LYRICALLY I AM YOURS

2012-01-14T19:46:00.000-08:00

Keep on reading
Keep on writing
Keep on inspiring
Keep on dreaming
Then...
Wake up from your dream
To make it happen
Stuff your brain with fresh positive food
Keep on creating
Over
and
Over
and
Over

2011-11-28T11:41:00.000-08:00

I know I am not forgotten for I've been blessed over and over with a better health, good friends and laughter that keeps me going on a daily basis. Not to mention my art and poetry. I'm not able to stop drawing, painting and get very excited when I see colors. I love the blend of colors on canvas or in journals. I am loving life without complaint or negativity. Why have negativity when you can enjoy the simplest things in life?

By the way, if you're interested in purchasing some art, check out my art blog:

2011-10-27T22:03:00.000-07:00

My latest work of art, I give you "Organic Love". You can fit earrings or rings in there and it's made with moss on bottom. Very cute :) Have a goodnight, will be in creative boost again tomorrow.

2011-10-25T12:18:00.000-07:00

I need to get back to my roots with painting and writing. Rewind and move forward is the best medicine for the soul. I also want to share with others and to remind myself that although I've tripped and fallen, it's ok to get up slowly and dust off the negativity in my life. So, here I am again, to share with you all. I miss blogging and I miss a lot of things that used to excite me. I've decided to look back and start over. Now I found myself smiling and feeling the sunrays on my face.

2011-08-25T08:04:00.001-07:00

Her visual was flawless
She was every little girl’s dream
But I didn’t understand why she couldn’t be fed
Her stiffness was a mystery
I needed to hear how she felt
What she felt
She was too skinny
So with a needle I slashed open her lips
She was finally free
I stuffed some rice and beans inside her mouth
Her head grew bigger with all that food
She was no longer a beautiful Barbie
At least I can feed her

2011-07-01T17:49:00.000-07:00

Hello blogger friends,
I know it's been ages. It's wonderful to see you around inspiring us with your art and poetry, although I am aware that most of you are in Facebook. If you'd like to keep in touch that way please send me your name in Facebook where I often post my poems and art. Thanks for the inspiration and I've posted below my latest art and poetry for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

Naked Aggression

It is a struggle
To try to ignore those words
To stuff them in her closet for another decade
She is followed by this aggression
Emotions attached to her spine like summer
She is meant to embrace them intentionally
Her secret sword is her heart
Connected to his loins
Where she is guaranteed a soft spot
He is historically accurate
By her mass weapon
This naked aggression of love hangs between her thighs
Without explanation
She summarize her naked aggression
In silence
(c)2011 by Cathy Delaleu

2010-11-05T19:52:00.001-07:00

Bruised Addiction

Dark
Shadow carved by swollen fingers
There must be a reason why his arrogance is a steady blade
A punctured wound to the spine
His dramas are memorized sweetly
Dents in my jaw line
I have rear-ended my heart to him
The perfect cartilage of a man
In my bruised eyes
He can do no wrong
No matter how hurtful
His words hold me hostage

I claim he is my cosmic warrior
Skips and hops all over my field of dreams
Traditional with the profanity of his lips

Yet I see divinity
I see longevity
I see dignity
I don’t look in the mirror
Afraid to view the lies
To feel the stings
The cuts from this King
My King

By the end of the day
We are “one”
I will come up with a name
Suitable to place on his bumper sticker
Maybe written “athletic hero” or “King Mufasa”
His blistering heat leaves me with serious sunburns
He was taught the way to a woman’s heart is with the use of his fist
I changed my status to “abused female”
My silent cry to family and friends
Afraid to let his own mother know
My funeral has come and gone
Her son is a serial killer
I’m his daily cold case
He wraps around my throat emotionally
Leaving me for dead
With controversial kisses
As angry as a powerful storm tonguing me to the ground
He wants me to remain there
With all his debris
Waxed on my flesh
Repeatedly with symptoms
Addicted to the way
He loves me
He loves me
He loves me
Not
© 2010 by Cathy Delaleu

2010-06-13T21:56:00.000-07:00

My thoughts in my daily journal

Hope you all had a great weekend. The heat in AZ is to die for, literally. I stay in most of the weekends unless I need to go food shopping or head to the librairy. Yeah, I know, you're probably thinking "the boring life", but that's what I call relaxation.
First let me give you an update, i'm sure you're dieing to know what's been going on with me. I've been apartment searching, to me that's always fun, apartments here are so cheap and you get a lot for your money, my lease will be up in 3 months so I can't wait to fly high to a bigger and better place to call home.
On Saturday, she went to work until 4pm and I was at her place watching movies and chilling with her daughter, when she got home she suggested we go for a stroll in Prospect Park and we also stopped by the Brooklyn Librairy which is nearby. It was a hot day but it felt great being out feeling the nice breeze at the park and many people were barbequeing. I took some pics with my new digital camera but I have to figure out how to download them to my blog.

Moving is alwways a lot of work but i'm anticipating it with joy and excitement. Lately, I've been writing a lot of new poems and have been interviewed on Blogtalkradio.com about two of my upcoming books, I will keep you all posted.

My apartment right now is a matchbox, you can imagine living in a box when it's over 100 degrees outside, I do have air conditioner but it's so loud when you turn it on, and I hate noise. I shouldn't complain, cause at least I have a roof under my head :)

2010-04-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

My latest work has been with the use of acrylic and watercolor, i'm trying to lean more towards mixed media to bring some excitement to my artwork, I will of course post them when i'm done...

THE TAKE OFF

On bended knee Bocelli sings me Amore
While a plane lands on the highway
Cars speed us by blowing their congratulatory horns
His pleading words infuses a sadness
Mellow verses becomes philosophical
I am a frozen statue in a white organza
A mermaid with satin tears
The soft fabric flowing on my face gains public recognition
Paparazzi shouts out my name
I ignore the screams
The plane takes off in five minutes
I need to decide whether to board without his duet
Bocelli illustrates emotions throwing confetti rose petals
on my chapel length train
The 405 south consist of several traffic jams
“You won’t be back,” he yells
So I answer, “How deep is your devotion to me?”
He doesn’t reply
No point in telling him it’s too late
I march down the First Class aisle
Bouquet of black tulips kissing my hands
Amore
Amore is left standing
I watch from my window seat
the congested crowd follows him to Sicily
I get carried to another proposal
©2010 by Cathy Delaleu

2010-04-18T08:51:00.000-07:00

Hello Blogger World...

I haven't written a Gratitude list in a long time, so here goes:

Grateful for:

1. PASSION…God instilled passion in all of us and we’re the ones who decide whether we’ll share it with others or not, I chose to share :o) it’s a beautiful thing when you're passionate about life

2. LAUGHTER…I've had those moments in my life where I felt the sadness will never end, but conversations with my sister on the phone, she always seems to find a way to make me bubble with laughter, also my brother, it's therapeutic chatting with him and with friends

3. BURGER: Believe it or not, I haven't had a burger in 3 years, so I treated myself to In n Out Burger, I had the cheeseburge with grilled onions, it felt like a dream when I took a bite of it...before you know it, it disappeared off my hands.

4. PAINTING…I took a long break, got inspired to start over and I am enjoying it, I forgot though how expensive it could get when you purchase all these supplies. I did have a lot of leftover paint in my closet but some had to be re-stocked

5. BIRDS: They wake me every morning, I love the sound of nature, puts a smile on my face

6. PARIS: My blogger friend, Paris Parfait, for having the ability to take me to Paris whenever I stop by her world…seriously if you check out her blog you’ll be amazed at her European pictures. She has a great eye for photography; her treasured blog is worth browsing (http://parisparfait.typepad.com/)

EXPERIMENTATION

She will only show you what she’s willing to tell
Every part of her shell is a segment of confessional intimacy
The spool thread of her eyes is a meditative mist
Of secrets passed between solitude and separation
She is a diaphanous frame of special circumstances
A glass lantern of icicle tears
Don’t make attempts to love her
She can’t promise you her heart
It’s hard to lie on
Easy to use
Impossible to clean
© 2010 by Cathy Delaleu

2010-04-05T13:15:00.000-07:00

I was asleep on a dirt road until a warm wind greeted me on the cheek
The wind was heard chanting my name in Creole
“Wake up,” a voice said
I rubbed my eyes, yawned
My throat felt dry, lacking liquid
Tongue tasted like chalk
I looked around; palm trees were staring down at me curiously
The moonlight had its back turned, barely offering any shadows
Fireflies quietly were glowing their confessions
I could hear crickets like a serenading chorus
My long legs were caked by dust and dirt; my toes were painted in fluorescent green
“Where am I?” I asked the wind
“You’ve been asleep for seven years, you’re home”
I slept for so long I wasn’t tired
This burst of energy gave me the urge to twirl around and shout out my name
But there was silence, like death it gave me goose bumps
Then footsteps were heard, shaking the earth
It sounded like a whole village was hunting for me in the dark
“Here she is,” a heavy-bellied woman in a black scarf said, feasting her eyes at me
“She looks different,” a lean and tall man mumbled, he had missing teeth
“America made her weak,” another woman observed
“You’re old enough to join us now in the river,” the woman in the black scarf let out
“What river?” I asked
She pulled me by the arm, “Let’s go.”
I followed them
We were marching like soldiers
My legs strong enough to run if I had to
It felt like a century had gone by, and we were still walking
We wandered many villages, no one stopped to look at us
How strange, only the dogs, cats, chickens, pigs and donkeys reacted to our presence
When we finally arrived at the river, my hair had turned gray
throat was no longer dry
I touched my face and it was pleated with wrinkles
To my surprise men and women were in the river bathing in their clothes
All wore black
cheering and dancing fervently in the water like children
There was a full moon in the sky and drums vibrated in the air
“What are you waiting for? Get in the water,” one woman shouted at me
I dipped my big toe in
immediately felt the frigidness
With a grimace and curled lips I stepped back
The river was asking me riddles only an elder can answer but I declined
Suddenly, the big-bellied woman with the black scarf was laughing at me
Except now she was a young girl
she had to be at least eight years old
Was I hallucinating?
I rubbed my eyes for emphasis
all the men and woman in the river were kids
“Get in the water,” a voice shouted behind me
I turned around and it was a young boy wearing a black tattered shirt with a pipe in his mouth
“No,” I yelled back
He pushed me
I fell backwards with a scream
Body splashed in the iced cold water
I was shaking, panicking and cursing the boy out
Everyone had stopped dancing
they froze, watching me
Waiting for a transformation to occur
But nothing happened…
Instead, I was an old woman soaked in cold water
“America aged her too fast,” said the young boy with the pipe in his mouth
(c)2010 by C. Delaleu

2010-03-13T14:53:00.000-08:00

MAKE IT KNOWN
Make it known to society that poetry is the conjugation of hope
We gotta go there to spark your interest
And your parents will wonder where it came from
Did it start from infancy?
Why are you drawn to words like crack?
Your trails of verses make them nervous
They truly believe it will ruin their reputation
And their friends’ reputation
This is our healing process
We lay dreams on sheets of paper to heal the heart
Inch by inch
We go back to collect empty shells of memories
To promote
Make it known
Unapologetically who we are
Make it known we battle emotions
for a reason
Make it known
We are poets
For life
©C. Delaleu2010

It was a slow week for me, the weekend is dragging with a warm 70 degrees sun so i'm grateful...what i'm truly enjoying today is watching the Food Network and writing poetry, what more can I ask for?

2010-03-04T16:57:00.000-08:00

Hello Blogworld

A lot has happened since my last post, been in and out of the hospital, writing poetry, painting and drawing. Also got myself a new laptop which is great, it's much faster and now i'll be posting more pics and more poems. Thanks to all of you, prayers were heard and I feel so blessed. More poetry and short stories will be coming your way...

I
You want romance with sweetest taboo
I can’t provide such episode with your eyes alone
Or with lyrics and beats
We can only crawl together towards reality
Create messages with words
Words bring out the sunlight and heartache
Give me your heart
I will give you a future
A future with heartache attached on a string

II

Friends warn me about men like you
They say don’t daydream of your poetic words
I pull out the tiara off my short fuzzy hair to wake up to reality
I’m too hopeless
I am a dreamer of chocolate roses
tulips and butterflies
Your smile spreads smoothly on my sheets
You don’t touch yet still I can feel you admiring me
I am your goddess

III

Here comes your moon again glowing my way
I ignore the signs
Cross the streets and avenues in my white dress
Pretend I was your meal last night
The one you digested with such ease
Then you had that last glass of Merlot
Sang loud enough for your neighbors to hear
Last night I claimed your heart as if you won me
You own me
But I don’t belong to you
I never agreed to share your table
Never agreed to give you my heart
To give you my love
I left you drunk with tears
“My goodness, how dare you?” you screamed
I walk away cause’ it’s easier not to show I care
Easier not to love
Easier to tap dance with romance with notes
@2/2010

2010-01-17T22:01:00.000-08:00

TWAL ZWAZO (silk bird)
(tale of a Haitian woman)

Her space
The settlement of rusted flesh
A sense of isolation
Lamentation in her accordion dream
A female ventriloquist in a state of longing
Collaboration gelled in her empty eyes
Empty heart
Empty soul
Buried climax
Head wrapped with recitation
Knotted by horsehair with fish bones
Underskinned fighting for courage
Crucified by sleep without rest
Politics urinating blood
Leave streaks of revolt
Chained by poverty
With lack of literacy
She wants to be set free
From instability
Free from coup d’etat’s whips
Free from the ruckus
Those drop spits from the elite
Their legacy migrates seasons of drought
On eye sockets nestled in pus
No water to irrigate the peasants
My ancestors descended from Jeremie
Down the tiny hill of Rozeau
The village town where women eat mud with their toes
And men pour their wounds on Haiti’s soil
You will find her there
Sheltered in her carnivorous bones soft like manioc
Hairless with her virus
She will question you with a Mardi gras smile
Who are you?
What can you do to help your our people?
Take note
Grab a tape recorder
Her story she wants to be heard
Hurry before she flies away with Diaspora wings
Before she reaches the skies with claws of her spine
There is no rainfall in her coffin
No vegetation
The rivers have dried out
The scent of bones is present
©2010 by C. Delaleu

2009-11-25T23:14:00.000-08:00

MORNING BIRTH

At the sight of your love
I have summoned the skies to crack open
Its windows and pour a free verse of rain
White doves flutter sweetly like the song in your eyes
I understand how it’s possible for the heart
To speak in tongues when the morning mist
Covers more than a 100000 acres of handwritten deliverance
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu(PUBLISHED IN ESSENCE MAGAZINE IN 2006)

2009-09-22T17:39:00.000-07:00

The last time I fell in love was on top of a sunset
I left you in Fort Green diluting your emotions in
A jar of shea butter
You’re shirtless again
Ebony tinted skin polished with beauty
I see this magical landscape
It makes me want to die in your arms
Like Gone with the wind
I will never go hungry again
You’re the national treasure of my soul
I’m on top of your sunset
Watching you swim the modest waterways
Your name unpredictable to many
I catch your shiny star to show support
A woman who loves stands by her man no matter what the cost
Intense is this love
Your sculpture enhances an azure sky with sleeping dragons
You run fingers through my short hair
I am your dawn
Your camelback ride to paradise
Your tropical smoothie
The mineral oil that boost your unruly locks
We run together towards the sunset
You’re not afraid to stand next to me
It seems natural
Such a magical place
Remember the Good Times?
Even the moments we skipped breakfast
Our bellies full of love
No probiotic needed
Just the fragrance of guava and cocoa butter
You leave birthmarks on the sand
My name written with your footprints
You want me to practice my French
That way I call your name when the sun sets
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

9/24/09

Today was a good day. The sun was out and I was able to go for a nature walk. I treated myself at Barnes and Nobles, bought a journal, a vegeterian cooking book and poetry book by Nikki Giovanni. I was anxious, couldn't wait to get home to digest the poetry book and to write on my new journal. Expressing my thoughts is the best remedy, especially when you're dealing with an illness. Lately, i've been writing my little heart off with many poems...can't wait to work on the next book, it's about that time. In the evening, my mother came home and I showed her the cooking book, she fell in love with it and i suggested we try a new dish. We sure did. I chose to make asparagus soup...it was delish, thick, hot and flavorful. Mom loves to cook, so it was easy to convince to try something new for the palate.

