Outside My Window
Outside my window,
There are no hummingbirds
No creeks or tadpoles
A broken sunshine greets me everyday
or sometimes the occasional "YO! Vanessa!"
Outside my window,
Old men sit in the company
of a nice cold Bud
checking out the pretty young thang
strutting by
in her skin tight jeans
and flashy gold hoops with her name in the middle
You know,
just in case he forgets.
Outside my window,
Children play Tag on cracked sidewalks
A melody rolls up the street
and they run like roaches into their homes
to get a dollar from their momz for ice cream
Sometimes a $1.25 if you want jimmies…
Outside my window,
I hear a car radio system that rattles
my screen door every god-damn time!
I wonder:
"How can all that come from this tiny Honda?!"
Some pendejo wants to get noticed…
Outside my window,
The women of the block
sit out on their stoops
and gossip about the lady next door who
was fighting with her husband last night
at 3:30 a.m.
Even though their eyes were closed,
their ears were wide open…
Outside my window,
a crackhead
tries to sell me a gold link chain for twenty dollars
I can tell by his eyes
he wants to use the money to go around the corner
and buy his poison
Feed his addiction…
Outside my window…
Don't feel sorry for me,
This is who I am…
Don't feel sorry for me,
This is who I am.
Outside my window,
There are no hummingbirds
No creeks or tadpoles
A broken sunshine greets me everyday
or sometimes the occasional "YO! Vanessa!"
Outside my window,
Old men sit in the company
of a nice cold Bud
checking out the pretty young thang
strutting by
in her skin tight jeans
and flashy gold hoops with her name in the middle
You know,
just in case he forgets.
Outside my window,
Children play Tag on cracked sidewalks
A melody rolls up the street
and they run like roaches into their homes
to get a dollar from their momz for ice cream
Sometimes a $1.25 if you want jimmies…
Outside my window,
I hear a car radio system that rattles
my screen door every god-damn time!
I wonder:
"How can all that come from this tiny Honda?!"
Some pendejo wants to get noticed…
Outside my window,
The women of the block
sit out on their stoops
and gossip about the lady next door who
was fighting with her husband last night
at 3:30 a.m.
Even though their eyes were closed,
their ears were wide open…
Outside my window,
a crackhead
tries to sell me a gold link chain for twenty dollars
I can tell by his eyes
he wants to use the money to go around the corner
and buy his poison
Feed his addiction…
Outside my window…
Don't feel sorry for me,
This is who I am…
Don't feel sorry for me,
This is who I am.
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DOING POETRY?
I've been writing poetry since I was eleven years old, but I didn't take it seriously until 2007 when I decided to self-publish my first collection of poems.
WHAT POETS HAVE INFLUENCED YOU?
So many: Maya Angelou, Sonia Sanchez, Cherrie Moraga, Langston Hughes, Audre Lorde, Kim Addonizio, Pablo Neruda. I'm also influenced by the many writers I've met on Myspace and at open mics here in Philly.
HOW DID YOU BEGIN WRITING?
I started writing as a way of expressing myself. I have a shy, kind of reserved personality. When I was a kid I was really quiet and I held a lot of my emotions in so when I found myself liking this boy in my sixth grade class I drove myself crazy with emotions until I finally put it to paper and wrote him a love poem. It was a great release. I realized it was easy for me to write what I wanted to say and how I felt so ever since I've kept journals of poems and shared them with friends.
ANY ARTIST INFLUENCE YOU?
Music is a major influence - Jay-Z, Freeway, J-Dilla, Slum Village, Thicke, Kanye West, Esthero, System of a Down, Amy Winehouse, The Beatnuts, The Roots, Lauryn Hill, Talib Kweli, Dave Matthews Band, Regina Spektor, Living Legends, Atmosphere and so many more. I love powerful lyrics.
HOW OFTEN DO YOU WRITE?
I write every single day. Whether its a pocket poem, a long poem, a journal entry, or even if its just one line that hit me in the middle of the night, I have to write! I don't feel inspired to write a poem everyday, but I make an effort to put something on paper daily.
WHAT INSPIRES YOU ON A DAILY BASIS?
People. Life. My neighborhood and my surroundings. I am a people-watcher. I like to observe people and make up stories about them in my head which usually comes out as a poetic piece because that's the way I think. Everything inspires me. I can walk down the street and find inspiration in something that I feel or something that I see.
BREAK DOWN "OUTSIDE MY WINDOW" AND THE EMOTIONS BEHIND IT?
Outside My Window is a poem about my neighborhood in Philly. It's basically an observation of a day on the block - what I see and hear, the good and the bad. At the end of the poem I go on to say "Don't feel sorry for me, this is who I am" - what I mean by that is I am so much more than where I live. This is who I am because it will always be a part of me. However, you know how they say the world is bigger than the hood, who I am and what I want to be is bigger than the hood as well. I think everyone can relate to that.
I've been writing poetry since I was eleven years old, but I didn't take it seriously until 2007 when I decided to self-publish my first collection of poems.
WHAT POETS HAVE INFLUENCED YOU?
