Lyrics, poetry and art all meshed together

Friday, March 30, 2007


He has me spinning with lust and perhaps the L word. It’s going on three weeks and I am floating with clouds transporting me to this sweet, wonderful world where I am all his. I am daydreaming again at work in front of my computer, this cheesy grin on my face won’t go away. Yeah last night was our hot series of bump and grind. He had me at hello, hello, HELLLLLLO

It’s 10:30 am; I wish the day would end quickly so I can see him later tonight. He is in my thoughts. My phone rings and I’m thinking it must be him.


“Hello, is this Katy?” a woman’s voice asked

“Yes, it’s she.”

She says, “This is Julie, you don’t know me…I heard the voicemail message you left in Greg's cell phone.”


She starts crying profusely. “I am his fiancée your number showed up in his cell phone.”

“Excuse me, fiancée?”

“Didn’t you know? Didn’t he tell you he has a woman?”

“No, he told me he’s divorced with two kids.”

“He divorced his wife two years ago in order to be with me.”

I am totally stunned by the revelation. My insides are boiling with anger and disappointment.

I say, “Look, I’m sorry to hear…”

She interrupts, “Did you sleep with him?”

I reply, “You need to talk to him, I have nothing to say to you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, I’m packing my shit and getting out of here. You can have him all you want.”

“I don’t want him. If I had known about you I wouldn’t have bothered, he lied to me so why would I want to be with such bastard?”

Julie barks, “He’s not going to find me here when he gets home…I don’t care what you do with him.”

I repeat calmly, “Julie, I don’t want him.”

After she hangs up on me, my phone rings again and it’s Greg apologizing and asking if Julie called.

I say, “It's over, I have nothing to say to you.”

“Katy, look, I’m sorry. I had no idea she was snooping...”

I raise my voice, “Snooping? She’s your fiancée, she has the right to snoop.”

“I still care about you.”

I hang up, he calls me again, blasting my phone but I don’t answer.

I am so disgusted.

My desk at work feels like a war zone, I want to run and lock myself in the bathroom and cry, instead I decide to write a poem dedicated to love, pain and anger.

My boss stops by my desk, “Are you okay?” she asks, noticing the tears

“Yes, just a case of heartburn.”

3/2007 by Cathy Delaleu
Art work by Teresa Brazen

Wednesday, March 28, 2007


You peer into my soul to find secrets
Your baritone voice is silky with mystery
Confusion keeps me prisoner in bed
You beg this tender body to share intimacy
Where the 3rd floor quakes an x-rated warning
I walk up to the valley of danger
You wait with euphemism in your eyes

Anxious to plunge into my world region
Darkness is a black porch
Your face and body fans a desirable flame
Gentle ness guide my hands to your hardness
You say, “Don’t be afraid of what’s natural”
But nothing is familiar
In the way you pull off my skirt
I am sprawled in your bed
You hold me like a five-year old
Caress my hair with your chin
Encourage me to touch your throbbing
A mosque with range frequencies
6 years later at 13
I am lost with broken journals
In blood soaked tears
My limbs are backwards
Skirt is upside down
I can’t stop the recollections
And Daddy is not here to shake them away
He can’t hear my nightmares
the surfaces where you scratched
your name
© 3/2007 C. Delaleu
Art by Ileana Frometa Grillo


· Thanks to HIM the weather sheds no tears only rays of sun
· The new I-pod I bought for myself, FINALLY up to date with technology
· Everything bagel with cream cheese was my hefty but satisfying breakfast
· “Weary” song from soulful Amel Larrieux that continuously plays in my head “if I could trust someone to have my back and never do me wrong, then I would give my love…”
· Lorraine who took the time to read in 2 days- 120 pages of my latest manuscript and giving great feedback
· Courage allowing me to peek at the past without any display of hatred or anger

Sunday, March 25, 2007

I did get a chance to do some painting over the weekend, not much yet very relaxing.

The first pic is Carnival Girls, #2 Daydream Lovers and #3 Invisible Ocean Girl. I'm curious to know which is your favorite among them :) come on tell me, don't be shy.

I must thank Constance for pushing me to get back to my love of art, sometimes it's not easy to tackle writing and painting but they are both therapeutic and sinfully addicting.

Friday, March 23, 2007


I was bored out of my mind, sitting at home watching TV on a Friday night.
I could have gone to this party where my brother was dj'ing but I wasn't in the mood to be around a lot of people. I get an unexpected phone call from Clint, this guy from around the neighborhood. It was nice to hear his sexy Jamaican voice.

"What are you doing?" he asked

"Nothing, just watching TV."

"Let's watch a movie together, wanna come over?"

"Sure." I was flattered, he had never invited me over and I couldn't wait to spend time with him.

It took me ten minutes to get to his apartment. Well, it wasn't exactly his place, he had a room at his mother's. He opened the door, gave me a kiss on the cheek and I followed him to the bedroom. It was a small room, the queen-sized bed took most of the space. The TV on top of a dresser was facing the bed. I sat down, pretending to look at the screen, but my mind was elsewhere. Clint made me feel comfortable by massaging my shoulders and kissing me on the neck.

"What movie do you have?" I asked.

"Tell me what you're in the mood for," he said.

That was easy. I turned around to look at him with desire. He knew. Clint leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips.

"Are you sure?" he asked

We created our own screenplay that night and I walked back home in a daze. That week I couldn't wait to see Clint again. I was calling him almost every night but he was never home. It wasn't until I bumped into one of his friends that I found out some news.

"Yo, you can't catch feelings for Clint, he's a good guy but has too much drama. He just got out of prison for selling drugs, unless you don't care about that," his friend said to me.

I was devastated.