2009-09-21T21:04:00.000-07:00

SCARS

Check for scars
For bruises hidden beneath your thighs
Unfold the secret garden of your tongue
With east coast stories of subway rides
One metro card will lead you to a potential mate
That makes you salivate
Remember
Scars won’t disappear on their own
They’re reminders of past mistakes
Created with your heart
While you run helpless without any resources
In a stranger’s bosom
Where you expect eternal bliss
The wakeup call is usually apparent
You pretend not to notice the scars
Still lingering on your back and chest
You want them to disappear with your notepad in hand
The use of dental floss to scrape off guilt, lies, pain
Entangled with Sunday confessions
You will never heal with prayer alone
It remains to be seen
The rust you left behind in your mother’s womb
Is an investment
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu Writings

2009-08-10T09:20:00.001-07:00

The power of writing has many consequences. It can reveal,inspire, destroy, elevate and sometimes it can be hurtful or brutal. Like some who consider suicide and leave their mark with an emotional letter, letting their loved ones know what caused them to end their life. I feel when you have that kind of gift to move people, it means all is not lost. God granted you these lovely hands and fingers for a reason.

The many challenges I had to face these past few months took a toll on my body. Yes, I did consider not to write in my blog and even allowed Mr. Writer's Block to take over. What made it worse is the ugly monster, I should say "my ugly demon" Lupus SLE (www.Lupus.org), came out of hiding again.

A year ago 2008, my life completely changed when Lupus paid me a nasty visit leaving me disfigured and I lost all the self-confidence I had in me. I was doing good in NY with a great job, my own apartment and many friends. But, sometimes you get a wake-up call...so I was unrecognizable physically and mentally, forget about emotionally. I felt not even a therapist can fully understand this illness.

I was diagnosed in 2007 and it's been a battle ever since. Yet, I'm blessed to wake up everyday with family and friends who show support. To understand this auto-immune disease, one must be very patient and non-judgemental. For example, people will look at you and think, "She's pretty,well, she don't act or look sick". Then, 3 months later, you're swollen all over, can't barely get out of bed and depression sets in. Your mind plays tricks on you, makes you believe no one gives a damn and you might as well die in your sleep.

Lupus SLE is not an easy illness to deal with cause in order to fight it, you must be mentally strong to do so and make yourself a list on how to be ahead of it. Lupus loves stress and depression, actually most Lupus sufferers are affected with joint issues due to stress. Also, Lupus loves it when you eat the wrong type of food, dairy and wheat will eventually send a Lupus SLE candidate to the hospital. I've been there more than once. Also, it does not tolerate excessive sun or cold winters. I live in 100 degrees AZ heat and i'm still struggling, but not as bad as when I lived in NY.

I was very hurt when a blogger friend told me of Nikki's passing. It's sad to hear such news, especially knowing she was so young. I'm sure sure Nikki wouldn't want us to dwell on her loss or illness. She was a great blogger, writer, feisty with her words. She would want us to remember her wonderful writing and beautiful personality. The more we do, the most we celebrate her life and her light will continue to shine. You can show your love by stopping by her blog (http://iniquitous1.blogspot.com), i'm sure her family would appreciate it. As for me, i'm taking it one day at a time with much prayer and meditation.

GRATEFUL DRUMROLL

1.Thankful for my mom who is a true believer of natural medicine and who is trying her hardest to make me feel better
2. The pouring rain that woke me up this morning and kept me smiling
3. Delicious salad I made for lunch and dinner
4. Jazz music which helps relax my body and mind
5. Phone call from friends who continue to show love and concern

NO ANSWERS

I can't tell you why we leave this earth
all I know is once we do
our footprints remain on the sheets we write on
we are never forgotten
family and friends will make sure of it

2009-07-16T13:11:00.000-07:00

Hello all!!

It's been a wonderful, steamy summer so far
Can't stop counting the many blessings
Just got back from my busy NY trip where I held
my poetry/art show in Manhattan on 6/21/09
It was the 2nd annual Tavern of Creativity
It turned out to be very uplifting with the 9 poets
who read their work and the 3 artists who got to promote
their beautiful, unique art
Already, I am planning for next year's event
I want to thank all those who showed support and
those blogger friends I got to meet for the first time
More pics will be posted soon

BOAT PEOPLE - English as a second language
We are all on the same boat
The same one that cradled us far far away
from our native country
On that shriveled boat we see our land
Slowly disappears out of sight
Scent of earth and seashells evaporates
We dip fingers in the cold sea water
To bring back memories shed from our flesh
As we make it to shore
Our womb screams for home
The unfamiliar swallows our feet in the sand
Cruel destiny proposed by this foreign land
This foreign language
It is not home
It will never be home
It can never be home
No orange sun in sight to kiss the mountains at night
No smell of coffee beans or fresh patties in the morning
No rooster crowing
No children in school uniforms with their bright smiles
No church bells ringing our joy on Sundays
No seduction of acoustic guitars and drums
To swing our hips until the wee hours
In this foreign land we are too old to enjoy life
Too cold for sweet kisses on the cheek
Too vulnerable to protect the young generation
We are all on that same boat
Cradling with our dreams of a better Haiti
We cradle until there’s no life left in us
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting for answers
We shall rise
Only if our dreams allow it
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

2009-05-27T17:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary

He glanced at me with a frown. "And what are you joyful about?"

"The sun is out and I feel no pain," I replied with a grin.

"So?"

"The flowers smiled at me, there's food in the fridge and I have no doctor appointments."

"What's the big deal?" He gave me a frustrated look.

"I'm alive and earth wants to hire me cause i'm grateful to be here."

"Then go, I have too much work to do, don't have time to be thankful for anything," he said.

Earth is hiring, apply now, he's not asking for much of your time. All he wants is for you to heal your soul with laughter, a simple smile or sweet gesture with nature, friends or family.

THE BEGINNING

The beginning is sweet
Like the first taste of strawberry sherbet
On a hot summer day
You can’t get enough
You want more to savor the palate

The beginning is a battlefield of rain and sun
Unpredictable
He turns it into a merry-go-round with his tongue
You contemplate the possibility
Of opening your heart without bleeding
Wondering if he will be the first Knight
To rescue you out of Brooklyn with his
Mighty sword
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

2009-05-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

FLOWERS and BLESSINGS

Here's my question to you: HAVE YOU TAKEN THE TIME TO SMELL THE ROSES?

I have. A year ago, I didn't (May 19, 2008) I was on a busted couch in Brooklyn, depressed and out of it. Not knowing if I was coming or going. I was very ill, fighting for my life or what little I had left of it. It was my birthday, which to me is like any other day, but on this particular day I really thought about what it would feel like to end it sweetly without being noticed by anyone. That's how bad it was, of course, a year prior (2007) I was diagnosed with Lupus SLE, so I know a lot of what I was feeling was due to the meds including steroids, stress and uncertainty of life. Today, I look back with a lot to be thankful for. My gratitude list looks more like a novel. Every breath I take when I wake up in the morning feels like a newborn feeding her lungs with the pleasures of life.

GRATITUDE:

1. I am HERE. I may not be 100% healthy, but I look at life daily with a smile. I am given little reminders, if i'm able to walk, talk AND write, then I have nothing to complain about, well, unless i'm hungry :)

2. I am appreciated and loved by many, even strangers. Someone once told me I inspire them simply because I have the ability to make them laugh

3. Grateful to create poetry, i'm writing more and more and loving it!

4. Grateful for a new license. I went to the DMV and got my AZ driver's license, it expires when i'm 75 years old, can you believe it? Hmmmmm, at 75, where will I be in my life? Perhaps, baking cookies with organically grown grand-mas or throwing sensual poetry on stage somewhere in front of some young hot men. I know i'll be one sexy grand-ma, no muumuus' allowed in my closet, corsets are acceptable, lol

5. Grateful for good movies like the Kite Runner, it was deep, moving and magnetic

6. Good food and cooking for friends, which is what I did on Monday, it felt great to give and not expect anything in return

7. Flowers and seashells, my mom has the most beautiful seashells in her yard, they are huge, I can almost hear the sea whispering to me when I close my eyes

8. I'll keep this list short and sweet, lastly, grateful for all my blogger friends, thank you for being supportive and pushing me to write my little heart out. I will continue to dream cause we are here to dream, not to look at the number of days we have left to live.

When was the last time you held a seashell in your hand or leaned over to smell some color flowers?

This is my favorite journal, I write on it daily and have kept many pictures that are dear to me of family and friends. I am sad that i'm almost finished with it, but can't wait to get me another one with more blank pages to fill.

I keep many wonderful memories inside my journal, even the cover must be meaningful. It's the perfect gift you can give to yourself

Please tell your friends and other supporters that they can listen to my first radio appearance with Urban Echoes by visiting www.blogtalkradio.com/voicesandvibes

Journaling

2009-05-17T20:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary

I have another way I want to tell you this story
Lately, I’ve been tipsy
Drinking him in like a good chocolate martini
Literally, sipping every ounce of him
Conversations flow
He fits well like a good support bra
More like strapless
Alluring and fierce
When he walks
The ground shakes his manliness
My garden purrs with moisture
Then he makes a confession
“I love to get my hands dirty”
“What do you mean?” I look oblivious, pretend not to understand
He gets on his knees, caresses the soil with the tips of his fingers
He picks a tiny flower among the wild lilies. “This is not meant to be ignored.”
The scent of jasmine surrounds us
“I love spring along with her stories,” I sighed.
“The moon is more interesting, spring to me is like a woman who constantly breaks your heart.”
“Are you serious?”
He shrugs, “she never stays, and she runs away once you pay her a compliment.”
I close my eyes, embracing the heat from the sun. “Well, I’m here, not going anytime soon.”
He gets up. “Really? And what season are you?”
“Would you like me to be your summer?”
He smiles, teeth as white as pearls. “You’ll give me heat then bounce.”
“Not true, you will always be hot.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I can handle heat, as a gardener it’s my specialty.” He steps close to my face, much taller than me and very easy on the eyes. The sun giggles along with my thoughts.
“So, tell me, do I need protection from your heat?”
“A good sunblock would help,” I respond, giving him a strange look.
He frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m looking for your imperfections, you hide them well.”
His dark brown face is shy at first. “That is what men are supposed to do; we reveal them when we’re ready.”
A week later, we are laying on green, lush grass listening to nature’s I-tune.
He admits, “I am left with a bad tan.”
“It’s the beginning of summer, enjoy it.”
I unbuckle his mind with my words.
He runs his hands over my soft, curly fro’. “Summer, I want you to stay,” he whispers in my ears.
Yellow tiny butterflies flirt around us.

“I can’t promise, it depends on how faithful you are.”
“I am willing to take care of you; flowers will bloom all over the world. I will water you everyday of the week.” His kiss long and slow is a poetic verse.
His promise is kept until September, and then he grows cold, distant and anxious.
“I need to hibernate,” his words a menacing whiz of fall.
My heart drops, the weather becomes menopausal, kicking the birds and butterflies away.
He is distracted, not looking at me.
“You have found someone new?”
“She is my fall.” He had no shame telling me this.
“She won’t stay long,” I warned. “Or love you like I do.”
The swirl of summer’s sweetness has disappeared.
He turns away
Not looking back
I vow his winter will be as bitter as my pain
His footprints resembles ugly watermarks with high definition on my journal
Quietly, I walk away
Knowing the moon has another story to tell
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

2009-05-03T14:52:00.000-07:00

2009-04-16T15:24:00.000-07:00

I am BACK to reality...I was away for almost 3 weeks and it was all worth it. I can't begin to tell you what a blast I had between promoting my poetry book, art and also spending time with friends and family. I don't even know where to start, but gladly I'll share pics of course.

One girlfriend I went to school with in Haiti, reunited after 24 years of not seeing each other.

My booksigning in Florida

Delaleu all bundled up on the Q train to Manhattan...hoooorray!!

My first poetry booksigning and art sale in Florida at Margate was such an eventful night, I will never forget it. It was the first time my father and his wife saw me perform on stage, including my cousins and aunt, my sister was also there and they were elated. Of course I took them by surprise with my sensual poems :) hehehehe
After the show, my father came up to me to say how proud he was. This was my first performance in almost 2 years, cause as many of you know, I had a stroke last May and had to move out of NY due to my battle with lupus. But, I've gained my strenght back, both spiritually and emotionally and with the support and love of my family and close friends. Sometimes, life bites you in the butt for a reason and only for a season in order to appreciate the moments you take for granted.
Mom and I at my cousin's wedding reception, it was a beautiful sunny day in Long Island

Reunited with friends I went to school with in Haiti over 20 years ago, I left Haiti at 13 years old, so it's been 24 years since I last saw those girls...it was a great reunion. I didn't sleep at all. We ate at a Cuban restaurant in Manhattan and stayed there close to three hours, chatting the night away.

Timesquare was a blast, I played tourist as if I've never been to NY or never lived there.

2009-03-11T10:47:00.000-07:00

Lately, there is hunger in my thoughts. Hunger for words, not complicated ones, just the simplicity of life and true meaning of words, how they can move many mountains and even cause us to ponder on what captivates our heart and soul. Lyrically, i've been bound and must release this hunger somehow, not allowing it to simmer for too long. Therefore, I had to share them with you...and include a small appetizer of words from my dearest friend and poet, Sonia aka Aminah Love. Please take the time to read her beautiful garden of words in her blog when you get a chance.

On My Mind
Many thoughts
Emotions
Creeping in my head
Thoughts of you
Floating
Toward me
Arms open
Heart exposed
Happiness transcending
Love encircling
The feeling of sitting
By a warm fireplace
Snuggled up close
The lingering scent
Of your body next to mine
The smile that illuminates
The darkest of rooms
Your tenderness
Your intense stare
Your amazing wit
Still...
Feel your lips on mine
Sweet nectar
Soft -- yet firm
Bodies pressing
Needing . . .
Fining . . .
Wanting . . .
See you soon.