So many: Maya Angelou, Sonia Sanchez, Cherrie Moraga, Langston Hughes, Audre Lorde, Kim Addonizio, Pablo Neruda. I'm also influenced by the many writers I've met on Myspace and at open mics here in Philly.
HOW DID YOU BEGIN WRITING?
I started writing as a way of expressing myself. I have a shy, kind of reserved personality. When I was a kid I was really quiet and I held a lot of my emotions in so when I found myself liking this boy in my sixth grade class I drove myself crazy with emotions until I finally put it to paper and wrote him a love poem. It was a great release. I realized it was easy for me to write what I wanted to say and how I felt so ever since I've kept journals of poems and shared them with friends.
ANY ARTIST INFLUENCE YOU?
Music is a major influence - Jay-Z, Freeway, J-Dilla, Slum Village, Thicke, Kanye West, Esthero, System of a Down, Amy Winehouse, The Beatnuts, The Roots, Lauryn Hill, Talib Kweli, Dave Matthews Band, Regina Spektor, Living Legends, Atmosphere and so many more. I love powerful lyrics.
HOW OFTEN DO YOU WRITE?
I write every single day. Whether its a pocket poem, a long poem, a journal entry, or even if its just one line that hit me in the middle of the night, I have to write! I don't feel inspired to write a poem everyday, but I make an effort to put something on paper daily.
WHAT INSPIRES YOU ON A DAILY BASIS?
People. Life. My neighborhood and my surroundings. I am a people-watcher. I like to observe people and make up stories about them in my head which usually comes out as a poetic piece because that's the way I think. Everything inspires me. I can walk down the street and find inspiration in something that I feel or something that I see.
BREAK DOWN "OUTSIDE MY WINDOW" AND THE EMOTIONS BEHIND IT?
Outside My Window is a poem about my neighborhood in Philly. It's basically an observation of a day on the block - what I see and hear, the good and the bad. At the end of the poem I go on to say "Don't feel sorry for me, this is who I am" - what I mean by that is I am so much more than where I live. This is who I am because it will always be a part of me. However, you know how they say the world is bigger than the hood, who I am and what I want to be is bigger than the hood as well. I think everyone can relate to that.
Mo Better Blues
Baby,
you give me more better blues
The kind that sits around and lingers
in the bedroom where we used to.....
It's the kind that keeps my eyes wet, sore;
my heart withered and cold;
my wineglass full.
It's the kind that answers your phone
asking "Hello?"
I say,
baby its blue because it isn't red!
It isn't us...
our fire
you and I.
Take these blues away
I'll trade them in for a lighter shade
a sunny white day
where you know the right things to say.
If you were here,
I'd put your hands and mouth to good use...
Your hands will wipe these tears away
and your mouth will utter two little words.
But,
you give me more better blues...
Keeps my pen busy for weeks
and months
trying to decipher all of this blue you've placed upon me
haunting me
Sitting in a smoky room
congested with all that you had to say
and all that I did not want to hear.
Baby,
you give me more better blues
The kind that sits around and lingers
in the bedroom where we used to.....
It's the kind that keeps my eyes wet, sore;
my heart withered and cold;
my wineglass full.
It's the kind that answers your phone
asking "Hello?"
I say,
baby its blue because it isn't red!
It isn't us...
our fire
you and I.
Take these blues away
I'll trade them in for a lighter shade
a sunny white day
where you know the right things to say.
If you were here,
I'd put your hands and mouth to good use...
Your hands will wipe these tears away
and your mouth will utter two little words.
But,
you give me more better blues...
Keeps my pen busy for weeks
and months
trying to decipher all of this blue you've placed upon me
haunting me
Sitting in a smoky room
congested with all that you had to say
and all that I did not want to hear.
A Poem for My Mother
I am writing this to you
with hands that promise to be useful
Not solely for writing poems,
wiping tears
and making love
Because they are just hands
that will one day learn to
warm milk for little ones
Clean grains of rice
and build roots
outside
where my wishes grow
fast like weeds after April showers
I dream of a place - a home
where I will lay my heart and feet
live, create
and breathe until there is nothing left
I have dreams where these hands are not yours
but mine
entirely
and free
free…
I am writing this poem because
these dreams of a different home
will dismantle walls and tear down cities
Dance along the edges -
loosely
and gradually
but these hands will never forget
the warmth -
Always remember
the sacrifice
body, tears, and blood
I
will never forget that
you
were
my first home.
I am writing this to you
with hands that promise to be useful
Not solely for writing poems,
wiping tears
and making love
Because they are just hands
that will one day learn to
warm milk for little ones
Clean grains of rice
and build roots
outside
where my wishes grow
fast like weeds after April showers
I dream of a place - a home
where I will lay my heart and feet
live, create
and breathe until there is nothing left
I have dreams where these hands are not yours
but mine
entirely
and free
free…
I am writing this poem because
these dreams of a different home
will dismantle walls and tear down cities
Dance along the edges -
loosely
and gradually
but these hands will never forget
the warmth -
Always remember
the sacrifice
body, tears, and blood
I
will never forget that
you
were
my first home.
UNW - NV TORRES
Mon, 8th June, 2009
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