Document 6471011

SPRING '05 SEMESTER
WRITING CONTEST WINNERS
Sponsored by the English/Social Sciences Department
Fiction
1st Place: “Alphabet City” Victoria Guerrero
2nd Place: “Last Dance” Anita Luckett
Poetry
1st Place: “I Rose” Cynthia Saldaña
2nd Place: “As I Remember Him" Victoria Guerrero
Honorable Mention
“Gradual” Nancy Rivera
“Stolen Innocence” Victoria Guerrero
I Rose
(a tribute to Maya Angelou) by Cynthia Saldaña
When I was a kid you tried
To leave me
Left me there,
Like you didn't need me, but
…I Rose…
Homelessness, depression
No job, no education,
No kind of preparation, but
…I Rose…
Dirty little secrets
That lay hidden at home
Never to be known, but
…I Rose…
Injustice at my door
Made me explode with
anger and distress,
Mad at a system that is
still a mess,
No apologies, no one
confessed, but
…I Rose…
13, decided to leave
With no hesitation
Little did I know
About the street temptations, but
…I Rose…
Met a man with age,
filled with rage
Decided he would hold me
in a cage, but
Page 2
…I Rose…
I would like to thank "the Judge"
Who thought for 4 years
That my life was a prank
They no longer believed
in me, but
…I Rose…
Now, look at me
Mother of six
With a college degree,
Writing and sharing
My poetry,
Thanks to the hardships
That inspired me
To be
Who it is that I
Am destined to be, "a Judge"
I Rise
I Rose
I have Risen and
I Will Keep On Rising!
Alphabet City
by Victoria Guerrero
I grew up on Seventh Street and Avenue D, better known as
Alphabet City which is located on the lower east side of Manhattan.
I don't live there anymore, but the old neighborhood, memories and
all, still live in me. I still remember the good times I had in my old
elementary school, my favorite hangouts, the businesses in the
area and some of the people.
The building my family and I lived in was fourteen stories tall. I
remember being a little girl looking way up and wondering if the
people who lived on the top floor could reach out their windows and
touch the clouds. I lived way down below on the second floor, which was fine with me because I'm
afraid of heights.
If you looked out of my window you could see clear into the Medical/Dental Clinic across the street.
I remember seeing the people sitting in their chairs waiting for their number to appear on the little
screen, indicating that it was their turn to see the doctor. When I was going to enter first grade my
mother took me to get my shots. I was so terrified it took my mother and two nurses to hold me down;
they quickly let go when I peed on myself.
P.S. 64, was located two avenues away on Avenue B and Sixth Street. Some of my best memories are of the six years I spent there. It's where I had my first fight, the first time I kicked a boy where
it hurts the most, and where I used to take Jeremiah's hair, which was down to his knees, wrap it
around his neck and drag him around the gym floor.
After school I would go to the penny candy store on Seventh Street between Avenues D and C. It
was always packed with kids playing video games and just hanging out listening to music on the
jukebox. You could go in there with ten cents and come out with ten candies. In the back, in a secret
room, you'd find adults illegally playing slots and poker machines. After the cops raided it, for what
seemed like the hundredth time, it went out of business. I was eleven.
The amphitheater, located on the south side of my building, was where I went to see the
beautiful shows that were put on during the summer months. I saw beauty contests, talent shows, and
festivals celebrating Puerto Rican pride. It was also where I had my first kiss. I was fourteen and it had
taken me a whole year to work up the nerve to tell Nelson that I liked him. When he leaned in to kiss
me I burst out laughing because I was so nervous. I'm glad I finally stopped laughing because it was
a kiss I would never forget.
In front of my building was a large play area. It was surrounded by wooden benches where las
bonchicheras would sit all day and gossip about everyone who walked by. The kids in the
neighborhood, including myself, would play skellies, hopscotch, jump rope, and football here. Every
now and then a gun fight would break out and everyone would run into my building until it was over.