Aminah Love
© 2009 Sonia Román

IN THE KITCHEN
It’s a banquet
It’s a feast
Eyes locked in one open space
We stand still
Feet tapping on granite
Knife as sharp as the mind
Eyes see beauty of colors
Pink salmon
Green avocadoes
Brown rice
Ripen tomatoes
Green parsley
White sweet potatoes
Nose smells the creation of something new
Something unfamiliar to many
For most usually rush to fast food to tame this hunger
But I tame it with bare hands
With fingers I create magic
In the heat of the moment
Cilantro and garlic evaporates in thin air
Onions and olive oil
All executed in a pan
Texture created is heartfelt
Eyes closed
Senses are renewed
Organically made
To be eaten slowly
Consciously
We are meant to savor this moment
In the kitchen
©2009 Cathy Delaleu
www.delaleuwritings.com

I was tagged by Stephen Bess to name 25 who have influenced my writing. There are so many on my list, more than 25, but I had to control the urge to keep it at 25...from watching movies, listening to music, poet, reading. It's hard not to admire the various artists who have tenderly kissed my path of inspiration. Here goes...

1. Sonia Sanchez
2. Ben Okri
3. Edwidge Danticat
4. Boadiba
5. Rob Bless
6. Chinua Akebe
7. Jill Scott (singer/poet)
8. Sandra Cisneros
9. Kenny Latimore (singer)
10. Alice Walker
11. Eric Jerome Dickey
12. SekouWrites (editor/writer)
13. Carol Taylor (editor/writer)
14. Emeline Michel (singer)
15. Black Orpheus (movie)
16. Sade (singer)
17. Chris Abani (writer/poet)
18. Saul Williams
19 Octavia Butler
20. Sarah Brightman (classical singer)
21. The Color Purple (movie)
22. Beloved (movie)
23. Eat, Drink Man Woman (movie)
24. Pride and Prejudice (movie)
25. Like Water for Chocolate (movie)

2009-02-04T20:23:00.000-08:00

FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Helas! You mounted my walls
With the tongue of your feet
Wondering when will I open up to you
When will I blossom into this butterfly with
The black and gold wings
When will I see you as my king?
Our paths are narrow yet strong
Close enough to feel your heartbeat
I didn’t asked to be touched
But you’ve expressed your yearning openly
I turn away in fear
A man like you capable to love my femininity
Capable of seeing through my fishnet eyes
Last night I cuddled your name in my sleep
It kept me awake for hours
like eternity it spun around my ribs
I floated with the freshness of your breath
Yet I am still skeptical of this love you want me to lay with
I am not ashamed
Just afraid of the bruises
©2009 C. Delaleu

I've been very very busy lately with my painting, I was recently approached by East West Bookstore to have a booksigning on 4/11/09 and to participate at an art festival on May 2nd. You can imagine, my mind flying with ideas and trying to focus while completing other projects. Two winners were selected for the Lyrically Bullets Winter Poetry Contest:

Michelle aka GetZapped and Gary aka Epsilonicus, both will receive paintings and bookmarks. Their poems were fantastic and a pleasure to digest.

Poem by Get Zapped
Lyrics are the seeds
Left to find their
Own way into the earth.

Digging,
They split into pieces
Forming words
Of colorful visions

Soft as water
Pure as breath
Fleeting as death.

Not to be forgotten,
They sing through us
Joining the march
Into poetic song.

Chattering leaves
Chiming winds
Moaning passions.

Lyrics,
Are the soul
Of a heartbeat
© 2008 Michelle A. Ringgold

Poem by Epsilonicus:

Most Terrible Voice

The most terrible voice there is, silence.
Silence is an act of violence
Vilified by the fact that it keeps me from writing.
With silence ever present, probing, and penetrating my mind,
Motion of clear thoughts cease.
Creativity is chased from my head,
Haunted by the most terrible voice there is...
Silence.

2009-01-16T13:59:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my world of art, poetry and culture...I've been missing in action with many projects going on, plus I just got back from sunny California. I had a great time with my little girl who is now 10, she's growing way too fast and i'm trying to catch up.

She's also a writer and loves to draw...the weather was in the 80's with some Santa Ana winds, regardless, we had a wonderful time with shopping, movies and nature.

I will get back to you all soon regarding the winners of the poetry contest. Hope all is well and keep the creative juices flowing. Have a good weekend.

POETICALLY SPEAKING...
He was the clock who held me somewhere between 9 and 12
Between lust, love and the bottomless pit of hope
Between public parks we held on to monkey bars
Daiquiri became pricey on stoned stairs where we practiced congress
He had a bird eye’s view of climax
Slugging down soccer nets with honey
Sweet and sticky
Erotic fury spelled my femininity
My WO-manity magnified by this virgin pathology
When sound of mind and body exercised a routine on his trampoline
Third degree burn
I yearned to be heard
To earn his respect
Unruliness he provided poetically
Improvising a Wu-Tang sensuality of words
He tickled me orally
Religiously without mercy
I swallowed his air between brownstones and palm trees
Saw his rainfall like a refresher course
Saluting me with verses like gold-trimmed sweat
Loveslap passages with Caribbean sea pillows and sheets
Devoting my lungs with volume of heat
A running train with his mud in my mouth
Begging for another revolution of his Haitian dot net
His residue grants me serenity
I once swallowed his flame
And…I failed
At the opportunity
To express the many possibilities
My drug of choice now dances around my ankle
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

2008-12-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

Hello Bloggers,

Hope you all are enjoying the rest of the week, including the new year right around the corner. Just to let you know, i've extended the deadline for the poetry contest in order to give more poets/writers a chance to submit their pieces. Don't be shy...express yourself and have fun.

Delaleu’s Poetry CONTEST:
Open to all poets and writers, tell me how lyrics affects you as a writer, send me your own piece on “Lyrical Bullets” All poems must be 30 lines or less, the winners will be announced on 12/31/08 and will receive a free piece of art with their poems displayed on my blog and website: www.delaleuwritings.com
Send all poems to Cathy@delaleuwritings.com, make sure to type on the subject “Lyrical Bullets”.

Only 2 winners for this contest, 1st winner receive a large piece of art, 2nd winner will receive a 5x7 piece of art.
Deadline for entries: 1/8/2009

LYRICAL BULLETS

Sorry but I can’t
Don’t make me choose…
Cause I won’t
Thanks to those lyrics I’m able to take away the bad feelings
Why carry such negativity like a cadaverous face ravaged and brittle by osteoporosis?
Without lyrics you’ll leave my hips broken
My brain will shrivel
Even my walk will look funny
I’ll be the only one pigeon-toed with an overflowing beltline
No mental or intellectual lines
artless I will be
A murderous death, my suicide
With my lyrics I’m the painter
the philosopher, a rhythmic thinker
You can’t carry my cross
Its all mine, it’s in me
The day those lyrics touched me
I was rattled and survived
I will say it again I won’t choose
Without it I will die
©2007 C. Delaleu

Enjoy!

2008-12-24T08:54:00.000-08:00

A world without art? Hmmmmmm, it would be impossible to wake up one day without colors,without movement...a day without pens, pencils or brushes.

Can't imagine art not being mentioned by people, it would be a total discrimination. I love the playfulness of it, take a pen or pencil and run with it like poetry...the intimacy of it add a je ne sais crois.

So, I bought myself another sketch book (#4 now) and poured so much of my thoughts into it. I want to use it more like an art album for my daughter, she will appreciate it when she gets older i'm sure. She is catching up with me now, writing her little heart out and drawing...keeping journals like I used to when I was her age. I started at 8 and now I have over 100 journals from 1986 until now.

Three months ago if you would have asked me to take pictures, I would have looked at you funny and run, lol

The challenge I have with lupus is that one day I feel great, the next i'm sluggish and can barely move out of the bed, but the change of weather helps a lot. The sun comes out and i'm happy, I'm into flower and trees, I feel they speak to us daily, if only we take the time to listen to them. My mother's scented roses in her front yard are so natural, it drizzled two days ago and they slowly opened up to say hello to us.

I took a peak and thanked all of them for their introduction.

Another sunny day...

2008-12-17T11:11:00.000-08:00

Hello Blog Family,

Well, as you know, my art show and sale was last Saturday. It turned out ok, about
19 people showed up, it was a first-time success and great networking with people in the AZ area. It's so diverse here, reminds me a little of NY but less stressful, of course. Although, I didn't have much sales I had a great time with my guests who got to eat and dance to Haitian and Salsa music, lol. They polished the floor all night until 11pm.
I had a friend of the family make the yummy lemon cake, he said it took him 4 days to prepare and he refused to give me the recipe, it was sooooooooooo delish and huge, lol. I put the rest in the freezer. As for food, I had appetizers from fried griyo which is fried pork, turkey meatballs, fried plantains, salad, chips and nachos.

I had 2 art tables, everything looked really nice. Didn't get a chance to take any extra pictures, was too busy entertaining. I plan to have another show in the spring...

LYRICAL BULLETS

Sorry but I can’t
Don’t make me choose…
Cause I won’t
Thanks to those lyrics I’m able to take away the bad feelings
Why carry such negativity like a cadaverous face ravaged and brittle by osteoporosis?
Without lyrics you’ll leave my hips broken
My brain will shrivel
Even my walk will look funny
I’ll be the only one pigeon-toed with an overflowing beltline
No mental or intellectual lines
artless I will be
A murderous death, my suicide
With my lyrics I’m the painter
the philosopher, a rhythmic thinker
You can’t carry my cross
Its all mine, it’s in me
The day those lyrics touched me
I was rattled and survived
I will say it again I won’t choose
Without it I will die
©2008 C. Delaleu

Delaleu’s Poetry CONTEST:
Open to all poets and writers, tell me how lyrics affects you as a writer, send me your own piece on “Lyrical Bullets” All poems must be 30 lines or less, the winners will be announced on 12/31/08 and will receive a free piece of art with their poems displayed on my blog and website: www.delaleuwritings.com
Send all poems to Cathy@delaleuwritings.com, make sure to type on the subject “Lyrical Bullets”.

Only 2 winners for this contest, 1st winner receive a large piece of art, 2nd winner will receive a 5x7 piece of art.
Deadline for entries: 12/28/08

Have fun!!

2008-11-30T13:46:00.000-08:00

POETRY CONTEST: stay tuned...this week I will posting the rules for this contest and the winner will receive a free art from yours truly.

**UNSENTIMENTAL VALUE

A psychic once told her
That she’s a 7th Daydreamer
With promiscuous tendencies
Taught by the only man who molested her
At eight years old
She was grass-fed with lack of trust
Only learned to keep quiet eyes and legs to herself
In order to fool thuggish men who throw lies
Based on hormonal changes
They heard all the way from Port-au-Prince
To Harlem that she has the best black beans in town
And her fish will make them powerful
They assume she’ll make them lighthearted
With her innocent smile
Unaware that her grind is a cruel whip
Of salt and vinegar
I don’t love easy, she yells at them
Her kisses confuse their heart
With a tale of stale wine
She marches without solace
And chews on trauma until numbness
Reach over with tear dust
Hushing her to sleep
Their cock prayers wraps around her
as nutritional facts of life
Her bodega is sterling gold used as a doorknob
To cover her surface with their rainstorm
She carries her verbiage as mainstream
Unsentimentally she values some raunchy opinions
©2008 by Cathy Delaleu

Hello Blog World

I know I've been missing in action, but it's been crazy busy for me. I'm getting ready for my art show on 12/13, two weeks away. I'm excited since this will be my first art show in Arizona. So, if any of you live in the area, please let me know know and I will gladly send you an invitation or if you know any friends who might be interested in purchasing. The paintings on top are my latest ones, perfect holiday gifts, right? hint, hint, lol.

Well, regardless, enjoy the poetry and have a great weekend. Ta ta for now.

2008-11-06T15:39:00.000-08:00

These are my latest work...I was finally inspired to create them, it didn't take long, perhaps four hours.

Forget about canned food, this is the season for some good organic, hearty soup. I was able to make my own fresh spices to give it a kick, this below was the result,it took me less than 30 minutes to prepare. When you keep it simple, that's when it taste the best...

The ingredients were:

carrots
onions
cilantro
turkey pieces
chicken stock (low sodium)
basil
spinach
parsley
lemon juice
chilli powder

The sunset is your skin...
I drink in the warmness using archived lips
My journal you open with bruised eyes
Trace my dreams and hope with pastels
You are the sweetest colors I want to lick forever
On a plate I will savor you with my fingers
© Cathy Delaleu 11/2008

2008-10-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

HOPELESS ROMANTIC
Love is the tip of his tongue
She knows he holds no truth to his words
Eyes disconnected from his heart
Swears he has seen the light
Thanks to her see-through dress
He sniffs her locs like vodka
Enchanted by her biography
Her footsteps causes thunder
Thunder turns to lighting
Lightning turns to lust
She gets on both knees
Eats his dark earth
Swallows his cum
Closes her eyes
Prays he is the one who will hold them together
She can finally paste her dreams in magazines
Sing this new tune dedicated to men
For this is their world
She waits with patience
When the pressure diminish between her thighs
She prays for more tenderness
Shivers his name like raindrops on martini glasses
He sips her slowly
Takes his time to leave no promises behind
Swims inside her without fingerprints
Pretends not to notice her hopeless lullaby
©2008 by Cathy Delaleu
art by April Mansilla "Please don't leave me"

Today, my brushes are clean, without a hint of color and i'm not sure about tomorrow. I haven't been inspired to paint lately, a lot has been going on with me medically and i'm struggling to stay positive with all the ups and downs i'm experiencing. Writing helps a lot, i'm juggling both art and words, they mesh well especially when you have a lot on your mind.

2008-10-17T10:43:00.000-07:00

Happy Friday to all...there are numerous reasons I am grateful today to be here and say it's a blessed day. For example:

1. I woke up with the sun on my eyes

2. The weather is as sweet as strawberry jam and I can't complain

3. I've rediscovered my love for painting and writing

4. Going for a short walk this morning made the heart content

5. Taking pictures of nature, now that's fascinating

My latest paintings here posted are small but precious,it's always fun to use acrylic. I'm now working on some other ones. Now, must tell you about the sssssweeet weather here in AZ. I feel so spoiled and I'm thinking why didn't I make the move sooner.
The plant below is aloe vera, can you believe it? My mom has it all over her backyard and i've used it on my face and it's great, she also has others like a lemon trees with juicy lemons you can use for cooking and mint leaves. I've had the pleasure of boiling the mint leaves and drinking the tea, it relaxes the whole body. There's nothing like organically grown plants instead of store-bought tea bags, you can tell the difference. Life here is a little more layback, not at all the rush and stress i've experienced in NY. I believe 8 years was more than enough. The huge change in my life has occurred and although it was scary I made it with much faith, love and support from family and friends. I am still at the healing process, taking baby steps and not rushing over anything, that's how life should be for most of us in order to say "I've done it all, thank you".

