Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Sofia Catalina: abstract scenes with vivid imagery
Do her poems seem like nonsense, or hidden meaning?
- Swollen Land
- Fingers crack beneath the soles of my feet
- Delicate bliss seeps out from the tips.
- The cactus taunts me.
- There will be no running.
- My lips will splinter and bleed,
- But I will no longer be thirsty.
- Disillusionment has made its peak on
- The horizon of my eyelashes.
- //
- Mother will sear the chicken like
- The swivels of the desert are seared
- On my skin.
- Rice will be fried to a sizzling gold
- Mimicking the flecks that were
- Once
- Embedded in an innocence
- That held
- My irises together.
- //
- I will wait.
- I will wait.
- The sand will stir in my lungs
- Preoccupying my needless desires.
- Tell them I am on hold.
- There will be cactus for us to bite.
- After She’s Gone
- Don’t forget to rub pesto on the rocks
- And dried out riverbanks
- Because then,
- We can pretend
- That it is moss
- Spit in the crusty
- Muddy holes
- To make ponds
- Nod your head when someone asks you:
- “Were you here when there were frogs?”
- As if you remember
- Peel the tangerines
- Gingerly
- A delicate slow
- That is that of a
- Child’s
- Chew the white
- Earthy veins
- Even slower
- For this is what our mother
- Tasted like
- Santa Luna
- You were found lying
- In the mud of
- The riverbed
- The water rushed
- Over your pale
- Body and exposed
- Two gleaming
- Opals
- In the shape of
- Your shoulders
- And we called you
- Moon.
Sofia Catalina
Sofia Catalina is an aspiring musician, artist, and writer. When she’s not working at the Fleet Science Center, she’s drawing aliens or playing the ukulele. She hopes to take her readers elsewhere by giving them abstract scenes with vivid imagery. Because of this, her poems may at times seem like nonsense, but she assures you that there is a hidden meaning behind the strangeness of it all.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Sofia Catalina: abstract scenes with vivid imagery
Do her poems seem like nonsense, or hidden meaning?
Sofia Catalina: abstract scenes with vivid imagery
Do her poems seem like nonsense, or hidden meaning?
- Swollen Land
- Fingers crack beneath the soles of my feet
- Delicate bliss seeps out from the tips.
- The cactus taunts me.
- There will be no running.
- My lips will splinter and bleed,
- But I will no longer be thirsty.
- Disillusionment has made its peak on
- The horizon of my eyelashes.
- //
- Mother will sear the chicken like
- The swivels of the desert are seared
- On my skin.
- Rice will be fried to a sizzling gold
- Mimicking the flecks that were
- Once
- Embedded in an innocence
- That held
- My irises together.
- //
- I will wait.
- I will wait.
- The sand will stir in my lungs
- Preoccupying my needless desires.
- Tell them I am on hold.
- There will be cactus for us to bite.
- After She’s Gone
- Don’t forget to rub pesto on the rocks
- And dried out riverbanks
- Because then,
- We can pretend
- That it is moss
- Spit in the crusty
- Muddy holes
- To make ponds
- Nod your head when someone asks you:
- “Were you here when there were frogs?”
- As if you remember
- Peel the tangerines
- Gingerly
- A delicate slow
- That is that of a
- Child’s
- Chew the white
- Earthy veins
- Even slower
- For this is what our mother
- Tasted like
- Santa Luna
- You were found lying
- In the mud of
- The riverbed
- The water rushed
- Over your pale
- Body and exposed
- Two gleaming
- Opals
- In the shape of
- Your shoulders
- And we called you
- Moon.
Sofia Catalina
Sofia Catalina is an aspiring musician, artist, and writer. When she’s not working at the Fleet Science Center, she’s drawing aliens or playing the ukulele. She hopes to take her readers elsewhere by giving them abstract scenes with vivid imagery. Because of this, her poems may at times seem like nonsense, but she assures you that there is a hidden meaning behind the strangeness of it all.
Comments