The following week, Clint was the one calling me like crazy. I avoided all his phone calls knowing too well I didn't want to be with someone who has a track record.

Six years went by, i'm at a poetry spot in Brooklyn when I noticed this good looking brother staring at me, at first I didn't recognize him, then I remembered those lips.
He approached me and shook my hand.

"Would you like to catch a movie?" he said amusingly.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Clint, my goodness, what are you doing here?" I asked

"I always wondered about you. I heard about your book and poetry, so here I am. How come you never returned my phone calls?"

I shrugged. "No reason. I had a lot going on back then." I kept the conversation brief then walked away. My girlfriend who was there pulled me to the side.

"Damn, do you know who he is?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah, an ex-con," I mumbled.

She shook her head. "Girl, he cleaned up his act years ago and is doing very well for himself. He got his own accounting business and he got money."

I glanced back at Clint who was busy chatting with two other ladies. He caught me staring and his generous smile melted my heart.

I walked away not accepting his offer for another movie. Sometimes it's best not to recreate a blockbuster film especially when the romantic trailer is a classic release.

Was it a mistake to walk away? Too late for me to wonder.

by Cathy Delaleu
Art work by Teresa Brazen

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

It is time for a change and today
I am a woman spellbound with confidence
My literature stems from a spirit in search of freedom
In search of this meaning of contentment
Loving my habits without distinctions
The enrolled years of pain have evaporated
My follicles sing a petition
I'm at peace
I am granted security at last
(c)3/2007 by Cathy Delaleu

Today my Gratitude is short, very, very short :) and I must say it's worth it...

I'm grateful for:

* Marvin, my hairdresser whom I gave the green light to chop all my hair last night. "I'm cutting off your stress," he said to me yesterday and it felt like he was cutting off many years of heartache and pain. I feel and look different.

* Spring in the air, flowers blooming in every color

* Veggie egg-white omelette: lil bit of cheese, red peppers, scallions, mushrooms and a lil bit of hot sauce

* Jerk chicken soup, ummmmmmmmmmmmm, that was my lunch for today and it quickly warmed me up inside

* Cracker Jack, that was my snack and it's one of my favorites :)

* Sweet Butter body mousse I bought from Quench Essentials, it caresses the skin with sweetness and it smells heavenly. This vendor is a talented blogger, I suggest you all to check out his website

Friday, March 16, 2007

She’ll pretend happiness was present
Fluttered sweetly on her flesh
Revived fantasies shaped like butterflies
Roaming freely inside her heart
The whispers are questions
Wounds made with droplets of tears
His sustenance was her scent
This is the end
He was once the beginning of her sentence
High in context
Her words unwind into a comma
With a mere period after his name
© 3/2007 by Cathy Delaleu
Artist: Lara Jade


It takes five dates for her to figure out he isn’t the one. The first date always sweet, soft and mellow, almost like a walk in Central Park at noon with leftover rain still moist on the ground and the potent smell of daisies. The second date sweet with the taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows in a small café, the intimacy almost giving her a cavity. She starts to believe his intentions are genuine when on the third date; popcorn and giggles are shared during movie night at his place. By the fourth date it’s blissful with dinner he prepares himself. Her heart grows soft for this near-perfect gentleman until…

1PM at work

“I thought you were going to eat at your desk,” he says over the phone.

“I changed my mind, I decided to eat downstairs,” she tells him.

“Who did you lunch with?”

“Some co-workers,” she replies.

“Men or women?”

“Huh? What kind of question is that?”

“Answer the question, were they men or women you lunched with?”

“Does it matter? Do I have to answer that question?”

“No, you don’t have to. I was just wondering.”

She finds it strange. The question didn’t make sense to her.

Their fifth date is when he tells her he is falling in love. She doesn’t feel the same.

“And why not?” he demands

“We hardly know each other”

“Are you interested in someone else? Is that the problem?” he says, raising his voice

“Yes, there is someone else. I can’t love you when I’m in love with myself.”

She walks away with a satisfied grin on her face. The signs were there all along, it takes five dates for her to see his true colors.
Poof, be gone!

Monday, March 12, 2007

Hello Everyone, hope you all had a wonderful weekend. The weather was nice, upper 50's and the sun was blessing us with its rays so I couldn't complain. On my way to work this morning I rushed to the newstand and grabbed myself the April issue of Essence Magazine to see if my name is really on it. If you all get yourself a copy, my poem "Morning Birth" is on page 187 of Essence, with my name "Cathy Delaleu". I was jumping up and down as if I won the lottery and I showed the street vendor the magazine, "Hey, i'm famous!" I shouted. He looked at me with this New York nonchalant attitude.

This is a great way to start the spring.

The poem is not in my book so you will need to get yourself a copy of Essence :) hehehehe and my next poem which will be featured by them again is "Confused Being" on page 119 of my poetry book.


Friday, March 09, 2007


EACH word created brings you closer to him
You hug love one last time
Knowing you belong to heartache
You’re not educated
But tongue speaks knowledge when we kiss
You’re not a poet who rocks with style
Dior is not your Christian
You want to be noticed
To be called beautiful
So you toss to the world your costume jewelry
Pile them high on the Brooklyn Bridge
Swinging your nylons on fire
They burn sending ashes to the wind
Another stands near
Mimicking your tears
She sinks her life savings and profanity in a box
Waiting for you to do the same
You color your hair with mud
They will notice your climax
Tap dance your yearning
Your cries inescapable
With this obsession to be you again
© 3/2007 by Cathy Delaleu
Painting by Cyn McCurry

Just want to show you all the latest painting from my sister, Magalie which i've purchased from her. I'm so excited, I can't wait to display it on my walls at home. The name of this painting is "Calypso Heat". Check out more of her work here