Sandra Cisneros

Sandra Cisneros Poems


Before you became a cloud, you were an ocean, roiled and
murmuring like a mouth. You were the shadow of a cloud
crossing over a field of tulips. You were the tears of a

Wachale! She's a black lace bra
kind of woman, the kind who serves
up suicide with every kamikaze

December 24th and we're through again.

This time for good I know because I didn't

Mornings I still
reach for you before
opening my eyes.

Because I miss
you I run my hand
along the flat of my thigh

You bring out the Mexican in me.
The hunkered thick dark spiral.
The core of a heart howl.

They say I'm a beast.
And feast on it. When all along
I thought that's what a woman was.

That was enough
for me to forgive you.
To spirit a tiger

I can't imagine that goofy white woman
with you. Her pink skin on your dark.
Your tongue on hers. I can't

We had to cross the street twice
because of rats. But there it was.
The zócalo at night and la Calle de la Moneda

You come from that country
where the bitter is more bitter
and the sweet, sweeter.

He says he likes Mexico.
Especially all that history.
That's what I understand

Arturito, when you were born
the hospital gasped when
they fished you from your fist of sleep,

My cousins and I,
we don't marry.
We're too old

This is my father.
See? He is young.
He looks like Errol Flynn.

Fifty cents apiece
To eat our lunch
We'd run

Your name doesn't matter.
I loved you.
We loved.

Sandra Cisneros Biography

Sandra Cisneros (born December 20, 1954) is an American writer best known for her acclaimed first novel The House on Mango Street (1984) and her subsequent short story collection Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories (1991). Her work experiments with literary forms and investigates emerging subject positions, which Cisneros herself attributes to growing up in a context of cultural hybridity and economic inequality that endowed her with unique stories to tell. She is the recipient of numerous awards including a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, and is regarded as a key figure in Chicana literature. Cisneros's early life provided many experiences she would later draw on as a writer: she grew up as the only daughter in a family of six brothers, which often made her feel isolated, and the constant migration of her family between Mexico and the United States instilled in her the sense of "always straddling two countries ... but not belonging to either culture." Cisneros's work deals with the formation of Chicana identity, exploring the challenges of being caught between Mexican and Anglo-American cultures, facing the misogynist attitudes present in both these cultures, and experiencing poverty. For her insightful social critique and powerful prose style, Cisneros has achieved recognition far beyond Chicano and Latino communities, to the extent that The House on Mango Street has been translated worldwide and is taught in American classrooms as a coming-of-age novel. Cisneros has held a variety of professional positions, working as a teacher, a counselor, a college recruiter, a poet-in-the-schools, and an arts administrator, and has maintained a strong commitment to community and literary causes. In 1998 she established the Macondo Foundation, which provides socially conscious workshops for writers, and in 2000 she founded the Alfredo Cisneros Del Moral Foundation, which awards talented writers connected to Texas. Cisneros currently resides in San Antonio, Texas.)

The Best Poem Of Sandra Cisneros


"If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud
floating in this sheet of paper."—Thich Nhat Hanh

Before you became a cloud, you were an ocean, roiled and
murmuring like a mouth. You were the shadow of a cloud
crossing over a field of tulips. You were the tears of a
man who cried into a plaid handkerchief. You were a sky
without a hat. Your heart puffed and flowered like sheets
drying on a line.

And when you were a tree, you listened to trees and the tree
things trees told you. You were the wind in the wheels of a
red bicycle. You were the spidery Maria tattooed on the
hairless arm of a boy in downtown Houston. You were the
rain rolling off the waxy leaves of a magnolia tree. A lock
of straw-colored hair wedged between the mottled pages of a
Victor Hugo novel. A crescent of soap. A spider the color
of a finger nail. The black nets beneath the sea of olive
trees. A skein of blue wool. A tea saucer wrapped in
newspaper. An empty cracker tin. A bowl of blueberries in
heavy cream. White wine in a green-stemmed glass.

And when you opened your wings to wind, across the
punched-tin sky above a prison courtyard, those condemned to
death and those condemned to life watched how smooth and
sweet a white cloud glides.

San Antonio

Sandra Cisneros Comments

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amos white 07 April 2019

for humanities class i need poems written by sandra cisneros asap

7 9 Reply
Sandra 07 March 2019

hi yall read cloud it is a great poem! ! !

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