free verse - for about 2 weeks. Not anymore.

I've decided that my free verse will center around all Latino / Spanish / South American / Hispanic culture instead of just pre Castro Cuba.

My outline:

1. Music
brass, strings, drums

2. Food
flavors, colors, smells

3. Texture / Touch / Physical Sensation
fabrics, colors, movement, patterns
rough, smooth, soft, stiff

4. Energy
joyful, upbeat, love, family, friends


Edit
Title - Fiesta de Alegría

 

[SmilingLez]

Fleshing out my skeleton

Music
Trumpets blaze, piercing the sun,
guitars strum fire, drums pulse heartbeat, maracas rattle like quicksilver, rhythm wraps everything, unstoppable, alive.

Food
Spices curl in the air - cinnamon, chili, lime, plantains fry, tortillas steam, chocolate thick, mangoes dripping gold, tamarind tangs sharp, aromas weaving through every corner, every street.

Colors
Fuchsia, turquoise, ochre, coral—walls, flags, cloth, ribbons twist and shimmer in warm sunlight, tiles catch the heat, flowers flare, vividness bleeding into every crack and shadow.

Joy
Laughter explodes, family, clinking glasses, invisible threads of delight, the pulse of celebration in every sound and scent, energy rises, unstoppable, relentless, a world singing, radiant, uncontained.

 

[SmilingLez]

Fleshing out my skeleton

Music
Trumpets blaze, piercing the sun,
guitars strum fire, drums pulse heartbeat, maracas rattle like quicksilver, rhythm wraps everything, unstoppable, alive.

Been working on the music aspect

Trumpets cut the heat -
bright, brassy flames,
drums slam ribs,
maracas rattle like lightning across bare shoulders,
guitars lick the sun off tiled rooftops.

 

[SmilingLez]

Been working on the music aspect

Trumpets cut the heat -
bright, brassy flames,
drums slam ribs,
maracas rattle like lightning across bare shoulders,
guitars lick the sun off tiled rooftops.

First machete chop:

trumpets - brassy flames, belly deep
drums - pulsing, slamming ribs,
maracas - lightning across bare shoulders,
guitars - licking the sun off tiled rooftops.

 

[SmilingLez]

Now for the food - first machete chop

Spices - cinnamon, chili, lime
dance on your tongue
weave through every corner,
every block,
every home

plantains fry,
tortillas steam,
chocolate thick,
mangoes dripping gold

 

[SmilingLez]

The colors

sangria jumps the rim,
red, cold, wild,
hands gripping the glass,
voices rising fast,
heat lifting with them.

sun slams the tiles,
white walls blazing back,
eyes narrowing, then breaking open,
laughter shooting down the block,
bright as the day itself.

music bursts from open windows,
brass bright as blue noon sky,
drums thumping joy into ribs,
hips catching the beat,
the block moving like one body.

green rises from the earth,
leaves pushing through cracks,
vines climbing stone,
nature insisting on itself,
alive in every corner of the block.

night settles hard,
cool breath on hot pavement,
shadows stretching long,
windows glowing in the dark,
the whole block humming low.

a look held,
bright, direct, electric,
the spark before the spark,
the breath before the break,
and then -
the whole block breaks open.

 

[SmilingLez]

Now for the food - first machete chop

Spices - cinnamon, chili, lime
dance on your tongue
weave through every corner,
every block,
every home

Second machete chop

Spices curl the air -
cinnamon,
chili,
lime

Dancing,
aroma weaving,
every corner,
every block,
every home

 

[SmilingLez]

Second machete chop

Spices curl the air -
cinnamon,
chili,
lime

Dancing,
aroma weaving,
every corner,
every block,
every home.

This is more show don't tell

I still don't know what to chop though. Perhaps I should veer off my normal course of stark staccato visceral shorties.

Cinnamon stings the tongue
Chili bites, lime bites back
Plantains hiss in hot oil, tortillas steam
Mango juice drips down wrists
Chocolate thick sweet, and sticky
The air tastes alive
Rich. Wet. Urgent.

 

[SmilingLez]

Oops, forgot the most important part and that is family - La Familia

Abuela already laughing.
Like you arrived earlier in her memory.

Two kisses.
Left. Right.
Done before thought.


Tío claps once.
Everything shifts.
Rhythm finds bones.


Children run under chairs.
Under voices.
Under history.

