Oswald Perez
@opwriter.bsky.social
I’m a writer, poet and photographer from NYC. I have cerebral palsy, but I don’t let it stop me from living life.
A flashback to last year, as the sun sets on July 4th.
I made an impromptu decision to take a cruise around New York Harbor with the Circle Line.
Touristy, yes. Awe-inspiring too.
It's never a cliche to see Lady Liberty in her silhouetted splendor. After all, she welcomes all who pass by.
I made an impromptu decision to take a cruise around New York Harbor with the Circle Line.
Touristy, yes. Awe-inspiring too.
It's never a cliche to see Lady Liberty in her silhouetted splendor. After all, she welcomes all who pass by.
July 4, 2025 at 11:22 PM
A flashback to last year, as the sun sets on July 4th.
I made an impromptu decision to take a cruise around New York Harbor with the Circle Line.
Touristy, yes. Awe-inspiring too.
It's never a cliche to see Lady Liberty in her silhouetted splendor. After all, she welcomes all who pass by.
I made an impromptu decision to take a cruise around New York Harbor with the Circle Line.
Touristy, yes. Awe-inspiring too.
It's never a cliche to see Lady Liberty in her silhouetted splendor. After all, she welcomes all who pass by.
Welcome to July!
A Happy Canada Day to our friends up north.
It feels like a century, the last six months that have passed with so much turmoil at home and around the world.
But as with every first day of a new month, all the possibilities exist. Thirty-one days are ahead of us.
A Happy Canada Day to our friends up north.
It feels like a century, the last six months that have passed with so much turmoil at home and around the world.
But as with every first day of a new month, all the possibilities exist. Thirty-one days are ahead of us.
July 1, 2025 at 9:14 AM
Welcome to July!
A Happy Canada Day to our friends up north.
It feels like a century, the last six months that have passed with so much turmoil at home and around the world.
But as with every first day of a new month, all the possibilities exist. Thirty-one days are ahead of us.
A Happy Canada Day to our friends up north.
It feels like a century, the last six months that have passed with so much turmoil at home and around the world.
But as with every first day of a new month, all the possibilities exist. Thirty-one days are ahead of us.
The 20th of June.
In the Northern Hemisphere, it's the longest day of the year. In the Southern Hemisphere, it is the shortest day of the year.
It's only fair that the new season be welcomed in. Though the exact moment of the solstice isn't until 10:42 PM tonight.
Ninety-four days are ahead.
In the Northern Hemisphere, it's the longest day of the year. In the Southern Hemisphere, it is the shortest day of the year.
It's only fair that the new season be welcomed in. Though the exact moment of the solstice isn't until 10:42 PM tonight.
Ninety-four days are ahead.
June 20, 2025 at 11:06 PM
The 20th of June.
In the Northern Hemisphere, it's the longest day of the year. In the Southern Hemisphere, it is the shortest day of the year.
It's only fair that the new season be welcomed in. Though the exact moment of the solstice isn't until 10:42 PM tonight.
Ninety-four days are ahead.
In the Northern Hemisphere, it's the longest day of the year. In the Southern Hemisphere, it is the shortest day of the year.
It's only fair that the new season be welcomed in. Though the exact moment of the solstice isn't until 10:42 PM tonight.
Ninety-four days are ahead.
A Happy Father's Day to all the dads in the world!
As the third Sunday in June arrives, at the midway point of the month.
A little extra love to everyone who has difficulty celebrating this day. With a toast to the departed memories of the fatherly figures who are no longer with us.
As the third Sunday in June arrives, at the midway point of the month.
A little extra love to everyone who has difficulty celebrating this day. With a toast to the departed memories of the fatherly figures who are no longer with us.
June 15, 2025 at 9:44 AM
A Happy Father's Day to all the dads in the world!
As the third Sunday in June arrives, at the midway point of the month.
A little extra love to everyone who has difficulty celebrating this day. With a toast to the departed memories of the fatherly figures who are no longer with us.
As the third Sunday in June arrives, at the midway point of the month.
A little extra love to everyone who has difficulty celebrating this day. With a toast to the departed memories of the fatherly figures who are no longer with us.
A moment to pay my respects to Brian Wilson.
Pet Sounds is one of my holy trinity for the greatest album of all time. But stopping there doesn’t do him enough justice.
As I listened through The Beach Boys “Sounds of Summer” compilation, his musical gifts are on full display.