INEVITABLE
You want me to pray with my ten toes
wrapped around my hands
I can't make any promises
Observe this body as a temple
Serenity is all I crave
all that's left in this flesh
I've added you as substance
A promotional upgrade
I hope you will keep me grounded
No failure or negativity at the table
Be gentle with me
Be gentle with my soul
©2008 Cathy Delaleu

2008-10-09T18:50:00.000-07:00

"I have come to comprehend the aura of longevity
See how it flows
this true meaning of life
the purpose of our presence
We are meant to expose our emotions openly
in a jar of organs
Fill it up with tea leaves, herbs and spices
Sit still
Relax mind, heart and soul
Accept with certitude this brief control of life
This concept we view as convenience
is unpredictable
without warning we may kiss darkness
with our feet
Enjoy the now
Enjoy what is offered to us
as blessing"

2008byCathy Delaleu
art by Faiza/art profile

2008-10-04T13:02:00.000-07:00

Thought of the day

"She looks beyond the horizon
Sees a future predicted for her
Accepts her fate with fear
A blessing in disguise
It makes her wonder
She has conquered
Yes...she has"

Hello Blog World

Yep, it's no other than Delaleu. In case many were not aware, my last blog was in May 2008. I had a stroke in May and had to move to Ohio to live with my sister and now moved to AZ to live with my Mom. I'm doing much better and want to thank all of you who kept me in your prayers. I've been living here 2 months now but haven't done much but going to all these doctor appointments and taking loads of medications for my lupus. It has been a great challenge at the same time maybe just maybe I should see it as a blessing cause NY was too stressful for my illness. I am taking it one day at a time and trying to get inspired again to write and to paint which I haven't done since May. Please keep me in your prayers and do come back for more poetry.

2008-05-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

The Power of Forgiveness

With all my heart I want to hate you
I’m angry
sad
Emotions way overdue

You left us in a plane to Haiti
Told us it was a vacation

Deep down inside I knew you lied
We were kids we couldn’t fight

Had no choice without a voice

Six years of waiting
You never showed
I vowed to hate you

We lived with strangers who ate our cereal
Claimed they were family

Abused by hungry fingers
In the dark I prayed for Jesus
Had sweet dreams of my salvation
Stuck in a world of alienation

My spirit slowly died inside
I ask myself, Mom why you lied?

After six years we came to you
Saw in your eyes what you’ve been through
Our father left
You had three jobs
We were your angels
Alone in the dark
You felt we needed a fresh start
That’s why we were so far apart

Now I do appreciate your efforts
Even though I feel extreme anger
You kiss my tears
Your arms protect me
Tell me you’re sorry
I grimly smile
I forgive
End of story
©2005 by Cathy Delaleu
art by Delaleu

I was tagged by the lovely Miss Blu Jewel, i'm not a fan of tagging but this one was interesting enough to get my attention.

Link the person who tagged you.
Mention the rules in your blog.
Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged. Here goes:

1. You're on the bus or train, do we really need to hear the convo. you're having on your cell? I find it ridiculous. Also, you know damn well that once the train goes under the tunnel, you don't get any reception, so why pretend you can still hear the person on the other line? We know you can't. Duh.

2. I don't like standing in long lines at the store, I rather put my merchandise away then to stand there

3. If someone else cooked the meat I won't eat it, unless it's from my mom or sister. I'm very anal about eating meat at someone's home, meat should be clean first with vinegar or lemons before it's cooked. Well, that's how I was taught by mother dearest.

4. I'm in the habit of closing doors and turning off lights, why leave the light on if you're not using it? Save energy :)

5. I'm always on right on time or too early

6. Hate TV commercials with a passion, I rather click the mute button then to hear the same old ads

2008-04-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

I don’t know when I’ll be myself again
To step to the limelight of life without fear
My path chosen a decade ago
With no intention of remission
Sold my twinkle little star to my sister
She holds it high like a trophy
In her eyes there is no remorse
All these meds I must swallow
It’s not a shame to cry over pain
The man next to me is a moron
Good enough to pay my insurance
He was once known as soul mate
Now he’s a shadow of doubts
I search for life with steroids and needles
Fingertips bleed uncertainty
There is silence in my dreams
Tears when the world is cruelly awake
Soundbites tangled with apologies
I search for answers at the sight of sunset
Surrender as my little star turns to dust
Lost is the comfort I yearn
Lost is this comfort
© 2008 by Cathy Delaleu
Art by Etsy.com

2008-04-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

UNDISPUTED

I’m afraid of the dark
That’s when Daddy left
His dusty shoes in the foyer along with his favorite shirt
The wrinkled one soaked with mother’s tears
I managed to wash it with poetry
Mother says I need to stop dreaming
Daddy will never come back
He has no time now that he has 2 other boys to care for
I plan my escape with a backpack of goodies
Daddy’s shoes will take me to him
Take me to the place he chose as solace
Mother sleeps with books besides her
Counts pages of “I love you’s” like lottery tickets
No one will ever know how she stole those books
from my father’s side of the mattress
He was North of Haiti
She was South of Brooklyn
I found him in sunny Florida catching a tan with another woman
Mother swears the man I saw wasn’t my father
He is much lighter
More handsome in person
She identifies him as wasted fury of what could have been
Sniff his scent under her black dress
Obviously the wrinkled shirt cinched around her breasts
Is a reminder of his moonlight
The one he piled in Jacmel
Years before the slow-moving hurricane
I want this old man to come back
Retrace his steps to what he once knew as
home
©2008 by Cathy Delaleu
art by Karen Cougan

2008-03-03T09:03:00.000-08:00

THE ATTITUDE OF INDIFFERENCE

Born in a land of swagger
Where earth and moon tongue kissed their lies
Footprints glowed on hearts that sang out loud their romance
She came beneath them
Frazzled and beautiful
A little girl with no hair
Hair so thin you can see a map of her heart
Anything you give
She takes
Anything you say
She swallows
You write her story to feel better
At 9 years old she thinks you’re a visitor
Who brings toys twice a year
More like Santa Claus in jeans
The tooth fairy that lost her wings
She sings to you on the phone
Your insides grow sore
Her voice is delicious like sunshine and strawberries
Tomorrow is when you will snatch her from the serpent
Take her to a better place
She will see your good intention as blessing
You blink your eyes
She’s now nineteen
You sit her down
Tell her the truth
That she belongs to you
She was always yours
Five hours of labor during a talk show of viewers
Little girl don’t believe you
She thinks you’re losing it
You act too desperate
Too nice
Not motherly
She chose to dance with the serpent
Until she marries one like him
Tall, dark and devious
She wants a man like Daddy
Except she wants him white
With long curly hair so he can approve
She gets extensions
Dresses into a Cinderella costume
Polishes her lips with glitter
Little girl twirls her way towards the sun
Her skin burns like fire
Her voice echoes Travelocity
She travels the world in search of her serpent
Determined to be happy
She realizes she’s too dark
Bleaches her face every morning
Now look…
Look how she glows like the moon
When she walks into a room
Everyone catches their breath
Little girl finds her blond hair, blue eyed serpent
He is not Daddy
He is Peter Pan who grabs her by the neck
Flies her to a world of abuse
Her tears stains her Cinderella dress
Turns it gray
She stops eating
Darkness gives her shivers
Her glow disappears
She sings for pennies on the subway
Her glow disappears
Daddy where are you?
She tries to undress the rain with a song
Little girl is unable to free herself
Isolation becomes her best friend
Intervention offered with my fingertips
She hugs without question
My peace offering
©2008 by C. Delaleu
painting by Etsy

2008-02-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

I wrote this poem below out of frustration, cause it's not easy dealing with Lupus. Many out there deal with various types of illness and rarely do you find doctors that care. I've seen too many doctors for Lupus and believe me, I have not met one that shows genuine concern or compassion. They are always in a rush to examine you, no time to listen. The one person that did show me some care is not even a certified doctor, she's a holistic practitioner who believes the body can be healed with natural remedies. The natural meds do take a while but they work, you just have to be patient, lots of patience is required.

The helpless runs for relief
ignores the smiles of doctors
who claims the skittles they offer
will cure her pain
watch how she runs
she stomps over bodies buried in steroids
don’t stop the drugs
the men in white jackets yell
let’s make sure we dump your flesh
with toxins
you’ll look better in a hospital bed
Good health not an option
we only support those who are mentally dead
Long-term care won’t save you money
You bring us joy when you beg for relief
We don’t specialize in compassion
Rather we profit more when you bleed
(c)2008 by C. Delaleu

2008-01-16T18:51:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged by Snarkly Black Chicks
It's a very interesting tag and couldn't help but respond.
Here are 7 delectable things you don't know about me

1. I'm addicted to chocolate chip scones at Whole Foods
2. Like to eat fresh snow before it touches the ground...i'm not the only one who does it, i'm sure, lol
3. I'm anal about people walking barefoot in my apartment
4. by nature, a homebody, doesn't take much to make me happy...being home with a home cooked meal, poetry and some movies are satisfying enough
5. I'll wake up at 5am on a Saturday or Sunday to paint then go back to bed at 10am
6. Love to write poetry at the strangest hours, for example at 2am when ideas and words flow into my dreams then i'll go back to bed
7. I love, love, love the 18th century era from songs to movies, something about that period leaves me breathless, the era of Catherine the great, get it? name is Cathy so i'm thinking I am a reproduction of her in spirit :) since I'm fascinated by the language, how they lived, how they loved...favorite movie of all time is Pride and Prejudice, another favorite is The Piano.

2008-01-05T17:38:00.000-08:00

I cooked over the weekend using the ingredients pictured on top, it was yummy. I made salmon, plantain, sweet potatoe, carrots, spinach and string beans. It was delish!!
There's nothing like a good home cooked meal, remote control and a good movie :)

I watched two movies: I Am Legend and Enchanted, both were good. Will Smith was shirtless and left me breathless :)

LOVE DREAM

“Where are you going?” he questioned with a smirk

“I’m hot, want some ice cream,” was my response with a smile.

“I know you’re hot,” he pulled me close. “I can cool you off.”

“Well, you can start with some vanilla Swiss almond ice cream”

“And then some,” he chuckled, lifting me swiftly off the floor.

Marvin Gaye’s “I want you” was our interlude, caressing my ears.

His lips warm and demanding flew me back to Saint Martin where we met.

He carried me to the dining table. Yes, the dining table was our spot and then we would travel to the living room, and finally the last round would be the bedroom and to finish off we showered together.

“Where would you like to go next?” he asked.

“We can scroll back to the dining room,” was my proposal.

©2008 C. Delaleu

2008-01-01T20:29:00.000-08:00

Hope you all have a healthy, blessed New Year. My California trip was great, the weather wasn't hot or cold, just perfect 60/70 degrees like early spring days in NY. It came to an end when I returned back to NY where the cold air slapped me to reality. These pics were taken at Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade in Cali, I was strolling with my Jamba Juice in hand and noticed all these cool art around me. The painting on top (Lady of soul in heels) is my first art created for 2008.

Well, it's time to set some goals which I made a wish list since November. I don't literally write a list on paper, normally it's in my head and I keep it at 5. Two years ago I had 10 on the list and was greatly disappointed at myself and since then I decided to keep it simple.

So, what are your goals for 2008? What do you plan to accomplish?

2007-12-16T15:02:00.000-08:00

1. Parabole of Joy (sold)

2. Twinkle Little Star

3. Avalanche

Bamboozled

I envy her loss
The one she feeds with her eyes
Unhappy with her accomplishments
She grabs hard-earned tears
Stash them in piggy banks
Re-edit dreams with a sweet tongue
Sabotage spoken word as rape
She might as well carry a knife under her kinte dress
Her sweet smile only last a minute
She begs to read your words when everyone’s asleep
Swears that’s the only way you’ll make money
In fact
You’ll be more popular by standing right behind her
She hustle manuscripts like virgin records
Says she’s here for her people
“They need me to recognize their struggle”
she’s creative with excuses
reads the Bible to alleviate guilt
can’t you see?
the mask she wears is your own
Your very own dream is her award
Beware
Beware
She chants your verses in her sleep
©2007 C. Delaleu

USELESS
The heart is useless
Given too many choices
Emotions thrown at the curb
Lust given away for free on the #4 train
Afraid of consequences
Useless
this heart hums in Creole
My mother’s tongue wrapped around the trachea
Like chilled coconut juice
Useless
this thick organ of predictability
Stuffed with false intentions
Lanes of noiseless kisses
Fantasies made for an 8 year old
Who chats under the sheets with dolls
Devious is this heart
With a motive to kill vessels
I keep it secluded beneath train tracks and buses
Burning ashes like an Indian in mourning
Prayers sent to ancestors who did the same
Women who opened their heart too quickly
Estimates their lungs will swell
With each proposal
©2007 C. Delaleu

Hope all of you enjoy your holidays and the New Year, i'll be in sunny California...need to get away from this New York cold. When I get back I will spoil you with more poetry and pics. Stay warm :)

2007-12-10T06:30:00.001-08:00

AN OPPORTUNITY NOT TO BE MISSED

POET & ARTIST

CATHY DELALEU

Showcasing her latest artwork on sale for the Holidays
Saturday, 12/15/07
5:30pm-10pm
Brooklyn, New York
There will be music and appetizers

Affordable paintings for under $100

If you’d like to attend please email her for directions
cathy@delaleuwritings.com
If you cannot attend, artwork will be on display online
Sunday, 12/16/07

2007-11-14T15:55:00.000-08:00

JOLIE FLOWER GIRL

What is there to tell?
The soundtrack to her life is invaluable
An amplifier full of misadventures
Still
She comes home alone
Once 15 years ago she carried daisies down the aisle
Watched how her sister’s left finger grew with a platinum ring
There was no envy
Only hope that one day love will carry her over unexpected places
She waits for him by the phone
Thirsty for this desire always scribbling in her heart
Interprets this character as exclusive
She caught her sister’s bouquet
Ran with it
Critics point at her failures
Why is the bachelor to blame?
She’s the one with the issues
At 37 she should have it all
Her lyrical details are sketchy
She rejects love at first sight
Tells her friends it doesn’t exist
Or if it does
It has passed her by
Slapped her with wrinkles
© 11/07 by Cathy Delaleu

TO MY FATHER
My sister and I didn’t set out to be emotional wrecks
Father where were you?
Central Park was lifeless
The coldest winter was when you left in July
Little feet grew quickly
Your eldest fascinates strangers with words and art
Her dreams too marvelous and complex
Father where were you?
Love is an organism full of life
Yet your daughter is unable to speak or even process your memoir
She swallows air without guidance
Adjourns to a café across the street
Write her little head off until it makes perfect sense
Until her fingers grow numb with intermission
The journals are a centerpiece for mommy to admire
See her daughter has written a book
Mommy flaunts it to friends
If she only knew the contents
How each page bleeds work in progress
Punctures the cervix each time your name is mentioned
Do you know why the divorce rate has risen?
You weren’t my first love
Not the first to say I’m beautiful
Not the one to walk me down the aisle
Or take me to my first dance
Seven years later divorce has given me a one-sentence summary
A map is used to free me from isolation
Fortunately
My daughter has her daddy to look up to
A success story with a perfect ending
© 11/07 by C. Delaleu

It was difficult growing up without a father. Being in my 30’s, he has reappeared in my life and tries to play catch-up which to me is hilarious. I’m too old now to do most stuff daughters get to do with their dad but I do have a much better understanding as to why I am the way I am when it comes to relationships. I have passed the “bitter” phase with him and have accommodated our relationship as “friends”. That’s all I can offer him.