Across the street, on the same block of the medical/dental clinic was the Chinese restaurant,
where I learned to say curse words in Chinese. On the other side of the clinic was the grocery store
where my mother took fiao. When we ran out of groceries she would get the essentials on credit until
the food stamps came in. Across the street on the other corner of Seventh Street was Dave's
Pharmacy where my father spent lots of time sharing war stories with Dave and his other friends. Next
to the pharmacy was La Placita, the neighborhood fruit and vegetable stand. The owners were a sweet
Puerto Rican couple who spoke little English, but that didn't stop them form being adored by everyone
who lived in the area.
continued on page 13
Page 3
As I
Remember
Him
by Victoria Guerrero
I don't think of the man during
the last of his days.
The frail look upon his face,
the cane in his hand helping him
to keep his balance,
the way he huffed and puffed
to walk a short distance.
I don't think of the feeling
of skin on bones underneath
my hands as I helped him
to his feet,
the way he looked away in shame
with tears in his eyes.
I think of the man who loved life,
the man who played handball
with vigor everyday
when he picked me up from school,
who swung all my friends
on the wheel in the park
and earned their love.
I keep him, the man in the photo,
that heavyset man with the smile
on his face, standing proudly
beside me in the Puerto Rican Day Parade.
I keep him the man
with his arms opened wide,
always waiting, always welcoming
me to rush into them.
My dad's hands, warm and strong,
caressing my hair and saying,
I Love You Mama.
Page 4
Last
Dance
by Anita Luckett
I can remember
this day because the
air was heavy and the
wind flew through the
strands of her hair
like impressions on
the
ocean.
Her
restless feet were
pale and abrade, like
she had been running
for miles prior to
her coming to this
abandoned overpass
that sheltered nothing
but darkness and
sadness.
Her white wedding
dress was frayed and
heaved against the
poles of the bridge. It
is a bridge I come to
when I just need time
to reflect. I could tell
that she was troubled
by the tears trickling down her face and how her arms
were spread in the air like a baby bird waiting to fly. As
I got closer to her she took a step towards her destiny.
I froze in my position, suddenly feeling like I held the
strings to her last dance. I wanted to ask her why, but
I knew this would only induce more pain, so I looked
intently into her eyes hoping that somehow I could
make it all go away.
The water beneath us resembled a black hole and
the only light I could see was from a broken street
lamp. I tried to speak, but my voice gave out. As she
danced along the edge I closed my eyes, hoping that
something deep inside her would change her mind.
But when I opened my eyes she was no longer there,
not even a ripple of water to attest that she had
jumped.
Gradual
(for my sister-iin-llaw) by Nancy Rivera
Yvonne sleeps forever.
Lungs run out of air,
Breathing is shallow, gurgling gasping for another chance
Says I love you in a panting voice, attempts to smile
Dialogue is minimal,
Coughing is persistent the phlegm clogs the passageway,
Moans and cries for more treatment and medication,
Appetite is no longer a necessity,
Slowly sips ice water
Listens closely to family and friends,
Hugs and holds close with anticipation,
Attempts to make her audience laugh
Paces back and forth,
Tries to take out the tubes and refuses care,
In denial of what is going to happen
Legs can no longer function,
Bones begin to show through, 50 lbs lighter,
Cares no more for her arroz con abichuelas,
Forgets about moving and attaches herself to the bed,
Hair falls off
Face gets pale with less emotion,
Cough is overwhelming,
Hasn't seen a doctor in years and finally goes,
Complains of a bothersome cold
Allergic to comb and brush, wears an everlasting moño,
Slightly overweight and proud of her chichos,
Enjoys to cook and 'comer sin pena',
Every one goes to her with their drama, a good friend
First one screaming 'Que viva Puerto Rico!!' in the annual parade
Dances to every song while taking sips of Henney,
Walks the entire projects', chattin' with her girlz,
Smokes her joint like a hippie in the 70's,
Lights up her 2-3-pack habit
Yvonne lives
A carefree life.
Page 5
At Night I Cry
By Gary Roszko
Sometimes I sit awake at night and
cry
out of pain or hurt
to release everything within me
I cry -
Stolen
Innocence
By Victoria Guerrero
The sounds were deafening.
