My Father Was An Athlete

Writer’s Note: this poem was originally published in the August 2021 ‘Family’ issue of PopShot magazine. My Father Was An Athlete He ran out of the maternity ward so fast,that he got to the finish line beforeI even opened my eyes for the first time. And every man that came after himTreat us like it… Continue reading My Father Was An Athlete

Dear Ma

Dear Ma You once wrote of me that I am like a chair not a comfortable one but strong and supportive. Today I write to you to say that you are the table at which we dine at every night. Your thick oak limbs have held more difficult decisions than traditional cuisine and your back… Continue reading Dear Ma

Star of Hope (1883)

Star of Hope (1883) One hour and forty-five minutes is howlong it took to walk to the mouth of thebeast that swallowed you, and back. Along the way is where I found you. Inthe distance you looked like a group of peoplecrouching, a consortium of people. I thought maybe fishermen, or women,which reminded me of… Continue reading Star of Hope (1883)

The Flea Market

The Flea Market by: Romina Ramos Originally published in The Bolton Review Issue 9: Rats & Revelry This town is haunted by stained glass godsand crawling with slithering saints, but on the third Sunday of every monththe flea market comes. On this day it is permitted to skip Morning Mass,on this Sunday there is a… Continue reading The Flea Market

Soundless Fights In The Middle Of The Night

You say: say what you have to say! But those words echo in my mind because you are not ready for the deafening tone of the words that are spilling out of my eyes and you do not understand what I mean by your eyes make me want to skinny dip in the ocean and… Continue reading Soundless Fights In The Middle Of The Night

Dentro da Minha Caixa de Recordações

Side note: Today is International Grandparents Day. A while ago, before my granddad died, actually, I started writing this poem for him. Today I translated it into Portuguese and although this is a first draft, I’m proud of it and wanted to add it to my portfolio. I understand a lot of people won’t be… Continue reading Dentro da Minha Caixa de Recordações

Changing Seasons

Changing Seasons In a city where every day is a miserable December evening she makes me feel like July.She does to me what summer does to trees dresses my branches in life and colour, andholds my proud roots firmly into the ground. She’s the hot chocolate to my crisp autumn morning, our fingers entwined inside… Continue reading Changing Seasons