Please take a moment to read Aminah Love's reply (To My Lyrical Sista/dated 11/2/07)based on my "10/23/07 To a Girlfriend" poem.

artwork "Jolie Flowergirl" by Cathy Delaleu

2007-11-05T18:31:00.000-08:00

SHOW and TELL

This is one of those nights where I wish someone was here to cook me dinner or better yet have one of my sister's delicious meals. The pic below says it all, no need for details but I wanted to share. Back in September while I stayed at my sister's, she was cooking almost every day. She's one of those talented ones who love to cook, whips up a meal with scraps and leftovers. She's that good. Me, on the other hand I follow some rules but have my own Delaleu flavor. In food, I love color and fire, meaning give me a BANG! of chilli powder and another BANG! of cayenne pepper. My sister cooked me this dish (shown above), ummmmmmmmm, baked catfish, string beans, potatoes, spinach and carrots. Before chowing down and giving her my thank-you hug, I snapped a picture of it and took it out on the patio where I sat down with nature and gave thanks.

Believe me when I was done with the plate, I was ready to lounge sideways on my chair and doze off...lol. I think I did, but then thirty minutes later, I was searching for something sweet :)
sweets, sweets, where are thou?

This here is my latest creation, I call it "Organic Soul". It's acrylic, a little pastel and tissue paper on the bottom to give it this thick, blue ocean effect.

2007-10-27T18:58:00.000-07:00

On September’s new sun you came to me with the strangest sound
Toes and fingers stomping
In your eyes I saw God
Understood the spiritual side of birth
You glowed like the moon while you slept in my arms
The hardest part about loving you was letting you go
Across the West coast boarder I hear the beat of your heart
Try to reach for you in my sleep
Pray one day you will comprehend why I left you behind wrapped with my doubts and fear
I cannot justify
Cannot restore
Cannot rehabilitate
Cannot resuscitate the past
Beneath my belly you grew quietly
Unable to cry infant tears
Years hitches you a ride to forgetfulness
Sandstorm clouding your mind
My once a week phone call waters you with smiles
Therapy not enough to vanquish guilt
Deep-rooted pain strike joints
Jab the anguish stars I created for us in acrylic paper
My ink runs through your blood
With Haitian revolution translating confession
I am committed to make you mine someday
Determined to make you see me as your mother
I will hand you my own script of multilayered disappointments coupled with hope
Never meant to be your weakest link of confusion and aggravation
It’s 8pm today
Your father wants me stoned with his words
Sign on the dotted line to allow another woman to take over my joy
Can she have the ability to love you like I do?
I am not dead yet your father is mourning my name to neighbors
“Die bitch,” he whispers behind closed doors
I purge my anger in brush fires
The Santa Ana wind sings flame of prayers to God
Reality is to hate
But doing so is useless
The smoke thickens
And your smile and laughter disappears
Dear daughter
I’m sorry
Mommy will not sign on the dotted line
©10/07 by C. Delaleu
art by KJ & the dreamy giraffe

I was compelled to write this piece based on a true story of a woman who lost custody of her daughter because she moved out of state and was given visitation rights by the courts. She has made the effort to keep in contact with her daughter weekly by phone, sending her letters and toys and traveling 2-3 times a year to visit her. Her ex-husband remarried and now wants her to sign adoption papers in order for his new wife to become the legal custodian.

2007-10-23T16:44:00.000-07:00

TO A GIRLFRIEND

Sister Love you know who I am
Where I’ve been
Where I’m going
You know why I warm up my insides
With this quilted heart
Why heartache is a heeled boot
Worn as a side zipper for easy entry
Shaped like rubber
Tapered with feelings
I’ve written to you before
I don’t believe in Hell
For once love was fundamental
The notion of Heaven on earth
Without the need of slip-ons or double-wrapped belt
Reborn over with this gift from God
I was allowed to sleep forever
A purpose to daydream with eyes closed

Sister Love I haven’t been myself
Giving this body freely to the male ego
My spirit ruptured repeatedly
I have not been saluted as his queen
My soul is a gift
You told me I was conceived twice without stipulation
God wanted to make sure his feminine art was opened
to endless possibilities
instead his poetry collection is found nestled
in a man’s sack
nipped and tucked

Sister Love only you can understand this strange convulsion
This anxiety that causes me to die repeatedly when legs are spread open to him
I am never too hungry
Yet he is the addiction at my corner store
I don’t need him to make me complete
I look in vain for his approval
For his body is a temporary cubicle
Not-for-profit
Simply liberating
Does it make sense to you?

You have been my mentor
And I have disappointed you
Disappointed myself
I feel lost
Again
And again
I am never too hungry
A full plate is meaningless when all I use is a saucer
I feed him without intellectual flirtation
more than he gives of himself

I’ve written to you before
Avoiding the harsh truth
That he is not the one for me

This non-nurturing comfort is meaningless
I am losing my sense of well-being, my balance
I seek some part of myself
My identity in him
While we dance this one mile song
I have flown with calloused feet
Sinking deep into his dark mud
The best moments are when I’m alone
Self-contained
Self-preserved
A woman I am again
Persistent to find this love
No matter how many times I fall face forward on concrete...
I scramble quickly to my feet
To emphasize
That he is not the one for me

You’ve said it before
The best is saved for last

The night is still young

© 2007 by Cathy Delaleu
Painting by Mystikalart

2007-10-17T08:47:00.000-07:00

THE DANCER IN ME
She’s dancing naked with wolves
Dancing back and forth
Side to side
Arms flailing
It’s hilarious
She is followed like an event calendar
Like a weekly newsletter
A black memoir
The New Yorker with the sexy accent
They brag she got soul
A genius with too many ideas
Has no time to write girly longings on paper
She’s a chick lit with no drama
Almost 40 years old with 50,000 words stored in her blog
Programmed to edit secrets discreetly
A good girl with a freaky side
She’s hurricane
Tequila in your sunrise
Chile in your tamale
Garlic in your chicken
Hot pepper in your lambi (conch)
Pimento in your rice and beans
Cream of your coconut
She’ll ride your lonnnnnng ranger like an energizer bunny
Her movie idea has no screen name
Sees herself as the million-dollar baby without cash
A broke ass writer rich in grammar
Ashanti conquering side streets of Brooklyn with notepad and markers
Nefertiti dancing naked with wolves
Dancing with words
Dances with burning toes and fingers
Swings hips without a routine
No one sees her sweat
No one has time to admire her features
The painted toes
Caramel sweet skin glistens
Her Harlem shake glides, pops, jerks its way to your loins
Then you see her
You inhale her
Catch her locks with your eyes
With your breath
Believe she’s your thigh master
Will deliver you from this dull life you call confrontational
She makes it painless
Sends your body to earth and air
You swim religion and lust with your feet
Parts of your body feel her matrix
She is what you need
Your cliterature
Your hot bath
Your hot book
Your hot sex
Your hormonal support
Your self-cultivation
Your self-indulgence
Your self-contradiction
Your struggle
What feels good after you shower
Steams your spirit in cold winters
Responds to your kind words
Lights you up
Knocks you down
Link between the gin to your juice
Your displaced eruption
Your undersea explosion
Your impulsive force of nature
Force of gravity
Your other half
Your better half
Your tender soul
queen
goddess
femininity
She is Venus
She is woman
©2007 by Cathy Delaleu
pic by Hertiages Art

2007-10-15T05:27:00.000-07:00

HOPELESS

Your first day in NY
I made you nervous
I was nervous
Feeling your presence in my space
Like a sensual light coming through open windows
A man who molds life with his hands
You make it beautiful without effort
Our longing connected through a silver screen
Where lonely hearts seeks adventure
We’re unsure yet willing to swing
Hopelessly with our valves
And why wouldn’t it work?
We are two beings in love with the idea
Of alterations
©2007 by C. Delaleu
"Life and Love" painting by C. Delaleu

2007-10-11T08:27:00.000-07:00

BATTLE OF THE FLESH

Beauty queen on her 36th year on earth
Has tasted forbidden fruit too many times
Lost count of what 100% reality feels like
Please
Please
Please
God save the queen
She’s the one with the broken smile
Tilted sideways
Carries her heart on canvas
Protects this organ with colors and journals
Knock on her door
See if she’ll open and greet you with a smile
She ignores the doorbell
You didn’t call
You’re not invited in
I don’t see your name on the list
She writes them alphabetically
From C’s to V
The list is reserved for men who fingers promises of
Stability
They yawn their way through her dreams
She holds tight to the wrong path
This path of longing with brief laughter’s
Impressive conversations lead to stretch of limbs
A born again Virgin
She has them singing how tight she is
You’re a true gem
But why don’t they stay?
Why don’t they leave their affection on her pillows?
She’ll sleep better at night only if they sympathize
Their devices leave her too weak to weep
Too weak to whisper to herself that she’s a beautiful black woman
There are no Emergency Instructions for heartache
After the heart is fondled
She hides her flesh under soiled covered semen
It’s called heartache for a reason
It’s called rain for a reason
It’s called anger for a season
It’s called rage after the treason
And for this reason
the alarm will sound
if you pull her down
to your false sermon of love
©2007 by C. Delaleu
artwork "Emotive Rain" by C. Delaleu

2007-10-09T05:04:00.000-07:00

For the women in Blog world who lack appreciation from their men, i'm sure you'll relate to these two poems below. Have you ever felt that all he does is throw you crumbs here and there and you're left hungry for more of his attention?

Many swallow whatever crumb is thrown their way out of desperation, not realizing their self-worth. In society we put up with a lot of crumbs so why should we settle with excuses and drama at home?

Aminah Love and I came up with the idea of writing a poem on the topic of "Crumbs". If you'd like to write your own piece and share with us, feel free to do so.

Crumbs

He calls
I jump
Let’s meet
It’s been a minute
I hurry
Get dressed
He's waiting
We see
We kiss
Have dinner
Make love
Spent
A moment is shared
Always busy
Never has time
Throws me a crumb
Dares to say he's mine.

To be used
When he’s horny
Is this fulfilling
No
The crumbs that are thrown
Is not what I want
I am but one
Of those
That he uses
When he's on the spot

Do I accept his offer
When it's thrown
Or do I walk away
And leave him the
Hell alone?

Crumbs are for those
You have no emotion for
or are not attached,
I am much more than that.

A full meal is what I crave
Not starvation that fills me
With loathe & decay
Of an individual that cannot
Fulfill my needs
For he has only crumbs
To feed.

Aminah Love
© 2007 Sonia Roman

CRUMBS

Drip
Drip
Drip are his excuses
Short notice on cell phone
With a red tag for disaster
Danger
Procrastination
His lust makes you his Tylenol PM alleviates achy joints
Crosses toes
Firm up muscles
You even suck your thumb after the explicit melt-down
With ice between the legs
There is only one in your universe
He accentuates your sweet tooth
Penetrates your ocean like a whale in search of his chicken of the sea
Hold up
There is silence again
Day 3
No phone call
Emails are scarce
Your stomach growls
Day 5
You’re hungry
He throws you a text message
I think I’m in love
You laugh at the gesture
It’s a joke how he does it flawlessly
An amateur
Your piece of ass who swears he wants to be your one and only
He’ll rock your world when his midnight shift ends
First he needs a shave
A shower
Needs to call his mama
Pay the bills
Nothing is guaranteed without another kiss
Without another Red Bull grind
Without elevation
Your recreation
Day 8
Your battery is low
He hasn’t scored since the last date
What’s up boo?
Phone sex not an ultimatum
Give me a better story
Tell me your dog ate my number
Or you were running late for work
Better yet you couldn’t Tivo our last madness in the car seat
Drip
Drip
Drip
Tick is the unseen clock
Imagine your cock as the main entrance to my twin towers
How quickly it crumbles
Waiting
And waiting
for you
Drip
Drip
Drip
© 2007 by Cathy Delaleu
Painting "Season of Wet Dreams" by C. Delaleu

2007-10-03T12:32:00.000-07:00

The beginning is sweet
Like the first taste of strawberry sherbet
On a hot summer day
You can’t get enough
You want more to savor the palate

The beginning is a battlefield of rain and sun
Unpredictable
He turns it into a merry-go-round with his tongue
You contemplate the possibility
Of opening your heart without bleeding
Wondering if he will be the first Knight
To rescue you out of Brooklyn with his
Mighty sword
©2007 by Cathy Delaleu

Tavern of Creativity

2007-09-24T11:07:00.000-07:00

The first annual Tavern of Creativity on 9/15/07 was a huge success. I must thank all those who stopped by to show support, not to mention the poets and artists who participated. Some poets and artists flew in from other states such as Florida, Ohio and Milwaukee, it was awesome. I got to meet my blogger friend Xavier for the first time, he flew in from Florida and had the opportunity to sell his book hot off the press released this past July. Again congrats Xavier.

My girl Miss Aminah Love aka Sonia Roman read her poems for the very first time to a hungry audience of 50 or so, she said she was nervous but didn't look it at all.

Let me tell you how I was blown away by the series of poems that were read by Xavier, Aminah Love, Rob Bless, Bougie aka Stephen Jordan, Wil Townsend, Nnmandi, Sam, Jose Vilson, Celeste Doaks and Melissa Falcon. They all performed beautifully. We also had food, my sister and I hit pots and pans which had people coming for seconds and thirds. We served fried vegetable eggrolls, pizza rolls, fried Haitian pork (griots), turkey meatballs, macaroni salad, mini salmon pastries. cookies, chips, crackers and cheese. The bar was open for drinks serving Sangria as Happy Hour.

Each poet had a table to sell their art and books to the audience. Once you walked in at the Stain Bar you were richly introduced to their world of colorful art and poetry. Prices on poetry books and art ranged from $5 and up. It was an incredible night,the 2nd one i'm sure will be as memorable.

If you'd like to participate in the 2nd annual Tavern of Creativity which is planned for Spring 2008, feel free to email me. Whether you're a poet and don't know it, an artist who needs a boost, singing or knitting, even comedy, don't be afraid to let your light shine.

2007-09-19T10:54:00.000-07:00

Definition of PASSION...

Strong feeling or emotion
heat: the trait of being intensely emotional
rage: something that is desired intensely; "his rage is lust filled with passion"
mania: an irrational but irresistible motive for a belief or action…feeling of strong sexual desire
love: any object of warm affection or devotion;

Passion is the taste of the sun on my bare flesh, the kiss of the moon repeatedly nurturing us with evening bliss...

Passion is my daughter's smile, the pitter-patter of laughter she rings in my ears

Passion is the feeling of fingers when I write on my journal
when I create new words of love, life, hope and happiness

Most of all passion poetically speaks to me every day
the love of writing
the path of self-expression that becomes edible
the colors I create with brushstrokes
while texture remains silky on my mental state

Passion is what I seek daily. What is your passion?

FOOD ENDING

He is a banquet for the eyes
A quiet spirit
She swallows hard his words
Unspoken
Yet each sentence is understood
She assumes he wants her to slow down
the process
Of knowing…
Knowing him as a black man who’s crossed the peaked dessert of life
Too many times
She inhales his thoughts
Digest impatience that grows like weed in her belly
She wants to love him like never ending fire
He has bewitched her repeatedly in her dreams
Don’t ask why she fears his distance
His presence is powerful enough to praise
She waits for him to set her free
With just
One touch
© 9/07 C. Delaleu

2007-09-16T18:39:00.001-07:00

Ok, I am finally touching the ground with my two feet, i've been literally floating on cloud 10 for the past two weeks. Labor day weekend and week I was in Ohio at my sister's, it was very relaxing not the usual rush here and there like New York then last week I was trying to finish some paintings for my Tavern of Creativity event. Let's just say it was a blast, the vibe, the audience which about 50 showed up was all worth it. I was overwhelmed with excitement and all 10 poets who read did a wonderful job.