She could only listen to his
moans as she screamed
internally, hoping to be
heard, but no one came to
rescue her precious little soul.
It was so long ago, though
it feels like yesterday. She
still hears his menacing
whispers, still feels his
heavy body, suffocating.
She still feels his enormous
hands, caging.
Could life be so cruel, as to
take away the innocence of
a child so abruptly, so painfully?
Can desire of human need reach
such a point where malice
overpowers human compassion?
Unfortunately life must go on.
No one will ever know the
truth of what evils he committed.
She'll move on laggardly, her
silence slowly killing her soul,
until one day she'll l find the
strength to tell someone.
Page 6
for the ugliness I see everyday
for the babies with no mothers
for the mothers with no babies
for those that died so I could be free
I cry for the poor But more tear drops for the rich.
I cry because they think that paper
makes them better.
I cry for everything yet I cry
for nothing cry because I know that
we are born to die yet few of us ever really live.
Sometimes I go to sleep so full of life
only to wake up dead the next morning.
Now I am tired of crying,
tired of being unheard
I won't shed tears for the fallen.
I will stand and fight
Not with my fist But with my mind.
I will not pound on the door and
demand to be let in nor will I sneak in the back door.
I will force them to open the front door
and welcome me.
Then while I am on the inside
my unheard tears will find a voice
I will let it be known that we do not cry
alone.
We all have a unique story to tell Struggles we've been through,
Battles we've won.
They've made us stronger,
--Wiser,
--Made us who we are.
Liife Has Just
Begun
We are warriors fighting to achieve
We are achievers - and we will succeed.
We end one journey to begin anew,
In the quest for power,
Education is the key.
There are no gradations And only infinite expectations.
When you reflect back on becoming
a Monroe Graduate What will your story be?
Will you mention the sleepless nights Or the day you cried over the person you loved
telling you:
"You would be nothing without me!"
Or will you remember the person who inspired you?
- Encouraged you to climb just a little higher?
Who said you were beautiful?
Who believed in you and saw the fire?
Will your life read like a Novel?
Or a Fairytale?
What is your new found voice?
What is your new found faith?
Who have you become in the face of Adversity?
Class of 2005 - LIFE HAS JUST BEGUN!!
Written by Victoria Guerrero, Nancy Rivera, and Gary Roszko. (Special thanks to Professor
Rodriguez for his faith in this project, as well as his editorial assistance.) We would also like to thank
the wonderful and dedicated Creative Class of spring 2005 - guys, life has just begun!
Page 7
The Senses of
My Life
By Margaretta Patterson
How beautiful and translucent.
You have the colors of a prism. Cherry red, deep
sky blue, green of the Belizean Sea, with so
many others in the light,
they pour over me in complete unison.
I feel pleasure in your existence.
How bright and solid you stand. Picturesque like
the Sedona Desert with its mountains so red and
yet as strong as the vortex you feel but cannot
see.
Still amazing in all your glory.
How sweet the scent. Like the rainforest after
the rain leaves. The mist is continuously
soothing to its habitats as the sweet smell of
Jasmine floats in the air and the slight scent of
eucalyptus embraces my soul.
Passion's Flames
By Diana Paulino
Euphoria descends on me with delight.
How wonderful the soft and comforting touch. I
can't see it, but I feel it, her embrace is glorious.
Now I succumb to the warm waters flowing over
me. I'm evaporating-being one with her.
I feel as if a great cleansing has begun.
How delightful the sounds as though one
thousand Harps were being played as one. Oh,
how wonderful the chimes being orchestrated by
the wind. Like the ceremony of the forest fairies
about to take flight.
Music of the forest delights my soul and I dance
about for hours - a rhythm without end.
A touch, soft and tender
A whisper, full of desire
A gasp of sweet surrender
As passion fuels the fire
No
No
No
No
words spoken between them
promises to be kept
lies being told tonight
looking back, no regrets
Longing to hold each other
Such precious little time
Both vowed to another
Being lonely our only crime
Tomorrow bringing sorrow
A brief moment of this one night
With the memory of this one night
A release from passion's flames
Page 8
Black
is
Beautiful
The Flower
and the Bee
By Shakeema Smalls
I am black and beautiful,
deep dark skin, dark brown
eyes with dark brown hair.
