The Santa Ana Literary Association presented a new poem by a local poet every week this year. The following poems were submitted after our 52 slots for weekly featured poets had been filled, but the folks at the SALA aren’t going to let anyone’s voice in our community go unheard.

Here is the final segment of the yearlong poetry project:

An Ode to Earrings

By: Kathleen Nguyen

Oh Earrings,
How you shine bright like a diamond,
How you are 2 flowers blooming on a sunny summer day,
Oh Earrings,
A mix of 24k gold and sterling silver,
You always find a way back into my pierced ears,
Oh Earrings,
You are a perfect example of
“It’s the little things that matter most”
Out of the wide selection, you were the most stylish,
Oh Earrings,
My favorite pair of earrings,
Once you’re on my ears,
I feel confident.

Unfortunately, I lost one earring long ago,
Meaning, the remaining earring lost her best friend, her sister,
I still have her though,
Locked away in a box and never worn since,
It’s my good luck charm,
Like my personal 4-leaf clover,
Only worn when needed,
And when worn, taken good care of,
We know what happened last time,
Oh Earrings,
What’d I do to have you two reunite.

Kathleen Nguyen is a high school student with a passion for writing poetry. She uses poetry as a form of art to express herself with no restrictions. Her writings started in school and eventually branched out to independent work.

Traffic Cone

By: Nikki Sevenn

Orange cone, dream cone
Keep me on the path
Wait for me to drive on by
And watch your point go past

I see you in my rearview mirror now
Your hue intoxicates me
You reflect my passion in your tape
And gawk at me with your one sexy eye

Nikki Sevenn is stuck in rut of swiftly moving parts. When she’s not writing, she is looking for another distraction. Someday, she hopes to Supernova.

Latinx

By: Moisés Ramírez

I am a man
And that is offensive
My sister is a woman
And that is unacceptable
We are unspeakable children
Children guilty of bigotry
We choose to stand next to our father
His name is reason
And he has lost his grip on reality
I am a Latino
My sister is a Latina
In our native tongue we are Latinos
Evil is the umbrella of a man
Except when it provides opportunity
In English we are Latin Americans
All-encompassing by virtue
Redundant X’s are suppressive to the mind
God set us free from the bondage of our sins
Father rid us of this confusion

Moisés Ramírez “El Poeta de Santa Ana” is an American poet from Santa Ana California. His parents emigrated from Jalisco Mexico in 1964 in search of opportunity and prosperity. Moisés the youngest of eight siblings, discovered his love for poetry at the age of 16. He graduated from Valley High School in 2006 and received a BA in Economics and Political Science from the University of California San Diego in 2011. He then self-published his first book, a collection of poems titled “Wishing on Adriana’s Star” in 2012.

STILL STANDING

By: Belen Prado

This was the year of vision 2020
A year of great expectations
Of upcoming celebrations and found love
We were all happy and looking forward to this time
To take root and blossom in the course of time into a beautiful red rose
But that expected beauty soon decayed and turned gloomy
As we awoke one Sunday to some sad news
Which made us to arose and tune in to our media because we found it so unbelievable to believe
That our beloved basketball star had become an angel in heaven
So we all mourned together as one
soon that grief turned into a harmonious sound
As we relieve all the joyful moments that he shared with us
By making us part of his magnificent journey
Leading us to show our gratitude
by setting up murals and shouting out his name
So we can always remember his great legacy
As we kept the hope alive
for our sorrow to turn into joy
But now the media began to spread news of a fatal spirit among us
A fatal spirit that took us all by surprise
That has darken the whole global world
Now our everyday life routines are placed on hold
We are now subjected of being trapped in a box
We can no longer be without taking cover or be near one another
Days go by and still this fatal spirit is among us
It gains more power
And has made us have fear
A strong fear towards the living
So how did our grief over one single soul
Turned to our grief towards millions of souls
All we can do is to be still and reflect
on how we took the simple things of our every day for granted
We all acted on our own self agenda
Never taking a moment to appreciate our simple kind of life
Now we can only see the beauty of nature in its true essence from afar
So we just sit here; hoping and waiting to partake in our everyday life again
But what do we see now
There is chaos
Many are shouting angrily in the streets
Once again we are subjected to stay inside our little boxes
As we now send our sympathies to another fallen angel
By the hands of a bondage cycle
But at least our anxieties are at ease
As we see and greet our beloved people on a web connection
and conform of worshipping through a box
Now we finally realized that life is a precious thing and what is one life worth
So we raise our eyes up to heaven and say a solemn prayer
For a change to come to all those
who had fallen victim to the status quo of this ill society
For an end to this great pestilence
Because as long as we keep standing
We can be grateful now for our everyday life
With the hope of seeing a new day and a better tomorrow
For faith is the substance of all things to come
We can now thank the one above
That by his love and mercy over us
We have become over comers
That there is still hope for our children to keep on going and growing in all ways
And enjoy their learning in a bigger box; without a bright screen and log on button
For it is written that we are stronger
we can have the courage to fight this fatal spirit
and recover our normalcy of life
because greater is what is within us
no pestilence or cruelty by another
will come against us or put us in a state of fear
So we as we continue to be still
Just know that there is still hope to love and to be grateful
For making it all this way
So rejoice with your beloved people and reunite in your most holiest place
To thank the one above
For his dearest love and mercy upon you
For allowing you to continue to live on because millions didn’t make it
But you were the one who did
because you are Still Standing.