 

[Stephie02]

Im just finding these now?!

 

[SmilingLez]

Im just finding these now?!

You inspired me

 

[Stephie02]

You inspired me

Me?

 

[SmilingLez]

Me?

You are a proud Latino woman. The world is full of hate

 

[Stephie02]

You are a proud Latino woman. The world is full of hate

It is, but not entirely. Your SIL is too, right?

I am proud of my heritage, and I'm learning more about it, it's complicated how I was raised, but I've never been fully exposed to Latin/Mexican traditional culture, just parts of it.

 

[SmilingLez]

It is, but not entirely. Your SIL is too, right?

I am proud of my heritage, and I'm learning more about it, it's complicated how I was raised, but I've never been fully exposed to Latin/Mexican traditional culture, just parts of it.

With all the ice stuff, I want people to realize how rich and loving the Latin / Hispanic/Spanish culture is. If someone wants to judge, let them judge the person for who they are not their race religion gender ethnicity etc.

I have not met a person who is unable to say I feel/hear the joy in Mariachi music

 

[Stephie02]

With all the ice stuff, I want people to realize how rich and loving the Latin / Hispanic/Spanish culture is. If someone wants to judge, let them judge the person for who they are not their race religion gender ethnicity etc.

I have not met a person who is unable to say I feel/hear the joy in Mariachi music

Latin music and food is the best of everything!

And I agree.

There is so much joy in Latin music, and Love of life I think. Mariachi is so much fun! I learned how to dance to Latin music and it's still my favorite to dance to.

 

[SmilingLez]

Latin music and food is the best of everything!

And I agree.

There is so much joy in Latin music, and Love of life I think. Mariachi is so much fun! I learned how to dance to Latin music and it's still my favorite to dance to.

I was just going to post the two stanzas that I finished about the music

Trumpets cut the heat -
bright, brassy flames,
drums slam ribs,
maracas rattle like lightning across bare shoulders,
guitars lick the sun off tiled rooftops.


And then -
a trumpet wails alone,
cuts the frenzy into a single breath,
the air catches in your stomach,
your heart hits your ribs,
everything beautiful, everything loud,
everything burning and fleeting,
leaves you hollow
and aching
and alive.

 

[Stephie02]

I was just going to post the two stanzas that I finished about the music

Trumpets cut the heat -
bright, brassy flames,
drums slam ribs,
maracas rattle like lightning across bare shoulders,
guitars lick the sun off tiled rooftops.


And then -
a trumpet wails alone,
cuts the frenzy into a single breath,
the air catches in your stomach,
your heart hits your ribs,
everything beautiful, everything loud,
everything burning and fleeting,
leaves you hollow
and aching
and alive.

Now I wanna go to the salsa club here, been ages!

 

[SmilingLez]

This is more show don't tell

I still don't know what to chop though. Perhaps I should veer off my normal course of stark staccato visceral shorties.

Cinnamon stings the tongue
Chili bites, lime bites back
Plantains hiss in hot oil, tortillas steam
Mango juice drips down wrists
Chocolate thick sweet, and sticky
The air tastes alive
Rich. Wet. Urgent.

Connecting food with family with love. More thoughts

"Come eat.”
Not invitation.
Rule.

Table appears fuller than room allows.
Somehow normal.

Bread breaks.
No ceremony.
Just hands.

Salsa spills onto plate edge.
No one stops it.

 

[SmilingLez]

Connecting food with family with love. More thoughts

"Come eat.”
Not invitation.
Rule.

Table appears fuller than room allows.
Somehow normal.

Bread breaks.
No ceremony.
Just hands.

Salsa spills onto plate edge.
No one stops it.

Title - La Casa Viva


Expanding - letting life in. I have a feeling that when done this free verse will exceed my four flash fiction stories as far as a word count. It will probably exceed my free verse Our Saturday Night Ritual at 1297 words


Door opens
Pasa.”Mija"

Abuela already speaking before anyone arrives.
Smiling mid-motion
Laughing.
Like you arrived earlier in her memory.

Two kisses.
Left. Right.
Done before thought.

Children run under chairs.
Under voices.
Under history.

"Come eat.”
Not an invitation.
Rule.

Table appears fuller than room allows.
Somehow normal.

Tío claps once.
Everything shifts.
Rhythm finds bones.

Kitchen already awake.
Breathing heat.