This is me, dark as can be. I
have a bright smile, which
people love to see. I smile all
the time 'cause that's just me. I love when people stare and
By Myrna Henao
admire my complexion, and here I was thinking it was my
I feel naked when your eyes are on me. imperfection. Growing up I never knew that I would see the
day that I would love my skin in every single way. I've
I am trembling, I am sweating,
endured being picked on, being teased, and kids being just
I feel your fingertips playing with my
plain mean to me for something I had nothing to do with. I
hair.
can't help if my skin is darker than yours, or my hair is
darker than hers, or that my eyes are darker than his,
Is that the moment?
because that's just me. Take it or leave it because that's the
Your breathing is heavy now,
way it is.
I touch your sweat,
I am the darkest one in my family. I never understood
You are getting closer and closer.
why it was this way. My mom is not light, but not as dark as
me. I never understood how this could be. My dad is kind
My heart is pounding,
of light or has caramel skin. Where am I? I don't fit in. I have
Beating so fast.
three sisters and two brothers, none as dark as me, but a
few come close and that's ok with me. I cannot change the
You are sipping my sweetness,
way I am because that's just me. People judge you on the
You are fulfilling my desires,
skin you are in. That is not fair, but now I don't really care.
I cannot move,
You can be my friend and love me for the person I am on
Your warm skin is touching mine,
the inside. It's lovely in there. Too bad you won't take the
time to see I am as lovely as can be, just get to know me.
Please, don't go!
Take it or leave it because that's the way it is. This is me,
I need you so bad beautiful as can be.
I have learned to love myself in every single way. I
But you have other lips to kiss
never
thought I'd see the day, when the color of my skin
Besides mine,
doesn't determine whether I fit in. What matters is being
How cruel that is.
who you are and staying true to yourself and you will learn
to love everyone else. This is me, dark as night, but sweet
I am by myself - once again.
as a peach on a hot summer day. I love myself in every
way. I'd never change who I am any day. I'm just me, black
and beautiful, in every way.
Page 9
I'll Show You Who I am
By Nancy Rivera
I'll show you who I am
Where does reality begin and end?
does it lie within a circle's flow?
Am I me from the past, or me from now,
and where did the old child go?
Did you know that it's easier to believe the bad
and think that we're the cause
of hurts played out upon us deep
and long?
Turned inside out and back again
the sense of who I used to be
is caught in a drowning thunderstorm
Can you recognize the smell of fear,
or see what color it paints your dreams?
Have you ever willed your lungs to breathe
yet prayed that very breath would somehow cease?
Did you know that breaking bones go crunch
and the sound will never leave your ears?
Did you know that bodies break, not bend,
as the spirit fills with tears?
Did you know the sound from your lungs
can become a devil's scream,
harsh and thin and shrill?
And that dying forces can overcome us
and some scars never heal?
You can't find who you are inside
to connect to what is real
You think he can't enter your spirit,
that you're fighting off the blows,
but time reflects your error as he settles
deeper than you know
I wear the mask, I dance the dance
of a woman free from scars and pain,
but remove the mask and I'm unrecognizable
even though I look the same
Page 10
Chick Flicks
By Jevin K. Ramjattan
We could sit and watch
chick flicks together.
Cry until our eyes burn,
reminiscing about forever.
Huddle up and wipe each
other's tears in the warm
glow of our TV, on the
floor, at the base of our chairs,
with popcorn stuck in our teeth.
At every breakup
we hold each other tight.
At every love scene
we hold our heads and cry.
Sensitive sides emerge,
deep in love,
these pent up minds submerge.
Now, as the credits roll,
We kiss: Like a romantic comedy,
but in the end,
It's more Romantic, then comic.
When We First
Met
(Dedicado con mucho carino para Lina)
By Luis Crespo
Do you remember how we first met?