Below are pics taken in Detroit. My sister, nieces and I drove there to attend the free Downtown Jazz Festival, it was great. The first pic is me enjoying some greasy catfish, but it was good although I didn't eat all of it, second pic with my sister, we were listening to some catchy, smooth music. We were facing the Canadian waters and of course Delaleu couldn't help to draw and write some poetry. The beauty of the music, people and water had me inspired. Also for your reading pleasure one of the poems I read last night at my event had people groaning and smiling, see it below.

JUST A TASTE

Can I taste your music?
My feelings for you not at all generic
The genuine labor of my eyes speaks truth
At 2am
A poem was created while you slept on a bed of verses
My verses
Allow me to your muse
The dotten line of your heart
The base of your tune
The abyss of your pleasure
To find an easy way to touch your black keynotes
all at once up and down
To discover inner peace with the rhythm of your tongue
I want to hear African drumbeats as I march down your senses
Barefeet
Barenaked
I'll be the Do Re Mi Fa of your tender soul
The end of your song
So again I ask
Can I taste your music?

2007-09-05T12:35:00.000-07:00

On vacation at my sister's. I will keep you all up to date real soon with pictures.
Enjoy the rest of your week.

(Greeting card made by Mag Delaleu Foster)

2007-08-24T05:09:00.000-07:00

HAPPPPPPPPPPPY FRIDAY EVERYONE!!

Another week gone by with summer almost over :( sniff* sniff* didn't even get to surf, just kidding, lol, Delaleu don't surf, heck I need to take swimming lessons in case Brooklyn gets invaded by a tsunami.

So here goes the Gratitude...drumroll please!

1. The day off I had on Monday was well spent by cooking, painting and dancing around the house in my PJ's

2. Having my eyebrows threaded...much better and cheaper than wax plus less painful

3. Yummy spelt scones at Whole Food, have you ever had them? I'm addicted, i'll have to take pictures to show you guys

4. The inspiring boost I got from Aminah Love, Getzapped and Ananda regarding my latest paintings, Aminah described my paintings as Urban with an India Arie style, love it!! Thank you ladies for the vitamin C = Confidence

5. Collabo with my poetic Prince, still gushing reading our creation

6. the flyers are done and ready to be passed out for next month's event, they look sooooooooooo good, thanks to collabo between myself and Aminah, together we are sisters on the rise, love ya!

MY CONFESSION TO BLACK MOSES

Let your spirit filter through my fallopian tubes
Let me scream Jesus on a Sunday
and still shout out Lord have mercy on a Friday
I want to inhale your fetish impulsion
Like discovery in my lungs
Sing your masculinity on the lap of my celibacy

Leave your footprints on my torso
Give me an impromptu shiatsu rub
With the meat of your toes pressed against my spine
Fascinate me
Meticulously
Judiciously
Rain on me without modesty

Black Moses
Look…I’m waiting for you to glance my way
Free me from bondage today
Give me this transfiguration
So I won’t stray
I want to hum your lust on top of Mount Zion
Airgraph your scroll of love like a gospel message in my heart
Then maybe your brothers will notice
Take time to praise the texture of my kinks
And stroll their eyes on this African heritage
Hidden behind the curvature of my lips
Maybe
Maybe
Maybe they will notice my Roots from a mile away
And my Kizzy smile dedicated to you
© 2007 Cathy Delaleu
Painting "In My Own Splendor" by C. Delaleu

2007-08-17T06:09:00.000-07:00

Hello Blog family,

One goal on the list is to keep up with my Gratitude once a week, so i've selected Fridays to do so. Here goes:

* My editor whom I met for lunch, going over my writing progress

* For casual days, no heels, no suits, wonderful!

* Miss Aminah Love who doesn't have the faintest clue at how talented she really is. She easily flirts with poetry, nothing but inspiration is felt through her words. Show her some love, please stop by her blog and let her know you've blessed her page.

* Finding focus and guidance at the librairy: 1 hour, 4 books later and i'm able to tell stories and lies between good and evil, feeding the soul of many with powerful words

*Can't have enough of Blick Art Store or Pearl Paint, i'm at these stores at least once a week, buying supplies
This week's purchase:
--Canvas 18x18, 6x6
--Acrylic and oil paints
--2 brushes

* Bold and colorful flyers created for the Tavern of Creativity event next month (9/15), much thanks to Aminah Love. I can't believe Xavier will be here to attend my event, all the way from Florida to sell his book Lover's Anonymous and to spit some erotic verses

Here's a little piece I wrote this morning, based on a true story:

My average rating?
Short hair
Makeup minimal
No heels
No butt-enhanced jeans

When walking the streets I barely get a pause in the predatorial department.

A male friend once told me "What men want is for your ass to squeeze in a size 6 jeans, pull that thin hairline with braids and pretend, just pretend you can tolerate 3-inch heels. That way we can at least see your face."

I decide to follow the rules by pulling my hairline and wearing makeup. It does get me noticed for 1 day. Hell, even Bill Clinton blows up my cell saying he dumped his hoes in Harlem and wants to taste me casually.

I cross the street, a man yells "Beyonce" out of his car. I ignore the paparazzi, but on a crowded train a woman and her son compliments me.
She says, "You look like Beyonce."
I blurt out, "More like a broke-ass Beyonce."
Everyone laughs except me. I'm frustrated. The fact that my braids are tight, ass hurts, eyes and nose itches with makeup. I am in no mood for compliments.

Guys at work leave me their cell numbers on stickies at my desk, marriage proposals are sent via email.

Are you serious? Hair and makeup makes me feel like an American Express, don't leave home without it.

My girlfriends clock me from head to toe, they accuse me of seeking too much attention. Whatever!

At Poetry night I step to the mic, no one believes I'm a poet until I open my mouth and spill out verses like butta. Suddenly, I am ME again.

Right there, I cut off the braids, wipe off the makeup and unbutton the jeans.

I look into their male ego eyes and tell them this is all of ME. Take it or leave it.

A poet yells out in the crowd, "Yo Cathy! that was hot. Do you, baby. Do you."

art "Inner Calm" by Cathy Delaleu

2007-08-13T18:03:00.000-07:00

Why do we die in our sleep?
I died once wide awake at the sound of your voice
Awake with your heart on my chest
The earth rumbled
The way you justified your presence
My flesh as your common ground stammered
We became mathematic on chalkboard
Under a coconut tree that flag us a melody
We chased waterfall with our equation
Mentally yoked with an understanding
Accidentally we discovered
The summer’s grin without touch
© 2007 by C. Delaleu
"At Peace with Myself" painting by C. Delaleu

I miss blogging on a regular *sigh* :( it was so easy back then to jot down my thoughts on paper while riding the train to work then type away at my desk.

Life gets hectic and crazy sometimes, don't you agree? Delaleu is at a point where she writes down reminders to herself cause the hours fly and she's running after the minutes, hours and days.

Geeeshhh...slow down...I just got out of bed :) I get annoyed at how quickly the day ends, I wish I could stretch it out a bit. Is there a way to slow it down? Perhaps someone out there knows the secret...no i'm not looking at an easy way to stay young although it would be nice (pills/creams or surgery don't work). I would love to know an easier way to appreciate life a little better without rushing.

I hope my poems offers that kind of relief to other bloggers...this longing to relax with a cup of tea and poetry at your fingertips.

2007-08-03T05:17:00.000-07:00

HAPPY FRIDAY everyone...well this week flew by too quickly. I haven't gotten a chance to relax, i've been a busy bee with painting and writing. I'm working on my 2nd poetry book which the goal is to have it published in spring 2008 and i've been keeping busy with my paintings. Tomorrow I head to Harlem to meet with this Haitian artist who owns a gallery. Hopefully, I can convince him to have my work displayed there :) I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer, enjoy while it last.

KINKY ROOTS AND RAPTURE

If my garden is dry it’s because you didn’t finger it
You forgot to take a peek
To fill its soil with honey dust
Forgot to water me with delicate portions
Come back and bring with you the sun
Bring your fruit basket of goodies
The ones you hawk in the marketplace at the crack of dawn
Offer me your sugarcane the one you harvested throughout the year
I will savor the scent of mangos when you rub them on my breasts
And I will glow like the moon with papaya oil on my skin
Cheri, lick the chapters of my wrist where verses are revealed with your name
And the sheet of your tongue can travel down the pages of my palm
Where midnight treasures are kept always ready
To rub you
To knead you
To tap your tired soul into eternal rhythm
And open this silky paint box
Brush on and lick off
Where my body is yours, your caramel Afrodite
Give me reason to slow dance this troubadou
Tete-a-tete in this erotic connection
Where you tango with my tongue
I blossom into a siromiel linguist
English groans when you bite my neck
French moans when you part my lips
In Kreyol when you fill me completely
And make me shudder and cuddle me
Enhancing my bedroom with multicolor layers
Where I’m left in this kama sutra dome
Chosen as your protagonist
Gladly stretching thighs apart to offer you this zaboca already sliced
It is there to eat to your delight
So come here
Cover me with your cornmeal flesh
On your cot we can dream of our motherland
Whispering in my ears your poetic secrets to build me a home
For us to grow old on top of sebaceous mountains
Where our kids will run freely
I’ll look at you again with a thirsty heart
My corosol tears will tell you how much I love you
Rara bands will be out there chanting our folkloric song
© 2007 Cathy Delaleu
Excerpt from my poetry book Wrapping Thoughts Beneath Emotive Rain
Painting by Cathy Delaleu “No Interpretation”

2007-07-26T16:42:00.000-07:00

SUBMISSION GUIDELINE
He comes undone
Fully naked with tinted muscles
Lips drip lustful lyrics
I watch
Hungry to strangle him to death
Until his nightmares become orgasmic lullabies
A buttered smile caresses my thighs
I act surprise
Submitting to this copy of erotic poetry
He gives me his fingers to play with
I dip them in rum punch
His flesh tastes like peach
We light a candle under a blue tent made of coconut shells
Racing time with our ageless kiss
I tell him I want to love you like Harlem love Manhattan
Love like pregnant rain in the spring
With a flooded vagina spilling over the Brooklyn Bridge
Shut down traffic while my screams fly us to Greece
Where a blue moon licks warm waters
Love like slow dance and cheesecake
Love like pen and paper in acrylic colors on canvas
Like breakfast with a half-closed sun
Like moon under silk sheets
Glow like your star
Electrify senses...
Your senses like nightlight
You come fully naked
Undone
And I submit
To your guideline
©2007 Cathy Delaleu
Art by T&C Artwork

Happy Friday everyone. Have a great weekend!!

2007-07-19T05:28:00.000-07:00

SILENT DISCUSSION
I suspect you will weep
Maybe you are meant to battle
With your senses
Even with achy joints
You find a way to speak to me
Through your pores
The scent of earth and basil
Sends me running to you
Mind tags along
Clings to your shirt
Begging for one last dance

The love letter you never received
is tucked between my breasts
Specially packaged with my heart
Throat is tied with your memories
Lingers with sadness
Everything is as you left it
Ruffled sheets
Squeezed toothpaste
Wet towel
Wet eyes
Dry lips
Can I bring back the dawn with your kisses?
You were easy to paint
Fingers on honey brown skin
The texture as if you never left

Painting by Cathy Delaleu
“In A Sentimental Mood”

ANNUAL HARLEM ART AND BOOK FAIR - SATURDAY

I'll be at the Harlem Book Fair this Saturday, 7/21/07, selling my books and paintings, the fair is free to the public. If you're not able to attend, feel free to browse at my other blog "Paint Out Loud", all prices include shipping and handling.

The Harlem Art and Book Fair is being held on 135th Street between 5th and 7th Avenues from 11am-6pm. I'm sharing a booth with my sister who will be selling greeting cards, magnets and dolls.

Stop by to say hello...it would be nice to finally meet some of my blogger friends.

2007-07-04T14:58:00.000-07:00

Enjoy the fireworks!!!

METEOR SHOWER OF VENUS & MARS
Soap
Lather
Scrub
Exfoliate dead skin
Warm water showers me and I inhale the scent of cinnamon gel
A monogamous fragrant speech penetrating my flesh
I hum a tune
Then you, my sexy masculine lover join me
My solar energy
My Nobel Prize
With thick hands you caress thighs and squeeze my behind
Skin against skin, a nuptial invitation which makes me grin
You rub my shoulders and neck
Muscles then relaxes and I moan
Breathing elevates to a social gathering in my heart
Streams of water studiously follow your intention to this journey that you seek
You flatter my back with soap and washcloth
I do the same with rubbing affection on your brown skin
I travel intently down to your central location that causes instant heat
Steam of sweet arousal spirals the air and you let out a groan
Face to face we are baptized in this liquid analogy with supple hungry lips
I tongue
You nibble
I’m swelling
You’re growing
Hard is your Mars against my soft Venus
Your pulsation is my salvation
Deliberately you come inside ruling over my orbit
Causing an astronomical disturbance
Massive water spills over our planets
While Mars passionately communicates to Venus this intense meteor shower
© by Cathy Delaleu (2006)

To get hot and bothered by more erotic poetry and stories, stop by my Girly Longings

2007-06-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

There are several things I can whine about, but what's the use when life is what you make of it. I feel too blessed and grateful to give in to negative energy and I am constantly reminded when I watch the news that there are people out there in worst situations.

This Gratitude is dedicated to living...life itself is a classical collection that I call poetry.

* I am blessed to have my ten fingers to write, draw, paint and create words that relish the mind

* My health which is getting better

* Being able to cook my favorite dishes without guilt, I really don't miss McDonald's French fries or munching on chips, now my splurge is organic chocolate chips :)

* Music is sweetness to the soul...I was listening to Tamia today and it was very relaxing as I painted

* Rain, it is pouring outside but we need it to cool down this humidity

Ok, Ladies and Gents, I am offering the opportunity to win my poetry book, simply check out the two paintings above and write a 20-line poem based on one of the paintings.

The first painting I call it Celebration, next one Emptiness, the 3rd painting is Drama Queen.

Deadline is July 13, 2007 for this contest. Winner will get my book, Wrapping Thoughts Beneath Emotive Rain(autographed) and a bookmark, 2nd runner-up will receive a 5x7 painting. If you wish not to participate but would like to become one of the judges, please let me know. I'm looking for one or two more judges. Email me your poems at cathy@delaleuwritings.com with the title of the selected painting.

Deadline to become a judge is Friday, July 6.

Good luck

2007-06-21T05:34:00.000-07:00

I know i'm a day late with my gratitude which is way overdue, it will be shared next Wednesday.