Oil pops sharp and happy.
Garlic rises fast, fills corners.
Onion softens into sweetness.
Chiles snap and deepen.
Citrus breaks open like laughter.

Aromas
dancing,
weaving,
every corner,
every block,
every home

Bread breaks.
No ceremony.
Just hands.

Cinnamon stings the tongue
Chili bites, lime bites back
Plantains hiss in hot oil, tortillas steam
Mango juice drips down wrists
Chocolate thick, sweet, and sticky
The air tastes alive
Rich. Wet. Urgent.

Salsa spills onto plate edge.
No one stops it.

“Ven, mijo.”
It lands like warmth, not instruction.

"Órale.”
Someone laughs too hard.
Coughs. Keeps laughing.

 

[SmilingLez]

And I mustn't forget my poet's note. It hits hard but that's the point

La Casa Viva is my love letter to the Latino, Hispanic, and Spanish communities. A refusal to let them be blamed as a whole for the actions of a few. My free verse honors their real lives, not the distortions and stereotypes placed on them.


Even stronger and I think I might go with this. I hate the pettiness that divides us

La Casa Viva is my love letter to the Latino, Hispanic, and Spanish communities. A refusal to let them be blamed as a whole for the actions of a few. I’m not here to indulge the people who flatten entire cultures because it’s easier than seeing individuals clearly. This work honors real lives, not the distortions and stereotypes placed on them.


20ish me would have written the following

La Casa Viva is my love letter to the Latino, Hispanic, and Spanish communities. A refusal to let them be blamed as a whole for the actions of a few. I’m not here to indulge the people who flatten entire cultures because it’s easier than seeing individuals clearly. This work honors real lives, not the distortions and stereotypes placed on them. Fuck the bigots!!

Edit: it was good to let that out. 20ish me should come out more often

 

[SmilingLez]

My muse decided to not let me sleep. I was up most of the night and finished La Casa Viva. I will submit it to Literotica's main site (Non erotic) this week after I do the final read. It is about 300 words. I will also cross post in the 2026 Poem a week thread. Damn I am beat.

 

[SmilingLez]

My muse decided to not let me sleep. I was up most of the night and finished La Casa Viva. I will submit it to Literotica's main site (Non erotic) this week after I do the final read. It is about 300 words. I will also cross post in the 2026 Poem a week thread. Damn I am beat.

Finally finished and live (almost 400 words). It is actually a free verse micro fiction hybrid. I already have a one bombing troll follower. I guess I am officially part of the Literotica universe.

La Casa Viva

 

[Angeline]

Finally finished and live (almost 400 words). It is actually a free verse micro fiction hybrid. I already have a one bombing troll follower. I guess I am officially part of the Literotica universe.

La Casa Viva

I gave you a five and I encourage anyone who lurks or posts here to click the link, read and then vote on this poem. Lez worked long and hard on it. To me the poem's power comes from an avalanche of images that engage all the reader's senses. You can smell the food, almost taste it, hear its sizzle and the salsa music playing, see the grandparents' and their loving smiles and greetings. It's so atmospheric: that's at least a five in my book!

ETA: Now I'm hungry for some empanadas or tacos with crema and guac! And maybe a rewatch of Bad Bunny's Superbowl halftime show.

 

[SmilingLez]

My latest assortment of words to play with.


Your mind — taken.

Not offered.
Not negotiated.

Taken.
By me.

Your mind — an instrument.
Strung tight.

I strike.

One sound —
your spine answers.

You don’t know why.

You won’t.

Hunger — installed
in you.

Feels like yours.

It isn’t.

Your hollow — cut open.
Left that way.

I don’t fill it.

I let you feel it.

Then —

one word.

You reach.

Of course you do.

Your want —
built.

Layered
inside you.

Hidden
where you don’t look.

You feel it first.

Skin — before thought.

Always before thought.

Your heat.
Your need.

You carry it.

I name it.

Your body follows
what your mind
hasn’t caught yet.

Verb s—
written into your soul.

Shudder.

Quake.

Yield.

Not suggestion.

Response.

Your surrender —

not chosen.

Triggered.

A period.

Stop.

Silence —

finishes it.

Opens you
without touch.

Strips you
past what you call yourself.

You — seen.

Completely.

And still —

you don’t leave.

Still —

you stay.

Still —

you wait
for the next word.

Every time.