It's one of the sweetest memories I possess.
I look back and see us both-two strangers,
meeting for the first time.
Who would have guessed then how our
friendship would grow,
and become as binding as only we both know.
Whether tempest blows, or gale or storm,
to know that I have you to lean my head on,
Whether strife you encounter, or battle, or war,
I'm here for you.
Maybe, when the years have passed,
and I, with my wrinkled cheeks,
am sad,
perhaps with all hopes dashed to the ground,
perhaps dreams, all shattered,
shall surround,
the thought of you will make me
smile.
For though my eyes are weak and old
and my mind is feeble,
there remains one thing I can never forget I will still remember,
when we first met.
Page 11
"Let it go!"
By Cynthia Saldaña
Goodnight
By Stephanie Diaz
So many stories to tell,
That when I hear them,
It rings a bell Is this girl in my world?
Can she see what's in me?
Bulldoze the bed where we made love,
bulldoze the whole room.
Shattered pieces of glass are reflections
of my heart's pain.
Coincidence, not
But her story
Said a lot -
Forget about the clock on the
wall that once told us time
was on our side -
Five generations of pain
So many women with strain
How to deal with
The stress on the brain,
It's insane -
May the hands fall off.
Flames of my anger burn
with memories I see in pictures,
my soul withering away, the color
fading like a rose in the throes
of death.
Forget about the damn dreams
That I held filled with smiles and
laughter. Damn the thought that love was
mine to keep but more like a butterfly that
could not be held.
I walk my path in silence.
Now the darkness of the
night is a reminder of my loneliness.
The house is empty.
Shadows cover its light. The happiness
that was once there is now exiled
into someplace unknown.
Goodnight.
Page 12
How two stories are almost
the same.
What can I do to break this cycle?
Speak to the weak?
Let them learn
The lessons you have
To teach?
My girl Go on and preach!
And even if you cry
We'll understand the
Pain you hold inside,
And feel what it is to set your story free,
Let go of the misery.
And then you will see
That you are changing history!
Surrender
By Stephanie Diaz
Don't look at me any more.
Your eyes are fierce and shadowed, on the hunt.
Mine are like mirrors, you see the reflection of
the pain in my soul Hear my heart pounding like a drum.
It is love, it is war.
I suffer from the scars you leave,
each one deeper
than the last.
I'm who you want me to be.
It is my love for you that makes me surrender?
what am I to do?
With every battle I lost,
I lose more and more of me.
You've left me wounded, cut, and bleeding,
creating a widespread panic throughout my
being.
I am in love, I am at war.
"Alphabet City" continued from page 3
On the side of the amphitheater you crossed the street to the walk bridge that led to the East River
Park. During the summer, my mom would spend hours there sunbathing while my brother and I played
on the swings. My brother lost his virginity there when he was eighteen. He made the mistake of
confiding in Nelson, my boyfriend. Nelson told me and, of course, being the perfect little sister, made
a local broadcast it to everyone I knew.
In my building lived the lunch lady from my elementary school. All the kids knew her, but not
because she served us lunch at school, but because she was also the garden lady. Her name was
Margarita. She and her husband planted gardens all around the neighborhood trying to make it seem
more tropical and colorful. I loved to look at all the pretty flowers she planted. She died when I was
fifteen and her gardens died with her.
I go back to my old neighborhood often but it's not the same. Most of the places I remember no
longer exist, like the amphitheater. It was knocked down a few years ago. Most of the businesses have
been replaced with new businesses and most of the kids I grew up with have either moved away, are
in jail, or are caught up in drugs. Most of las bonchicheras have since died and have been replaced
with thugs looking for trouble. It may not be the same, but as long as the memories are alive in me it
won't ever be gone.