Rest easy, Brian.
Pet Sounds is one of my holy trinity for the greatest album of all time. But stopping there doesn’t do him enough justice.
As I listened through The Beach Boys “Sounds of Summer” compilation, his musical gifts are on full display.
Rest easy, Brian.
June 12, 2025 at 8:27 AM
A moment to pay my respects to Brian Wilson.
Pet Sounds is one of my holy trinity for the greatest album of all time. But stopping there doesn’t do him enough justice.
As I listened through The Beach Boys “Sounds of Summer” compilation, his musical gifts are on full display.
Rest easy, Brian.
Pet Sounds is one of my holy trinity for the greatest album of all time. But stopping there doesn’t do him enough justice.
As I listened through The Beach Boys “Sounds of Summer” compilation, his musical gifts are on full display.
Rest easy, Brian.
Today’s the Dia de Portugal.
It’s also the day in 1580 where the national poet, Luis de Camões passed.
This is his tomb, located inside Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery.
On the other side of the room, lies the tomb of the explorer Vasco da Gama.
The seafaring immortalized in Os Lusíadas.
It’s also the day in 1580 where the national poet, Luis de Camões passed.
This is his tomb, located inside Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery.
On the other side of the room, lies the tomb of the explorer Vasco da Gama.
The seafaring immortalized in Os Lusíadas.
June 10, 2025 at 8:54 AM
Today’s the Dia de Portugal.
It’s also the day in 1580 where the national poet, Luis de Camões passed.
This is his tomb, located inside Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery.
On the other side of the room, lies the tomb of the explorer Vasco da Gama.
The seafaring immortalized in Os Lusíadas.
It’s also the day in 1580 where the national poet, Luis de Camões passed.
This is his tomb, located inside Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery.
On the other side of the room, lies the tomb of the explorer Vasco da Gama.
The seafaring immortalized in Os Lusíadas.
An unlikely rallying cry.
With nods to fellow poets D.E. Frietzke and Prudence Brooks.
As their words merged into a poem.
After feeling some heavy emotions, I came across a moment of inspiration.
Writing tends to be the one constant in my life, when I run from everything else.
With nods to fellow poets D.E. Frietzke and Prudence Brooks.
As their words merged into a poem.
After feeling some heavy emotions, I came across a moment of inspiration.
Writing tends to be the one constant in my life, when I run from everything else.
June 9, 2025 at 8:32 AM
An unlikely rallying cry.
With nods to fellow poets D.E. Frietzke and Prudence Brooks.
As their words merged into a poem.
After feeling some heavy emotions, I came across a moment of inspiration.
Writing tends to be the one constant in my life, when I run from everything else.
With nods to fellow poets D.E. Frietzke and Prudence Brooks.
As their words merged into a poem.
After feeling some heavy emotions, I came across a moment of inspiration.
Writing tends to be the one constant in my life, when I run from everything else.
On the anniversary of D-Day, my most poignant travel moment.
At the American Cemetery in Normandy in 2019.
Our group heard “Taps” playing in the background. Everyone stood at attention in silence.
Looking out to the beaches in the pouring rain.
I was there, the beaches of Allied landing.
At the American Cemetery in Normandy in 2019.
Our group heard “Taps” playing in the background. Everyone stood at attention in silence.
Looking out to the beaches in the pouring rain.
I was there, the beaches of Allied landing.
June 6, 2025 at 8:35 AM
On the anniversary of D-Day, my most poignant travel moment.
At the American Cemetery in Normandy in 2019.
Our group heard “Taps” playing in the background. Everyone stood at attention in silence.
Looking out to the beaches in the pouring rain.
I was there, the beaches of Allied landing.
At the American Cemetery in Normandy in 2019.
Our group heard “Taps” playing in the background. Everyone stood at attention in silence.
Looking out to the beaches in the pouring rain.
I was there, the beaches of Allied landing.
A welcome to June, in verse.
The sixth month of 2025. Time is just flying by at this point.
After a whirlwind May, June begins on a blank slate. With thirty new days ahead, anything is possible. With the first half of the year rapidly coming to a close.
Let's see where this month ends up.
The sixth month of 2025. Time is just flying by at this point.
After a whirlwind May, June begins on a blank slate. With thirty new days ahead, anything is possible. With the first half of the year rapidly coming to a close.
Let's see where this month ends up.
