Tag Archives: Poem

Latino/a Poets

Forage

Forage

by Luisa Caycedo-Kimura

I turn clay soil, mound rocks,
squeeze grubs with my fingers.
My spade, the soil, a rasp.
A dry northeast heat wave.

When I was five, Mamá chopped
my hair. Niña salvaje, wild child,
always in a tangle. Holes in your jeans,
grass stains on your sweaters.

Through my hair, wind, dust, twigs.

Impatient bumblebees,
you know we’ll have flowers.

I pull quack grass,
plant deep-rooted cowpeas, mustard,
crimson clover.

Watch for the stealth
of a screech owl in flight.

Write a letter
to my dead mamá.

How does one awaken
this conflicted land?

Last night— a black bear
in the neighbor’s pool.
Last night, I almost held berries
for it in my hands.

 

Copyright 2019 Luisa Caycedo-Kimura

From All Were Limones (The Word Works, 2025); originally published in The Cincinnati Review, Volume 16.2, 2019.

Used by permission of the author.
Latino/a Poets

Slapping Bones

Slapping Bones

by Ines P. Rivera-Prosdocimi

For Julian Ramirez

In a house whose writer disappeared,
cluttered by clothes hangers,
pads he’d stitch into shoulder seams
& the roosters his boss nurtured
for the cockfights, he’d tell me stories
of el campo, where the flamboyans
sat apart & cane stretched out for miles.
Backroads where you could breathe,
bachata’s beat like a distant drum
leading you. The pain in those songs
felt good that last night we were innocent.
He made a cat a paper cup shirt.
I pushed the cuticles of his left foot,
cutting nails that’d snap—and—fly.
Frank Reyes sang Vine a decirte adios
when we took our dominos out,
smacked one after the other
on the concrete floor, looking out
for the double-six promising to come;
each black pip that stared us in the face.

(2019)

Used by permission of the author.
Latino/a Poets

Lunch Walk

Lunch Walk

by Bessy Reyna

He came bouncing down the street,
heavy body, long hair, jacket and tie.
There was an oddness about him.
Then, as he approached
I heard the sound of maracas
coming from his pockets.
Was it candy?
I pictured hundreds of multi-colored sweets
crashing against each other,
he, oblivious to the crackling rhythm.
Along Capitol Avenue
our paths crossed,
lunch break nearly over.
How can I explain
being late for work
because I was following a man
who sounded like maracas?

(1997)

Used by permission of the author.
Jupiter Hammon

A Poem for Children with Thoughts on Death

“A Poem for Children with Thoughts on Death” (1782)

by Jupiter Hammon

This piece was written as a moral guide for young people. Like much of his work, it focuses on spiritual preparation, the afterlife, and the importance of faith. It is one of the most approachable of Hammon’s writings for students today, especially for discussing how religion shaped the lives of African Americans during this era.  Continue reading A Poem for Children with Thoughts on Death →

Jupiter Hammon

An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatley

“An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatley” (1778)

by Jupiter Hammon

This poem, composed while in Hartford, was dedicated to Phillis Wheatley, a fellow Black poet and devout Christian. Although the two never met, Hammon admired Wheatley’s work. His poem to her includes twenty-one four-line stanzas, each paired with a verse from the Bible. The address encourages her to continue writing and stay true to her Christian faith. It also shows Hammon’s belief in the power of Black literature to inspire and guide others. The poem highlights the intellectual exchange between early Black writers. Continue reading An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatley →

Jupiter Hammon

An Evening Thought

“An Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ, with Penetential Cries” (1761)

by Jupiter Hammon

In 1761, Hammon became the first Black poet published in the United States when his poem, “An Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ with Penitential Cries,” was printed as a broadside in Hartford. Written on Christmas Day in 1760, the poem expresses his deep Christian faith and marks the beginning of a decades-long literary career. This is Hammon’s first published poem and a foundational piece in the history of African American literature. Continue reading An Evening Thought →

Lydia Huntley Sigourney

Indian Names

Indian Names

by Lydia Sigourney

“How can the Red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and territories, bays, lakes and rivers, are indelibly stamped by the names of their giving?”

YE say they all have pass’d away,
That noble race and brave,
That their light canoes have vanish’d
From off the crested wave
That mid the forests where they roam’d
There rings no hunter’s shout;
But their name is on your waters,
Ye may not wash it out. Continue reading Indian Names →