Page 13
More Then You
Will Ever Be
By Mary Ann Garcia
Come
To Me
By Mary Ann Garcia
I was in your arms
Thinking I belonged there
But I was just a fool
You weren't playing by the rules
Sun beams bouncing off your gleaming eyes
Whisking me off to the beach in my daydreams
I can walk down that road again
With someone like you by my side
I could sense you slipping away
The fear in your eyes that
I would plead for you to stay
But I held strong and
Let you go your way
My faith in love cannot be destroyed
You make me laugh so much
I had forgotten I cried
Heart looking for a home
Sometimes I still think you're here too
Turning on lights, T.V. and the radio
Still can't escape the ghost of you
I can't cry for yesterday
Here today, fearing tomorrow
I still stand strong
Despite the drowning sorrow
I can smile to cover a lie
And tell you that I'm fine
But now you are pale faced
Because I'm in a better place
- More then you will ever be
Page 14
There was a feeling of a soft hand
Caressing my tender heart
So one story ends and this is
Where I will start…again
Swallowed pride, with closed eyes and
Toned down hurt walking towards
The chance that many are afraid to take
See the fruits of a little patience
Sensing your private emotions
I dreamt of holding
your hand
I open my eyes and
see you
Come to me
Four Walls
By Sarah Altamirano
The four walls that I wouldn't forget
I looked at those four walls until he was done,
crying in fear that
it wouldn't happen again
The coldness of this place will
never leave my mind
I have cried
and cried
His rough hands were like sandpaper
against my soft skin,
trying to catch my breath
every time his hands
left my mouth
He gave me so much pain
that I will never forget
burning through the deepest
depths of my soul
At this moment I thought
I was at the end of
what I thought was a
wonderful life
He stalks out of the room,
I do not knowing what is
going to happen next
I am now running
down the street
screaming for help
Now to the precinct for a line up four walls, closing in
again
La Bomba
(for my grandmother)
By Shanua Rodriguez
The voice calls
From deep inside will I pull it
for you and for me
I will canta a song
of call and response
for my Boricua ancestors
out of the utmost respect
for the bomba that has
grooved me
and schooled me
Calling from unseen
places, my grandmothers
and grandfathers before me
help me play and repeat
Hearts with strong hands
I'm willing to play
with Indio heart & Afro seasoning
I will play, gripping and grasping
the words, feeling your feet pound
the pavement
traditionally
just like the ones
kidnapped before you
I will play
Tears stream down my face
hand slaps and sweeps wrists
gripping and grasping the words
feeling your feet pound the pavement
traditionally in the ancestral light
and I will play
with dark hands
with Boricua roots
Willingly
Page 15
The Literary Magazine
of
Monroe College
Creative Campus
is a publication of
Monroe College
Bronx, New York 10468
New Rochelle, New York 10801
Subversive
Moon
by Jorge Rodriguez
Subversive moon tonight
between you and I.
The sigh of silk, the intoxication
of your heat, sublime.
Subversive moon tonight
between you and I.
Fall, 2005
The hunger for you
lips, your
hair, your thighs,
beneath
this dark Borinquen
sky.
Copyright © 2005 - Monroe College
Student Contributors
Sarah Altamirano
Luis Crespo
Stephanie Diaz
MaryAnn Garcia
Victoria Guerrero
Myrna Henao
Anita Luckett
Margaretta Patterson
Diana Paulino
Jevin K. Ramjattan
Nancy Rivera
Gary Roszko
Cynthia Saldaña
Shakeema Smalls
Subversive moon
tonight
between you and I.
Layout & Art
Shanua U. Rodriguez
Losing ourselves in
this passion,
this temptation -
Faculty Advisor
Jorge Rodriguez
You are invited to contribute to future issues of
Creative Campus
Contact Professor Rodriguez
Email: Jrodriguez@monroecollege.edu
Or drop by
Room 916 West Hall
Monday through Thursday from 12 pm to 2:30 pm
Evening students may submit items to
Professor Ted Goldstein,
Director of the Bachelor’s degree program
New Rochelle students may submit items to
Professor Suzanne Young,
Milavec Hall
All entries must be submitted on 3.5" disks or
emailed and labeled appropriately.
This issue is dedicated in loving tribute to
my father, Miguel Rodriguez. I miss you.
you are my dark
queen,
and I am your
wicked
denomination.
Subversive moon, between
you and I.