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This semester has been a journey of both growth and reflection, as I’ve worked to shape my voice and vision in the context of poetry that speaks for and with the people. The poems in my portfolio serve as a map of my evolving relationship with the world around me—offering both intimate glimpses of personal experience and communal calls to action. At the heart of it all is the desire to connect: to reach beyond individual experience and touch the collective soul, to craft words that resonate with the lived realities, dreams, and struggles of everyday people. I especially was surprised by my ability to grow in Poetry writing and understanding the deeper meaning behind it. I love that I got to share a space with individuals who were artists in every special way and it motivated me to evolve and I notice how my writing changed from "I come from" on till the end of the semester.

I selected Malaya's poem of the week share because I admire the fact that she stands by equality for Filipinos in and outside San Francisco. I love the commitment and the dedication and this poem she had reflected, "I love this poem because it shows how academics can be a starting point for peoples revolution and how it will be continued in the countryside!"

What inspired you?

Taking the Poetry of the People class was a truly transformative experience, and what inspired me the most wasn’t necessarily the course content or even the assignments, but the students and the sense of community we built together. From the first class, I could feel a warmth and openness in the room that made me want to show up, to write, and to share. It wasn’t just the poetry that inspired me—it was the people.

What are you most proud of?

I am most proud of my growth in this class. I started off thinking I wasn't a poet to OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THAT? And the honest reactions from everyone in the room makes me so happy and proud of anything I write even if I feel it wasn't that good.

What was challenging?

What was challenging for me is keeping up with all the coursework but thanks to the flexibility of our awesome instructor Tehmina, we were able to make up for a lot of our missed work and assignments! Truly a blessing & I am super appreciative of that.

What’s your next step in your journey as a poet for the people?

My next step is actually taking poetry to the next level and write a lot of original work to help build my confidence in my creativity.

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I come from God,
whose Son gave His life on the cross for our salvation.
I come from parents who worked with their hands,
on an island where rent was never a concern.
I come from my father's fields,
and my mother's home-cooked meals.
I come from the shores and waterfalls
of my small village, Aua, in American Samoa.
I come from the heritage and traditions
of my Samoan ancestors.
I come from the tribal tattoos,
the dances, and the music of the Pacific.
I come from the streets of San Francisco,
where blunts and joints were once my escape.
I come from my love of pens
and the countless journals that fill my room.
I come from my passion for Nature,
and the thrill of travel.
I come from Spotify,
for I cannot live without music.
I come from the United States Navy,
and now my service sustains me in a studio apartment in SoMa.
I come from LOVE,
a love for God, family, friends, and those around me.

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Speaking the Unspeakable and Truth to Power

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Speaking the Unspeakable and Truth to Power

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Speaking the Unspeakable and Truth to Power

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A Samoan Veteran of the U.S. Navy Reflects on the Election

Who am I if my voice is silenced?
I cannot even vote…
Yet, I served this nation.
Yes, I am a veteran, part of the world’s greatest navy,
But still, my voice is not heard in the ballot box.
Politics was never my focus,
But now I see how vital it is to have a say.
Trump as president once more?
God bless America,
That’s all I can say.

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The Poetry of the People course,

a gathering of hearts, where every soul, with gentle force, crafted worlds with arts.

Each poem was a mirror bright, reflecting truth untold, with rhythms soft or fierce in flight, and stories rich with gold.

How beautiful the ways we speak, in lines that break or flow, each poet unique, yet all we seek is room to let it grow.

It was a joy to meet you all, to hear your voices true— I carry with me, through rise and fall, the poems made by you.

May this spark, like fire, spread and light the paths ahead, for in each line, our hearts are led, more creative, more widespread.

Grateful for the words you shared, for honesty, for grace, and in your poetry, I’ve dared to find my own embrace.

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I celebrate the person I’ve become,

A journey of strength, a soul that’s won.

Through every trial, I’ve found my way,

Embracing each dawn, no matter the day.

I love the woman I see in the mirror,

With every scar, her path grows clearer.

The years have taught me how to stand tall,

In my own arms, I’ve found it all.

The fears I’ve faced, the dreams I’ve chased,

They’ve shaped my heart, they’ve set my pace.

I’ve learned to honor my quiet grace,

And hold my power in my own space.

No longer bound by doubt or shame,

I trust my voice, I trust my name.

I am enough, I’ve always been,

A work of art, both soft and fierce within.

I celebrate the love I’ve grown to feel,

For every flaw, for every heal.

The person I am, the person I’ll be,

A reflection of strength, love, and dignity.

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I release control, fear, and attachments.

I release saying yes to things that don't deserve me.

I release caring about what other people think of me.

I release those who don't value my time.

I release feelings of neglect, ignorance, and hatred.

I release all toxic relationships including friendships.

I release all negative energy from my mind, body, and soul.

I am drained,

I am exhausted,

and I am stressed.

But, I am also Hopeful,

I am Optimistic,

I am full of Life,

and I am loved.

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By MA. LORENA BARROS

Seventy-seven demands

Some trifting, some

deep and huge.

But all inarticulate:

the glottals of the dumb

Somewhere back

we had forgotten speech

the correspondence of

sense of utterance. Now

wordless

sightless

numb

we march back and forth

mouths working.

We know that the evil is great

but cannot begin to speak it.

“Two picketeers climbed up the

monument of the Tao and veiled

it with black cloth to symbolize

the death of academic freedom

In the campus.”

Our stillborn gods

we bury with dumb gestures.

Oh we are unable to speak it!

We cannot begin to speak it.

Smashed glass

grief

a drop of blood on the asphalt

two drops

ten

the red seeps through

our blindness.

We have cast

the first rock.