These three poems of mine (The last one is an acrostic) were just published by Somos En Escrito, an online literary journal. Click on the arrow above to listen to a song I wrote.
La Luna Canta
(The Moon Sings)
Do you ever wonder about the moon?
Does she laugh your laughs?
Does she cry your tears?
She’s present at our births
La luna canta…
our funerals
La luna canta…
and many moments in between
La luna canta…
But her song seems distant
out of step with
her people, our walk.
She turns her back to
the priest and the two brothers
on their way to fill out forms
that demand information already given
La luna canta…
a dinner of sardines and crackers
that won’t stop their hunger
La luna canta…
a walk silenced by
the chatter of fallen branches and vigilant snakes
La luna canta…
a cabin whose insides
serve as stage for dancing cigarette halos
La luna canta…
and suitcases of cardboard frames
housing royal treasures
they manage to keep through a night of
pillow fights
and cot-bound dreams…
La luna canta…
Oh, Queen of the Night
Why do you insist
on delivering
arias to your Pamina
when other children
are also kidnapped
by the selfishness of their fathers
and forced to live in captivity?
La luna canta…
They too need your song
La luna canta…
Tomorrow
when daybreak brings
the religion of the camp
and egg fights
outside the dining room
while you rest
Will they wonder about your song?
When a visit to the priest
presents them with more forms
that again ask the same questions
Will they wonder about your song?
Oh, moon,
Please show us our place of destiny
La luna canta…
Illuminate our waters and mountains
and forgive our sins
La luna canta…
Exhalt our births and cry at our losses
La luna canta…
Bless our riches
La luna canta…
Shelter our immigrants
La luna canta…
Sing moon,
oh, sing
a song we understand
La luna canta…
La luna canta…
La luna canta…
Do you still wonder?
Do you still wonder
about the moon?
2) She Ain’t Listening
Don’t ask the moon for a blanket, woman,
Because your infant kicked his feet to the skies,
His skin painted blue, water drowning his breath.
She ain’t listening,
The Moon.
Nights are shattered by the march of soldiers
And the sound of weapons kidnapping husbands
From their bedrooms
By the eyes of neighbors in windows
Partaking of fiestas
To which they have not been invited
By the sobs of children going to bed hungry
And crying for their papás to come back.
Don’t ask the moon for a lullaby, woman
Because your sons left your breasts
To suck on foreign milk.
She ain’t listening,
The Moon.
Nights you spend now pleasing husbands
Who want your sex but not your worries.
Writing letters to children who don’t hear your voice
Thinking of days that have lost their childhood
And of lines you’ll have to join
For food you may never get
Planning journeys that perhaps
Won’t be.
Woman, whose heart can’t stop weeping at the
Empty beds that don’t sleep
The toys that don’t play
And the shoes that have stopped dancing.
Don’t ask the Moon for promises
She…ain’t listening.
She…ain’t listening.
But…I will.
3) The Moon
Tobacco no longer soothes your nerves. Nor does the Ouija board.
Happiness left a month ago with a telegram and visas for America
Every night now, after your rosary, you invite her in for a visit.
Making for her the one meal you can swallow: pan y café con leche. How
Odd, you think at first, that she won’t eat. Food is rationed.
Others would be grateful for the sustenance. They might even ask to read Loren’s letters
Never does she reveal her politics. Nor does she care about yours. Her silence is her friendship.
Tomorrow when you prepare for her visit–she’ll be punctual–and your husband asks what gives you such pleasure, you’ll smile and say It’s just… The Moon
LORENZO PABLO MARTINEZ 
Reblogged this on LORENZO PABLO MARTINEZ and commented:
A mini memoir in poetry
Dear Lorenzo, kudos for La Luna Canta! I thoroughly enjoyed reading it; you conveyed clearly the experiences you had as a Pedro Pan living in a boys camp. The uncertainty, doubts, family separation and daily struggles far from one’s beloved homeland and family is majestically portrayed. It appears that the moon was the only certain thing in an uncertain existence. Although my circumstances were a bit different, I could relate to every sentence in your fine poem. Thanks for pouring your heart in words and sentiments.
Dear Fernan,
Thanks for visiting my blog and leaving a comment. Your words, as usual, are beautiful and encouraging. As you know, a writer is always unsure how his writing will affect others. If only I can touch one person’s soul every time I write something, I’m happy, and you give me the fortitude to continue my journey as a writer. Thanks for your positive message, but most of all for being my friend.
Wonderful poems, Lorenzo. From reading your memoir many times, I can see these images of your words in my head.
Your niece has a beautiful voice.
Susan, thanks for stopping by and your nice comments. I was pleased to get the poems published online. When I tried to copy them to my blog, the format for the acrostic didn’t work. I couldn’t figure out how to do it. I almost took it out, but at the last minute decided that all three were published by “Somos en Escrito” and would keave it in, weird format and all. The point of my blog was to show that these three had been recognized by this literary online journal, so deleting one didn’t feel right, I agree about my niece. She does have a beautiful voice, She recorded that song for me for a project I was doing when she was a junior in college. I thought she had a lot of potential and would go into music, but she has turned into a successful marketing professional with her own company and clients all over the US. Has never taken a voice lesson or music class.