I began writing poetry as a way to bring me self-motivation and to express the things I felt inside me. Writing poetry became an intimate thing. So during this trial of living through a pandemic I began to write this in order to bring some peace to my soul and relieve my inner inspiration of writing poetry.

And finally, a poetic statement from the Santa Ana Literary Association’s founder and chief troublemaker, J. Martin Strangeweather.

Ode to Big Business

By: J. Martin Strangeweather

Are you fine with killing
Your neighbors
Your descendants
Yourself

Death is a joke
To you
Until it’s your turn
To be the punchline

Over 90,000 fathers, mothers, sons and daughters
Die from asbestos-related illnesses each year

The Bayer Corporation knowingly sold
HIV-infected blood transfusion products
Throughout Asia and South America

Dupont in my blood
Monsanto in my genes
Nestlé steals my water
While I counterstrike with memes

We can’t get rid of the mercury
In our oceans
We can’t get rid of the carbon monoxide
In our air
We can’t get rid of the plastic
In our soul

“Just a little poison, what could it hurt?” said every corporation ever.

The entire population of Flint, Michigan
Was exposed to highly toxic amounts of lead
In their tap water
For more than a year

The death toll for the
Union Carbide factory gas leak
Has reached well over 15,000

Smallpox in their blankets
Tuskegee in their veins
Inequality in their workplace
Injustice for their pains

Lynching the past
Enslaving the future
Cutting down family trees
To make room for another shopping mall

We can’t get rid of the Walmarts
In our neighborhoods
We can’t get rid of the Microsoft
In our words
We can’t get rid of the Starbucks
In our soul

“Just a little poison, what could it hurt?” said every consumer ever.

We are Exxon blood and Chevron lungs
Leadened brains and bellyfuls of glyphosate
Slowly dissolving into Fukushima seas
Under Chernobyl skies

Our flesh and bones
Are made of McDonald’s
Polluted with Hollywood hearts
And Maytag minds

“Don’t hate the mirror for your reflection,” said every comedian ever.

Mediatizing us with Circus Maximus 90210 24/7
Grooming us for time travel back to the Dark Ages
Cloned sheep herded and fleeced
By monstrous blasphemies
Of ancient gods

Like skillful politicians
They have ten scripted answers
To every yes or no question
None of which
Are yes or no

They blindfold us
With $100 bills
And pour legalistic glue
In our ears

They bite off our tongue
If we speak out
And use it to wipe themselves clean
Of all responsibility

Oil in their bloodlines
Gold clotting up their brains
The extinction of humanity
For monetary gains

“Don’t hate the mirror for your reflection,” said every prophet ever.

There’s not enough space for everyone
You say
Yet you’re big as a skyscraper

There’s not enough food for everyone
You say
Yet you consume entire forests

There’s not enough clean water for everyone
You say
Yet you drink lakes and rivers dry

There’s not enough air for everyone
You say
Yet you inhale ozone and exhale smog

There’s not enough love for everyone
You say
With your knee pressing down on our neck

J. Martin Strangeweather is a poet, a painter, a teller of tall tales, and the Chief Executive Prognosticator & Oneiric Director of Thaumaturgic Research for the Santa Ana Literary Association. He graduated from UC Irvine’s MFA program in English and Fiction, also earning degrees in Philosophy and Art History. Magister Strangeweather resides in a secretive little art colony somewhere in Southern California, where he teaches ornithologists how to sing the language of the birds.