Greetings, my name is Sonia Lopez and I am a senior attending Syracuse University. I am majoring in Psychology and Sociology, and I plan on becoming a teacher, where I can hopefully start up a school-wide poetry club. I was born and raised in Houston, Texas where I live with my rescue dog Reefer. I really enjoy sleeping in and breakfast foods. I find a lot of my inspiration comes from direct observations of others and myself. I like to tie in many of my personal experiences with facts and theories I learned in my biology, psychology, and even my sociology classes. I do this because I consider them different ways of explaining the emotional and intimate phenomena we experience daily. I really do believe pain is a part of beauty and joy. I like to tap into all different types of hurt when I write. Pain is a bridge that connects the body and mind, and my poems are an attempt to realize that union. My favorite types of poems use the implicit instants within situations that are usually ignored and are created visceral with frank and honest language. I love the complex human, the complicated emotion, or difficult thought.

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 You are not a holy man.

You are a man of science,

Who mends me, and tends to me organically,

With the only means you know how.

With your hands, with your mouth.


At daybreak I rise,

Limbs tangled around your creature contours

Because I’m solar-powered, green, and deprived.

My body bends towards you even when we are apart, 

Because I cannot function 

Without the salt that falls from your brow

When you are over me, under me, inside me. 


At night, when I am sick with wanting,

I hear you car keys finally hit the nightstand

And your easy breath

As you curl your forgiving body around mine, 

Methodically coaxing the warmth back into my thighs. 


Photosynthesis is clever, 

Leaving no room for 

Unnecessary expenditures of energy.

Everything you are to me is vital.


I really liked the idea that plants always lean towards the sun. It reminded me about relationships, when someone is like the sun to you they become a necessary presence to your growth. I like the idea of your lover tending to you as one does to flowers. Relationships are natural and follow the same natural laws that plants do.



 Ohms are electrical units of resistance.

And what I could gleam from 

Science, which favored collisions 

Between the electrons and ions tearing apart into heat

Between our pressed bodies

As we supped at each others mouths,

There was none in existence in our universe.


The very same centripetal force that kept me on rollercoasters when I was a child,

Keeps me tugged towards the curved paths of your most dark and sweet parts.

I could barely keep up with the violent velvet velocity of your body

As you resurrected me,

Pouring white-hot currents through my bodily axis,

Proving and praising the circuit theory

Of my female anatomy.


Nothing I learned in school could have prepared me

For the ohms I negated and the moans in me that you created.


 Studying for an exam I came upon electric currents and the physics of energy. When I wrote this I was just beginning to understand the type of attraction I had for someone I had known for about a year or so. Even though I told myself I was only interested in something very casual, I found myself drawn to that person so much I felt I was being pulled by something more than just physical attraction.



 We are born endowed with 300 bones

However, as adults we contain only 206.


Gravity methodically compresses and fuses

Our bones together over time,

Crushing us smaller and lower to the ground.


Taking up less space in houses and on sidewalks,  

We are bent and curved tenderly,

So to slip easily out of the minds of those we love 

When the time comes.


Unsuspectingly, our entire anatomy yields

To the universe’s humbling design,

Carving us into noiseless husks as we produce

One final exhale of corporeal cosmic submission.


I wrote this at the end of my junior year in college, and I had just completed many classes centered on death and social control. I had felt a bit overwhelmed with the reality of being controlled by many ideologies and customs in our current society as well as being subject to natures inevitable rhythms and patterns of aging and dying. I wrote this poem in an attempt to take some control over that process.


 Dry Eyes

 Its 11pm when I lay down beside you, 

A corpse, craving heat and friction,

Trying to silence the anxious rustle of my brown hair 

As it spills over your sleeping face.

Its 2am now, and I wonder if the bones in you’re skull 

And liquid drums in you’re ears

Can capture, 

Timid tremors 


Out of my sinking chest 

As I lean in for a tired kiss in postmortem.

Its 4am and you turn you’re body away from mine

And I wonder if you can hear

My dry eyes slide under my lids

Searching for ways to fold you closer,

To wrap you nearer and wake up dearer to you.


 I was very intrigued by how much I kept a lot thoughts secret to even myself. They were the usual anxieties and doubts that I ruminated on in the dark while my lover slept with no idea of how irrational I was. I was struggling with an ever-growing attachment that was developing between my lover and me. I wasn’t prepared for the transition from being individually self-sufficient to sharing emotions on some new type of intimate wavelength. I was very prideful and therefore wrote this poem to be able to honestly reflect my thoughts I would never mention to him. 


I’ve Had Enough

Of postponing plans, and praises.

I’ve had enough of getting by.

I’ve had enough of sounding soft and silent.

Enough of compromise.

Enough of politeness,

Of sweetness and virtue,

Of pleasing, and patience.

I’ve had enough of

Calming down and shutting up.

I’ve had enough of favors, and the Martyrdom, 

And the Third eye.

I’ve had enough of being last,

Enough of Karma, and The Way.

I’ve had enough of approval, and appreciation,

Of always planning, and always agreeing, and always paying for it.

I’ve had enough of being fine and being ok.

I’ve had enough of staying put and staying down.

 I’m not fine with the way things are.

And that’s ok.


I was angry when I wrote this poem. I have taught myself when I get mad I should turn that anger into something productive and concrete that I can then put away when I’m ready to move on. I had felt I was spread so thin between all the people I tried to please and all the achievements I thought I was expected to achieve that I finally snapped. It took some time for me to understand the difference between being good in others eyes and being good in my eyes. From them on I have now looked to myself for approval and have taken better care of my needs before anyone else’s.



 Your body does wonderful things with scents.

It digs them deeper and makes them sweeter, 

Draping them over your neck and bare back, 

Decorating your hair, and wrists,

Drawing my body nearer 

To the yawning musky perfumes

That loving you creates.


I don’t recognize anything that isn’t wet with your fragrance.

Every exhale and infatuated kiss we crush 

And press against each other during sex

Carves out fresh imprints of you in my mind.


I’ll smell you suddenly at work, 

And savor your orgasms hugging my shirt and fingertips.

On the drive home I’ll sob at how divine 

All physical manifestations of adoration can be. 


Smells are the passageway to memories, and I hold many scents dear to me because of the instant journey they take me on when I smell them. In particular the personal perfume every person has depends on their own body’s reaction to soap, sweat, and natural pheromones that produce an intimate cocktail precise to each person. A lover’s scent on their clothes or pillows are one of my favorite things. They are the most private thing about a person.


I don’t have a personal website for poetry but I do have Tumblr blog that I post random poems I do throughout the week. Its my personal blog though, so there is also a bunch of pictures of dogs, art, and graphic art. Here is the link to my personal blog :

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October 12, 2013