I've provided dinner pics for your viewing pleasure, last night I was starving and wondering what I should eat. I wanted a little dose of Italy in my food, lol. I went to the market and got myself a pack of gnocchi. Back in 2003, I was introduced to gnocchi when I visited my girlfriend in Venice, Italy. She made the potato dumplings with salted fish over some white sauce, it was heavenly. What I admired most about Italians over there is how they're able to control their food portions, they don't overeat like us Americans. Anywho, after boiling the gnocchi, it was ready in less than 5 minutes:

1. Add olive oil (I love this organic olive oil here)
2. Add Cilantro and onions
3. Add 21 Salute seasoning (you can purchase at any Trader Joe's)
4. Add Prego sauce or my own favorite Amy's Marinara sauce then I added my 21 salute seasoning shown here, it's flavorful with 21 different seasonings...
Voila! Dinner is served with salmon. I cooked the salmon separate and to give the salmon a BANG, I add spoonfuls of Sofrito, garlic, onions in olive oil, ummmmmmmmmmmm. Who can resist such a dish? If you've had gnocchi before, please share your recipes here, let me know how you cook it and with what meat or vegetables.

If you've never had gnocchi, simply share with us your favorite dish for dinner :) I'm curious to know what's in your plate.

2007-06-17T06:59:00.000-07:00

LOVE LIKE KALLALOO

You bathe me in a pool of rose petals
lather my skin
With shea and mango
Cleansing
Restoring my broken heart
You reach down
Dry me with your tongue from head to toe
your minty breath on my cheek
You whisper like a kiss promising you’ll never make me cry
Take me in your arms
Covering me against the night chill
Stunning and effective
This power of being sexy in your eyes
A delightful surprise when your luscious tongue pays a visit down my throat
And I sigh
We make love under the peppered stars and moonlight
As I weep a sweet lullaby
My skin is fortified with your love
natural radiance I now glow like a sunrise
No more tears of casualty
Your love smooth like kallaloo
Stroking face, hands and breasts with your essence
It vibrates in my heart
A beginning with no end
I savor you my love…
You are to me more than just a friend
(art and poem by C. Delaleu)

Happy Sunday to you all! In case you haven't noticed, I now have an art blog where I will display all my paintings and drawings, please stop on by to see what's new in my Loose & Juicy Art world.

2007-06-14T05:26:00.000-07:00

Hello Blogger Family,

I'm sure you've noticed how busy i've been with drawing and painting. The reason is i'll be one of the vendors at the Harlem Book Fair in July, selling my paintings and my poetry book, Wrapping Thoughts Beneath Emotive Rain. The event is on July 21, 2007 (Saturday) from 11am-6pm in Harlem. I'm so excited. My sister and I are sharing a booth, she will have handpainted greeting cards and art made with blackeye peas. I will let you all know our table number and location as soon as I get them. Meanwhile, feel free to let me know if you're interested in purchasing any paintings I have posted, the size of the first painting is 8x10 ($15) and the second one is 5x7 ($12). Shipping and handling are included, no frames are provided.

I had trouble sleeping last night and a poem came to mind:

It’s unusual to escape the world barefoot
The woman you desire carries words with brass knuckles
Breach of imperfection not stopping her from anchoring
Her eyes are volcanoes of drip moisture
She is understood with bones and a heart
It’s unusual
But you like what you see
The limbs of her hair blushes your face
Sends you daylight on silk pillows
Blinds your loneliness away
© 6/2007 by Cathy Delaleu

2007-06-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

ROSE COLOR INK

Can I curse my fingers without bleeding?
Seeking the pleasure of words to resurrect
Feed the mask I have worn for a decade
I turn to dead poets
Paddling their scripts
For a minute I see them
Stepping
Emphasizing on stage
Creatures of the night
Tongues blossom graffiti
Before I am asked another poem
I study with parched dreams
Hanging in my bedroom closet
Cautiously I dip face in pastel ink
Fabrication prevails
Lifting spine of sleepless fingers
Bracing
Pen and paper
Once again
©6/2007 Cathy Delaleu

My latest adventure with acrylic paint is here...enjoy!

2007-06-10T16:36:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by Stephen Bess...
The rules of this meme are simple. Look at the snap, what does it inspire you to say? Well, write it then, but only in the form of a poetry verse, and only one line that fits in with the preceding line.

That's it. One line of verse that carries over from the line before, and that is in relation with the picture. Present the poem on your blog as you wish (I've used "bold, italic for my line)

The picture is a hut from southern Africa, probably Lesotho, judging by the style.

Please tag only one person who you think will play along. Clearly say/show whom you've tagged so we may easily follow the poem as it builds up. The poem is done when a "tagee" fails to deliver, or when it reaches twenty-five lines. Whichever comes first. It will then be time to vote on a final and last line (twenty-sixth). I'll ask all "tagees" to offer a last line, and I'll put up a poll on Poéfrika so people can vote for the last line.

Once it's done, it will appear here (with credits). And, "tagee," if you don't want to play along, or simply can't, please tell your tagger so that he or she may tag someone else. So here is a line, to which you should add yours, and so on. Don't forget to link to your blog (with the first word of your verse). Visitors are welcome to play along in the comments section.

I'm tagging Xavier

The world waited outside for us
Waited
With moist grass beneath our feet
Cloaked with years of silent preparation
Silence procrastinates with the wind
The mystery of hope pours across the skin

2007-05-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

I want to thank you all for stopping by my humble blog and wishing me well. I am feeling better (with heavy duty meds of course) and thanks for keeping me in your prayers. I go back to work next week (boohoo), well bills needs to be paid, right?

So I wrote this sweet short poem and have no idea if it makes sense. I haven’t written anything new in a while so bare with me and let me know if it does make sense to you. Also, I had to share more of my latest paintings below. Enjoy!

REJUVINATION

There is a story to be told without commercials
Type it slowly in Wikipedia to find its meaning
Worldless on the lips
A negotiation of wordplay in a garden of foreplay
Stay in control with your proof
The diploma of stars applaud you
Show them you’re a woman of grace
Your femininity is what makes this dull life a beautiful crime
Show them your mentality
Packaged with sexual novelty
Hold on to your flesh even with pain
Wear the makeup of hope
Abbreviated with smiles
The paperback of your soul tastefully created
Like a manual art of composition
A refrain message of rejuvenation
That tells us your story
© 5/2007 by C. Delaleu

2007-05-24T12:54:00.000-07:00

Hello Blogger family,

I know it's been a while since I've touched the keyboard. I'm still trying to determine how to elaborate what's been happening with me. It's a long story but i'll make it interesting. First off i've been ill since last October dealing with swollen knees which I thought was an injury from the gym, well my knees got worse to the point of me not being able to go to work. You know how it is in NY, the ups and downs of stairs in the streets with people rushing to get to their destinations. I've been walking like an old person, going to physical therapy which made my knees worse so I had to stop. To make the story short my doctor put me on medical leave, i've been on leave for almost a month now and my mother flew in to take care of me, she's been a tremendous help cooking and cleaning. I found out from the doctor that I have a case of lupus which caused all my joints to swell including my liver which is why it's been too painful to sleep, walk or do any normal movement. I'm now on heavy duty meds to clear all swellings and to bring me back to normal. The meds themselves have side effects but I'm on them for another four weeks. It's been a roller coaster ride but I'm here and miss you all so much.

I haven't been writing much, i've been addicted to painting a lot as you can see. I am loving the 5x7 canvas which I purchased at this cool art store in Manhattan. They are so convenient and easy to paint on.

By the way, get your copy of the Essence Magazine (June issue) on sale now, my poem Confused Being is featured on page 199. Thank you all for your support.

Let me know what you think of the paintings...

2007-04-25T05:16:00.000-07:00

THE TAKE OFF
On bended knee Bocelli sings me Amore
While a plane lands on the highway
Cars speed us by blowing their congratulatory horns
His pleading words infuses a sadness
Mellow verses becomes philosophical
I am a frozen statue in a white organza
A mermaid with satin tears
The soft fabric flowing on my face gains public recognition
Paparazzi shouts out my name
I ignore the screams
The plane takes off in five minutes
I need to decide whether to board without his duet
Bocelli illustrates emotions throwing confetti rose petals
on my chapel length train
The 405 south consist of several traffic jams
“You won’t be back,” he yells
So I answer, “How deep is your devotion to me?”
He doesn’t reply
No point in telling him it’s too late
I march down the First Class aisle
Bouquet of black tulips kissing my hands
Amore
Amore is left standing
I watch from my window seat
the congested crowd follows him to Sicily
I get carried to another proposal
© 4/2007 by Cathy Delaleu
art by Gina Bernardini

It's that time again :)

GRATITUDE:

* The beautiful weather offering a subtle, sweet breeze

* Passion that surrounds me daily, I wake up and I feel its energy in the air

* White Tea with ginger, my AM ritual helps to calm and relax

* New canvas received in the mail, more art work to create :)Yeah!!

* Arrangement of colorful flowers I received this morning from my boss, ahhhhhh, they smell heavenly

* Egg white, tomatoes with lil' bit of cheese

* E'mails from friends and phone calls to check how i'm doing

* the get-well package received in the mail today from my mom, she enclosed some wonderful tea bags and a French CD (Nana Mouskouri)

2007-04-18T05:07:00.000-07:00

GRATITUDE WEDNESDAY:

Gosh, today is only Wednesday? I feel this week is dragging like a snail, is that the case when you come back from vacation?

I have a lot to be grateful for but i'll only share what's most important for now:

* Mom who makes me feel her presence even if she's over 3000 miles away

* My brother calling me last night, wanting to spend the weekend to help around the house, how sweet!

* For the love of art, I'm learning more and more about the craft and loving every minute of it (my latest painting is proof I'm getting there)

* Orange salmon (pictured below), my favorite dish to make at home, the flavor is incredibly tasty. It goes great with whole wheat mac/cheese, brown rice and fried plantains, yummmmmy!!!

P.s. Paintings posted are for sale, feel free to email me for price

2007-04-15T12:05:00.000-07:00

Hello Blogger family,

Miss you guys!

I was in sunny California and Arizona for a week so these are the pictures I've taken during my trip. I did get a chance to paint one canvas which is pic #1, I also got to help my mother make her delicious upside down cake, yummy, and she puts rum in it. My mother is pictured below with my 8 year old daughter, I know I don't talk much about my little girl. She is a handful of blessings and our trip was fabulous. Arizona is a bit slow with not much to do besides shopping and eating, lol. The pic with the palm trees is Woodland Hills area in California, the building is where I used to live with my mom, brother and sister back in my high school days. The Betty Boop pic I drew in my art class my senior year in high school, I completely forgot about this black art book which I had left at my mom's house, it bought back a lot of memories.

I do miss Cali sometimes, especially the food. I did get to indulge in my In n' Out Burger with their addicting vanilla milk shake and also El Pollo Loco, I love their wings. In a blink of an eye it was already time to head back to NY.

2007-04-02T10:09:00.000-07:00

NOON
Pssssssssssstttt…
Come here
Closer
Closer
There is a riot going on
Within her vaginal orifice
Will you tame it for her?
If so, when?
How?
Her palate is dry
Humming
Waiting
12 noon grabs her
like an erotic trail in musky sheets
Looks like this is her new kind of sex

Where morning and night are spelled
Into a routine of horniness
Indulgence turns TV to reality
She becomes Miss New York
Minus the loudness
Without the ghettoness
Her pair of panties on his floor
Is his keepsake
“I could smell you,” he tells her on the phone
and morning sex screams scandal
as the sun beams through the windows
©4/2007 by Cathy Delaleu

Hope everyone had a relaxing weekend. Besides painting, I did some cooking and yesterday I had to attend my writers' group meeting which was encouraging. I was feeling a bit blah with my latest manuscript but I did get a dose of motivation from the group and i'm ready to finish my work.

The poem below is a preview of what's in store...I want to pass along that I have given birth to another healthy blog (Girly Longings), she will be favored by many i'm sure due to it's erotic content. Please stop by and pay her a sweet visit. I don't plan on posting anything but erotic and sometimes explicit poetry and stories once a month in that blog so if you are ever in the mood for dress-down sexy, you can leave your footprints and make yourself at home. Let me know what you think...thanks for the support and enjoy.

2007-03-30T09:17:00.000-07:00

SHORT CLICK III - Heartburn

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”

“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.”

“Ok.”

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

2007-03-28T07:04:00.000-07:00

PROCESSION – SECOND PERSON

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
Upstairs
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

GRATITUDE:

· 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

2007-03-25T14:02:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-03-23T05:16:00.000-07:00

SHORT CLICK - PART II

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.

SHORT CLICK II
by Cathy Delaleu
Art work by Teresa Brazen

2007-03-21T10:03:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-16T05:06:00.000-07:00

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

SHORT CLICK:

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!

2007-03-12T04:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Enjoy!!!

2007-03-09T09:03:00.001-08:00

KNOWLEDGE

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
HAPPY FRIDAY!!

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

2007-02-28T06:41:00.000-08:00

painting by Chelin Sanjuan

Don't you love this painting? I saw it and couldn't help but admire the details exploding with colors. What makes art powerful is when you could feel the artist's passion.

Is it me or is the week flying with a speed of light?

It is Wednesday, that time again to show "gratitude" with a smile...

I am grateful for:

* Hot Showers

* 2nd, 3rd and 4th dates (now that's a good sign)

* Poetry readings, I went to the Urban Juke Joint last Friday and read my poem "Haitian Food", it wasn't at all planned. I was there to show support to another poet friend who was being featured and he encouraged me to put my name on the list. It was great crowd.

* Writing, editing, writing, I am on a roll

* Romance with my own novel in progress, didn't think I would but I'm so inspired

* Many of us search for a song and Urban Butterfly has that ability to gather us together with her words, I am grateful for this gifted poet

* First interviews...I was interviewed last Friday by Stephen Early Jordan aka Bougie and it will be aired via podcast this month in his blog, I will let you all know when

* Popcorn, hot, buttery and perfect for those HBO movie nights with a special someone

* Whole wheat wrap with a little cheddar cheese, chicken, lettuce, mustard and tomatoes, ummmmmmmmmmmm, delicious and top it off with a Jello chocolate pudding snack :)

2007-02-23T14:15:00.000-08:00

GRIP

Love’s bone marrow hangs like stars in her eyes
You hold on to her with the thread of fingers
Praying fervently that she never leaves you
She is your beginning
The image of silky strokes
A sweet fruit of virtual love
That palpitates your name
You run your thoughts
Up and down her buttery curves
Her candied preserves becomes tiny rockets
Smooth like confection
She is gracious
You take your own sweet time to savor
Her tasty hors d’oeuvre
You hold on to her flesh
Praying fervently
She will forever leave you in the upright position
© 2/2007 by Cathy Delaleu

Painting by J Piret

2007-02-21T09:48:00.001-08:00

She is sprung
where love's solstice features certainty
unguarded with a language bearing sweetness
She is one with leaves of hope
gambling with a lover's invitation
scoring oneness to their surroundings
attachment to his embrace is vital to her well-being
afterall...
She is sprung
2/07 by C. Delaleu

art by Haitian painter Michel Ange-Altidort

GRATEFUL I am for:

* The dentist, although I can't stand the sight of needles, the end result is priceless

* First dates...especially when he's a gentleman with a sense of humor

* Short weeks, after a holiday the week usually flies by and we're again facing another weekend

* Cable, I finally signed up for HBO and now I won't miss my Def Poetry Jams :)

* Chicken and mashed potatoes, it was delish for lunch today

* Walnuts, I had a handful this morning and saw in the news that it's good for the heart

* My landlord who is like a mother to me, last night she was so thrilled like a little girl that I spent a couple of hours with her watching American Idol

2007-02-15T06:32:00.000-08:00

UNQUESTIONABLE
Mysterious is the wind beneath her expression
She returns to a place she calls home
where containment of the past is a waterfront
Beyond Lamu she takes refuges
her village a percussion of sadness
hypnotically draining out of her pores
phonograph colors spiral a fertility dance
slowly tipping the crease of her eyes
The fishbone of lips pout musical pieces
spills a constellation to her heart
Sentimental texts unread with tenderness
Yearns for romanticism
She’s stenciled like dry indigo
Dyed with a strong longing to love
She weeps her battle for public opinion
keeps emotions at bay
uncovers the rhythmic steps
of a miserable woman
devoting time to loneliness
© 2/2007 by Cathy Delaleu

Delaleu's Book Signing 2/10/07

2007-02-13T06:35:00.001-08:00

2007-02-07T10:35:00.000-08:00

GRATITUDE:

* For the guitarist who plays like he should win himself a Grammy. He is that good. I can't wait for the book party, when we rehearsed together last night it was magnetic,he played while I read my poems and we created magic

* Salmon salad with avocadoes, yummy and healthy for lunch :)

* Dessert was banana pudding, i'm an addict

* My writers' group (WriteNow), we had a meeting on Sunday and it was productive and laid back. We value each other's opinion which makes the group even more speacial

* Working out, yesterday was my first day back at the gym and it felt grrrrreat!

