Old Spanish Days Honors Six Writers Who Won the First Poetry Contest

El Pueblito de Santa Barbara is my home. 
Home to eyes that spy Santa Cruz Island
across the calm grey blue ocean, 
slick, like the dolphins that live here, too. 

El pueblito de Santa Barbara tiene mi corazón. 
It has my heart, 
where the two chambers 
of my heritage meet. 

Here, my father’s great-grandparents
came from Sweden,
in a time when a border
was only something boats crossed over. 

Here, my mother’s parents 
came from Mexico
in a time when a border 
was only something trains crossed over

Here, in our lindo pueblito, is where my Latina flame
and my Scandinavian "hygge"
hug themselves in a riviera 
of bougainvillea and sturdy oaks.

Where the "Queen of the Missions bells
ring-out over a rose garden splattered with colors, 
like a painter's palette.
Where the desert wind and marine later meet.

Like the origins of California itself,
Santa Barbara's birth, and mine,
a little Spanish, a little Mexican
and a little pioneer.

El pueblito de Santa Barbara needs no introduction, 
but a little party will do.
A Fiesta! An expression of love
with trumpets, flamenco, Noches de Ronda, and fun.

A tradition of goodwill 
to honor the cooks, priests
and gauchos that came before us. 
A tradition where even the horses come out to play! 

Let's have a night (or two, or three) to celebrate
our home, our community, together.
Where my two halves meet, where we all greet each other
with a smattering of eggshell and confetti in our hair. 

Jacaranda,
and the dawn wrinkling
Conceal
These smiles unfolding 

Violent and 
Lilac

Nearer to me now

Dancers
Shakers
Blow

Bow
Into the art
Bygone

Come on shakers
Come on Spirit

Be scarlet
Be blood
Effervescent

As I walked down the street, I could feel the beat:
the music, the cheers, the beers clinking together. I see the confetti
filling the air as I see people dance it in the street. I see people
crack an egg on their friends heads as I see the confetti 
blend into their hair. I see dancers light on their feet 
like a feather as the weather settles in. 

A sunny day with joy, music, and celebration. I see the sun’s 
glimmer shine on the sparkly, shiny, dancer’s clothes. 
I see shops and stands and shops with confetti eggs 
for miles and miles. I see a person with a cape, he twirls the cape
around in an amazing motion but he looks grim because of
dancing in the heat. As I near the end of the parade
I stayed to see the parade a little bit longer. 

With the sun beating down on the dancers the dancers kept on 
dancing until the end. I saw a friend and he said hi. He said that 
his head was hurting with all the confetti eggs cracked on
his head, so I said bye. When the Parade was over people were sad, 
but even though this Fiesta was over, there will still be more to 
come, with more exciting music and dancing each time. 

Fiesta, what a glorious place to be,
A celebration of traditions for all to see.

As a fourth generation Santa Barbarian, our traditions
are really special to me.

Flamenco dresses shine so bright,
As dancers stomp with all their might.

My tradition started at age five, 
Performing flamenco in the Sunken Gardens 
made me feel so alive.

The parades bring people together
As they watch the performers go by. 

Confetti eggs fill the streets,
Along with music, laughter, and treats.

Celebrating all day leads to hungry bellies at night,
With pozole, tamales, and corn cooked just right.

After five days of fun with new friends and old,
We hold on to the memories as we wait 
With excitement for the next Fiesta to unfold. 

Blue was born on a bright sunny day in the
Santa Barbara Mountains.

Its clothes are made from a bright 
colorful dancing dress.

Her dream is to be on stage with her bright
colorful dress singing and dancing 
on the day of Fiesta.

And every one cheering and clapping

Blue takes dance classes for this 
big moment to come.

And believes that this moment will finally come.

And it did. 

Blue was happy and I was too.