The Hummingbird Dance

A couple of months ago, I wrote this poem after feeling frustrated with my experiences on Tinder and OkCupid. Yes, I have tried online dating apps for years; much to my dismay, each time with negative consequences and it has taken me awhile to learn how to love and respect myself first…here’s a poem about one of my most recent online dating experiences, you can find it in the Bards Against Hunger poetry anthology on Amazon, link at the bottom of this post. Namaste!

The Hummingbird Dance by E.R. Buendia

Your summer kissed skin glows in the sunlight

As the faint breeze sweeps the sweat off your brow

Hummingbirds fly touching upon tangerine flowers

As though the nectar is a gift from the heavens

The flutter of the hummingbird’s wings

Sounds as sweet as an evening lullaby

On this perfect summer day, with harmony standing nearby
Waiting to send love darts to promising lovers

With your eyes closed, you imagine these darts beaming upon the birds

And fill your heart with hopes of an epic love story

Hope that was lost in the reckless abandon of heartbreak purgatory

Is this hummingbird a blessing?

Is it a sign of divine love?

Is this your soulmate?

Or, are you drifting into the

abyss of hopeless romanticism?

Tragedies of Keats,

of every Romantic poet,

who hoped the same

Is this a love doomed or

an epic love that would last for lifetimes?

So you hope for a happy ending this time.

Pray for an ideal to come to fruition,

And get drunk on the fragrance of infatuation.

Copyright of: E.R.Buendia

To purchase the anthology click here. All proceeds go to food banks across the nation, help us end homelessness and famine in our country 🙂

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RePOST from Brave and Reckless..You Were Meant to Know the Night

As the moon dances across the lake Fairies fall into slumber Poppies shine brightly against the darkness Lovers begin laughing into the wind As they prepare for their midnight rendezvous The humidity of the summer winds Bring sweat to the brows of children The lonely ones feel melancholy, While filling their hearts with hope And […]

via You Were Meant to Know the Night Writing Prompt Challenge: ER Buendia — Brave and Reckless

Heat Wave

Admittedly, I have been procrastinating on my outline/NaNoWriMo prep this year but I plan to spend some time this weekend and Monday and Tuesday finishing out the scene-by-scene parts of the outline. I plan on using OneNote to keep track of all of the chapters. It seems like the best program that I own for this novel writing project; as, I cannot pay for Scrivener at the moment. In San Diego, there has been a heat wave this week, so here’s a little poem/microfiction of how it makes me feel:

As the heat burns through my flesh
There’s no escape
My nostrils catch fire
As I continue to breathe in the flames
Hoping the flames will ignite my desires
But instead they leave me lethargic
Parched for water
Crawling on the pavement
Reaching out for help
No Escape. Just humidity.
Santa Ana winds hit my hometown
In a fury and leave me with swollen eyes
And sleepless nights
Drenched in sweat
Dreaming of dancing through autumn leaves
Relentlessly bemused by dry air
On this October night

~E.R. Buendia/Celena StarVela

Mabon Poem

The time is here for autumn. The air is getting crisper, leaves are changing colors and the equinox is here. Its time to embrace the darkness. Here’s a poem of light and dark, its connection to Mabon….

Mabon has arrived and with it

People feast on grains and vegetables alike

The darkness starts to rise from the Underworld

Light takes a slumber as dark skies reign

Feel the crisp air against your skin

Let the moon be your guide

It’s okay to become a part of the night 

Chants are heard throughout the land

Harvest arrives with plenty of food

For the bellies of creatures 

Hibernation around the corner

Persephone. Hades. Animal spirits.

They have come to reign.

Light burning a flame within

Divine light guides those lost back to  their lovely abodes 

-E.R. Buendia

Why I Write…


Why did I start writing and why do I write?While developing an 8 week lesson plan for a Creative Writing workshop that I’m starting at my work, I realized that there was a question that I haven’t answered on my blog and now is the time to answer it!

           My story starts when I was eight years old. I went to a Spanish immersion school that offered a lot of opportunity for creative expression; my creativity was encouraged from a young age. I am grateful that my parents put me in the schools they did so that I could connect with my inner artist and discover my talent. The first piece I wrote was a poem and it was part of a project that we were supposed to do in class to create a mother’s day card for our mothers. I wrote a poem about the colors that my mom wore, specifically her red lipstick, and my mom kept it after I gave it to her and still has it today!

           I always felt out of place with my peers and writing became an escape for me besides reading, it was therapeutic and it was a way for me to connect with my imagination. Some people had imaginative friends, I had my own imagination and creative pursuits. As I got older and continued to enjoy the creative projects that my teachers would assign us, my mom ended up creating a space in the garage where she would post all the art projects on this wall by where we kept our shoes. I cherish that memory as a muse for me to continue to create works of art whether it’s  writing, painting, photography, doodling, dancing, any form of expression.

           When middle school came and I had this inspiring Spanish language teacher, I continued to write. At this point, I was blogging and I had created different websites that I would use to post short stories, poetry, and, journal. Each morning during the week, we would be asked to free write for the first 10 minutes or so of class. And every Friday, my teacher would pick a winner for best writer of the class. I won on a consistent basis and I used this as motivation to continue writing.

           When I got to high school, I was diagnosed with depression at the age of sixteen years old and I started to see an art therapist for a little while. Once again, writing became a form of healing for me. In high school, I continued to keep a poetry journal and would sometimes write short stories. I had a LiveJournal that I would share my work on or I would just vent on there sometimes. In 11th grade, when my depression was getting worse, I decided to submit my poetry to a national contest and I won one of the prizes. I just needed a teacher to sign a recommendation for me but I never followed through. I no longer believed in my talent and my creative spirit started to fade away.

           In my junior year of high school, I wrote half of a romance novel but after my computer crashed and I lost the draft, I gave up on writing altogether and the next few years were filled with different experiences that are now inspiration for me to write. I have always used writing as a medium for healing and expression. At times when I felt like I did not have a voice, I found that voice through poetry or through the characters of the stories that I was telling. I always felt like I could relate to characters that faced oppression, discrimination, or, some kind of bullying. And as an avid reader, it has just added more fuel to my passion for writing.

           At a creative workshop I attended with Juliette Sobanet, she asked us to think about why we wanted to tell our story, the novels or stories we are working on. I guess the true reason is to inspire others and maybe they will be able to find strength with my characters as they read along. The message I want to convey in the novels I write is for young teenage girls all over, to not give up on yourself and to embrace your weirdness…it’s okay to be unique. It’s okay to be creative and pursue your artistic dreams. Everyone goes through some type of darkness, and although some stay, there are others who fight to reach the light. I write to help, heal, and, to inspire. 

The Night, a poem

She becomes the night

As she levitates to the tops of the trees

Divine winds cocoon her flesh


Rocking her through the evergreen


As she continues to float


She becomes a part of the night


Passing the stars


Whispering to the moon


Sweet chants of Hecate, triple goddess


Bewitched by the howls of wolves


She is home

-ER BUENDIA