* I discovered a poet blogger who fascinates me with his verses, check him out...i'm sure he'll appreciate the comments thelettershaper

* The sun was out this morning and I just stood still appreciating bodily heat, the sensation was intimate, but I quickly realized I better cross the street to make it to work, lol

(painting by Luigi Bariotti)

THOUGHTS AND PAPER
The earthy smell of water tastes like altitude sickness
Down the coast a French film crew sits and watches
While I putter hands on your flesh
Leaving reminders of our reality show
I prowl on neck, chest and lips
You are afraid of the mass media
prefer privacy with morning brunches
You drive through San Fernando Valley
with a hungry appetite for summer
I prefer to wait for you
in an evening marketplace of silk, art and souvenirs
I pause with the ink of my pen
Space turns me into black paper
Thoughts are left unspoken
©by C. Delaleu

2007-02-05T13:44:00.000-08:00

Hope you all had a wonderful and warm weekend. The cold is killing us here in NY. When I headed out this early morning for work, it was only 10 degrees outside and I know many of you are experiencing the same temperatures, except for Florida and California. Miss Delaleu here miss Cali's weather but that's about it as far as living there, life to me was too slow. NY keeps me on my toes, no matter how much I complain about the cold in the winter. I've posted my book cover to invite you all to my book event happening this weekend. I meant to post it last week but I've had a lot on my mind. For example, I was close to tears a couple hours ago with the book company i'm dealing with cause' I still didn't get the large order of books for the party. They've been giving me the run around and I lost it when the woman in customer service said she couldn't find anything in her computer showing that I ordered books. Those books were ordered almost a month ago...and the party is Saturday. How embarassing is that? To have a book party without any books. Well, I couldn't calm down and the person responsible for my book account reassured me that by Thursday I should have my books. Keep your fingers crossed, I hope I get them. I would go into details about the ka ka story they told over the phone as they tried to blame UPS but it would get me more upset. So, i'm breathing sloooowwwwwwwly, when I get home I will drink myself a large cup of hot tea and write, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, just what I need.

If you'd like to attend my event, let me know. It will be nice to meet my blogger friends...I'm sure to have another one in the summer or fall.

DATE: Saturday, 2/10/07

TIME: 6pm-9:30pm

LOCATION: Stain Bar, 766 Grand Street, Brooklyn (Williamsburg)www.stainbar.com

PERFORMANCE:Poetry performance starts at 7pm

Appetizers and drinks will be served

2007-02-01T16:56:00.000-08:00

CAPITAL DECEPTION

So you wanna keep it real?
When your fake Gucci bag was made by child labor
Brag about your diamond in the ruff
Your bling bling worth the price tag of Africa’s sweat and blood

You wanna make it clear?
Validate that ring on your finger with insurance
Too ashamed to admit your sparkling jewelry
Caused brutality
Romance with Fendi is a civilian’s fatality
Calling for amputated limbs
Taxing children like cheap labels
Their blood fading from counterfeit skins
Stitching slander
you brag
brag with a foul breath about your bling bling
your plastic Luis Vuitton
interpretates Miss Bougie
You’re the shit
Miss Designer label with the lopsided logo

Keep it real…
Can’t you smell their greed?
Sweatshops boasting immigration
In blood-stained rooms
refugees funding in open-pit mines
with cocaine packing lungs of child soldiers
execution of human rights lurking heat
sniffing minimum wage
made with your cash
melting your taxes
into fake pleather
made in your USA

just remember
let’s keep it real

© 2/1/07 by C. Delaleu
picture by Amnesty Magazine

blood diamonds, the enslavement of africans
many have their opinions about this subject, feel free to express yourself

2007-01-31T08:21:00.000-08:00

My Gratitude this week is...

* Love, with it I see clearly and without it i'm lost

* Books - I can't get enough of it, I love the scent of a new book, new words, great inspiration

* My girlfriend, she is a poet who calls herself "NightWriter" and she has been a tremendous help with my poetry rehearsal for my book release party

* WriteNow Writers', it's a small group of poets/writers and we've been going on strong since October 2006. It's been great getting together and encouraging one another with our writings

* My daughter, she made me laugh when she sang to me last night

* Egg white omelette with scallions, red bell peppers, lil bit of cheese and lil bit of turkey and some hot sauce (yummmmmmmmy)

* The lyrical mind of Stepen Bess, his writing refreshes and boost the immune system :)

* Sleep

* Photoshop, i'm having too much fun, I used this old pic on top which I embellished playing around with the software

* Makendal is a friend of mine who is a wonderful Haitian poet/writer, I decided to post one of his work below...his writing seduces the mind and senses, the side effects are contagious :)tell me what you think. His website:www.themaroons.net

NIGHT'S ALONE I STRIP MYSELF NAKED

nights alone
i strip myself naked
strip my mind and my soul
and use the erection of my pen
to make love to my paper mate
pen and pad
i kiss each line with bliss
and reminisce
letting my ink ejaculate
from my brain's urethra
with a plethora
of verbal spermicidal fluids,
grinding my mind slowly
and passionately letting my soul erupt
in orgasm after orgasm
line after line
i embrace the silence
and the emptiness
kissing my thoughts slowly
and running my fingers down my soul's spine.

i become one with my emptiness
lyrically
i confess
but do not
cannot
let it overcome me
for in this sensual session
i find the blessing
of loving self
and being self
all by myself.

i taste her,
this paper
and smell her newness,
sometimes I rape her
spread open
waiting
seemingly panting
and wanting
to feel me
painting with my brush
but she does not caress me back
until i have finished filling her
having given her
all of myself
and blessing her

with my mental prayer.

my instrument becomes her vibrator,
as she caresses my ball
points and makes it her point
to point me in the direction of her boiling point,
FASTER, NON-STOP...

she's selfish
sometimes waking me up in the middle of the night
to find a light and grab my constant erection
to give and give and give
with finger/mental thrusts,
lip/tongue licks,
eyes wide shut,
panting, yet hardly breathing,
toes curled
until spent,
mentally dehydrated for a moment
in after shock
i lay back in the dark
hands numb
and fluids a collage
impregnated into her
to give birth to
another child
I name poetry,
my poetry.

she is fertile
on my nights alone,
a nymphomaniac
infectious, turning me into
an insomniac,
and i love her all the same
because she is always there
on my nights alone.
and she

is poetry.

2007-01-29T05:28:00.000-08:00

Hello Bloggers and Bloggettes,

My weekend was uneventful...I stayed in, hybernating with a remote control in one hand and my laptop with the other. I think that's the best medicine for winter, if you have a pen, paper or computer, that's enough to keep your fingers warm and your mind inspired. A girlfriend of mine who is a computer genius gave my laptop a boost and major makeover, I now have photoshop which is cool. The paintings you see below are created by my sister, Maggie, using acrylic on canvas and I played around with photoshop, I think they look nice. I have some more which I will display this week. I love using colors so I'm in a huge playground with this new software. So, how was your weekend? Tell me, did you play in the snow or stayed under covers with your honey? Of course I had some writing done...

WHAT SISTER THINKS
She says my eyes are bigger than my lungs
I should take time to grammatize my breathing
She thinks I’m too quick to drink the lies of a male lover
Wants to comprehend why I write so much with his sharp girth
His semen becomes the ink that spills all over my sheets
She frowns at the sight of me swallowing his slang
My writing becomes his street-life
His junky
His drug addiction
His sentimental education
His morals I speak in reverse with no exception to rules
She tells me to find another man
Without bed or pillowcases to slap me around
One who holds a Masters
One who won’t read my vocabulary cause’
Of theatre presence
A man with guide of antiquities
My sister worries I will be looked down
As a natural disaster
© by C.Delaleu

2007-01-25T05:21:00.000-08:00

GRATITUDE:

I feel the week has been dragging. Yesterday, I’ve been thinking what should I be grateful for? Winter is showing it’s ugly face; cold and moody people surrounds me and most are annoyed with the 30-degree weather (actually it's dropping to 20 tonight).

Regardless, I’m smiling away. I won't allow anyone to spoil my mood, not even some crazy characters who are pushing my buttons. Blogger was acting up yesterday so I couldn't post my gratitude. Here's my list:

* Orange juice is loaded with vitamin C and helps with my weak immune system
· Mom’s bonnet, I love that hat, it’s old but keeps my head warm
* I was contacted by Essence Magazine, they chose one of my poems to be published, i'll let you all know which issue
· My health – legs are getting stronger, I’ll be back at the gym in no time
* Rethabile’s poems, his words are impeccably thoughtful and takes you there
· My journal, I write, write, sigh, write some more and sigh :)
* Chocolate Jello pudding, yummmmmmmmmmy! Something sweet is always a treat
· Scented candles, soothing and calming scents keeps the moodiness away

BONE SNATCHER OF MY SOUL
I watch…
Intently I watch him asleep
Next to me, he dreams
With such intensity
I want to caress his face but he looks so peacefully laced with
His dreams perhaps of “we”
Masterfully dancing in our journey of Ben and Jerry’s flavors
Homemade euphoria when he scoops my creamy fudge temple
Part my chocolate sea thighs
With an electric harp chiming behind us
Like a choreography of romance
Kissing my mouth with formal reverence
We twirl in unison into sweet sorbets of theatre du soleil
Palatable and vibrant
Repetitive and tedious as my body color paints
Thousands of strokes provoked by the grinds
Of a rapturous behind
It’s only been five months
But that is why I want more
More, please…
And refreshingly dense
Is our couple’s dance
And I surrender to such 07’avalanche
Compressed coffee to last for centuries
Stronger than Kona, Bostello, Folgers or Starbucks
This romance exhibiting tropical images
Impromptu and limitless
With a play-list of endless…endless
Love layered in my periosteum bones
Dug deep in the marrow of my soul
This door no longer closed
Behold
In my eyes he is so beautiful
Nourishing bones with love cells
All 206 of them with a spell
Protecting my organs
Deliciously planted as we reject all negative preserves
From this universe collecting discrepancies
He stirs…
Eyes of nutmeg are opened
Glazing bookshelves of arousal as he displays
Such swollen erection
“Good morning, baby,” I say to him sweetly
And he kisses me slowly
Opening my eatery with vitality
Bone snatcher of my soul
We make such a delicious combo
And happily I feed him diligently
(c)by C. Delaleu

Interview with Magalie D. Foster

2007-01-18T10:15:00.000-08:00

Magalie Delaleu Foster is a self-taught artist, marching to the beat of her own drum. About ten years ago she decided to use black-eyed peas on canvas instead of cooking them for dinner, her creation then spread from canvas to greeting cards. She is fascinated with colors, characters and stories, coming from a Haitian background goes without saying. A brief interview gives you a chance to know more.

How long have you been painting?
7 years

What’s your inspiration?
Everything inspires me, life, laughter, children. My work is happy, bright and colorful. I tackle several styles and themes. I try to keep it as simple yet color to capture one's attention

Why are you an artist?

It’s in my blood; it’s in the blood that flows through my veins. It feels like I’ve been doing this forever.

What artist has influenced you?

My Uncle Daniel, that man can paint. He is not afraid to pull you into his artwork. Also Haitian art to me is beautiful, the colors, the people, the culture.

What other interest you have besides painting?

I have too many. Crafting, decorating, photography, cooking, the list goes on and on

How have you handled the business of being an artist?

Keeping it classy and professional

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

I see myself successful whether it’s crafting, decorating or painting. I see longevity

What advice do you give to an artist just starting out?

Patience, lots of patience and passion

To check out more of Maggie’s work, visit her website.

2007-01-17T06:31:00.000-08:00

It will one day happen without power of sound
they'll sit on their tiny stools fit for a lazy king
watch us pound bags of charcoal
turn them into a palace
Mother's breadfruit has dried up her nipples
she has no milk left to water the ground
her skin is darker than blackout
I barely see her shadow when she whispers
her words dotted like coffee beans
I follow them to a field where she dances
with Spain around a wild fire
her feet are stained blood
the French are back
surrounding the highest mountains
they want our corn
our coffee rot in their teeth
they want our color
our foundation is rust
they sit on their tiny stools to admire
to envy our pigments
café au lait is Mongolian spots
shipped by mother's dried milk
I chant her blessings over loud drums
and they run
run with the wind on their feet
vitiligo shifting their heart
©2007 by C. Delaleu
painting by Stefan Path

MY GRATITUDE...

* Xavier for his wonderful knowledge, thanks to him you can view videos on my page
* My knitted black scarf (keeps me nice and warm), the cold out there is no joke
* Hair wigs...I wear them only for emergencies and love trying different styles
* Laughter (I read someone's blog today rebellionlies and I couldn't stop laughing)
* My laptop (although it's been sluggish it keeps me working)
* Fruits (pineapple)
* Peace and quiet...I come home late last night and I hear crickets :)
* Rotisserie chicken and vegetables that's lunch for today

2007-01-15T09:02:00.000-08:00

I was tagged by Miss Kai

TEN THINGS DEFINE MY STYLE

1. My true calling is writing,writing poetry and novels
2. The color orange, the burnt orange you see when the sun goes down on a hot desert
3. Flowers and fairies
4. Curly hair
5. scented perfumed oils, they last longer. I hardly wear perfumes made with alcohol
6. I love all kind of music, I can go from Marvin Gaye to Andrea Bocelli in one day, well I don’t know about country
7. My de-stresser is writing or cooking my favorite dishes
8. I don’t sing, I’ve been told I have a nice voice over the phone which I’ll put it to good use on my poetry CD, lol, but you won’t hear me sing
9. My indulgence is Junior’s Cheesecake, if you live in NY you know it has an intoxicating effect on the hips :-)
10. My rings, I’ve always been into funky artsy rings and earrings