June 1, 2025 at 10:23 PM
A welcome to June, in verse.
The sixth month of 2025. Time is just flying by at this point.
After a whirlwind May, June begins on a blank slate. With thirty new days ahead, anything is possible. With the first half of the year rapidly coming to a close.
Let's see where this month ends up.
The sixth month of 2025. Time is just flying by at this point.
After a whirlwind May, June begins on a blank slate. With thirty new days ahead, anything is possible. With the first half of the year rapidly coming to a close.
Let's see where this month ends up.
A moment where two genres meet.
As they did during the April social at Cucala Dance Company. The mixing of salsa and tango led to this poem’s creation.
It was a call to my invisible muse. Though, she’s unseen in this case.
A recurring dream that I’ve had since 2022. One dance, then we sever.
As they did during the April social at Cucala Dance Company. The mixing of salsa and tango led to this poem’s creation.
It was a call to my invisible muse. Though, she’s unseen in this case.
A recurring dream that I’ve had since 2022. One dance, then we sever.
May 27, 2025 at 7:49 AM
A moment where two genres meet.
As they did during the April social at Cucala Dance Company. The mixing of salsa and tango led to this poem’s creation.
It was a call to my invisible muse. Though, she’s unseen in this case.
A recurring dream that I’ve had since 2022. One dance, then we sever.
As they did during the April social at Cucala Dance Company. The mixing of salsa and tango led to this poem’s creation.
It was a call to my invisible muse. Though, she’s unseen in this case.
A recurring dream that I’ve had since 2022. One dance, then we sever.
At the end of a long week.
I went to see Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca in their latest production, “The Sleep of Reason”.
With a nod to the artist Francisco Goya. Every move, clap, stomp and song brought him to life.
Lest I forget the mercurial Ms. Barrio. Her presence commands attention.
I went to see Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca in their latest production, “The Sleep of Reason”.
With a nod to the artist Francisco Goya. Every move, clap, stomp and song brought him to life.
Lest I forget the mercurial Ms. Barrio. Her presence commands attention.
May 24, 2025 at 2:13 AM
At the end of a long week.
I went to see Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca in their latest production, “The Sleep of Reason”.
With a nod to the artist Francisco Goya. Every move, clap, stomp and song brought him to life.
Lest I forget the mercurial Ms. Barrio. Her presence commands attention.
I went to see Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca in their latest production, “The Sleep of Reason”.
With a nod to the artist Francisco Goya. Every move, clap, stomp and song brought him to life.
Lest I forget the mercurial Ms. Barrio. Her presence commands attention.
The inner monologue, in verse.
As I wrote to the poet Lois Rose Sterling’s prompt where two voices are arguing with each other.
I’m getting called out for bring anti social. By me.
As one does when they’re by themselves. Far away from everyone else and the noise.
It’s an eternal mystery.
As I wrote to the poet Lois Rose Sterling’s prompt where two voices are arguing with each other.
I’m getting called out for bring anti social. By me.
As one does when they’re by themselves. Far away from everyone else and the noise.
It’s an eternal mystery.
May 19, 2025 at 8:19 AM
The inner monologue, in verse.
As I wrote to the poet Lois Rose Sterling’s prompt where two voices are arguing with each other.
I’m getting called out for bring anti social. By me.
As one does when they’re by themselves. Far away from everyone else and the noise.
It’s an eternal mystery.
As I wrote to the poet Lois Rose Sterling’s prompt where two voices are arguing with each other.
I’m getting called out for bring anti social. By me.
As one does when they’re by themselves. Far away from everyone else and the noise.
It’s an eternal mystery.
A flashback to earlier this year.
I wrote this poem during my time in the writing group, Gather.
With the prompt:
The wind carries stories the mouth ought to send.
It took me back to a happy place, Croatia.
Bringing up the memories of a specific person from last year’s trip.
I wrote this poem during my time in the writing group, Gather.
With the prompt:
The wind carries stories the mouth ought to send.
It took me back to a happy place, Croatia.
Bringing up the memories of a specific person from last year’s trip.
May 16, 2025 at 8:17 AM
A flashback to earlier this year.
I wrote this poem during my time in the writing group, Gather.
With the prompt:
The wind carries stories the mouth ought to send.
It took me back to a happy place, Croatia.
Bringing up the memories of a specific person from last year’s trip.
I wrote this poem during my time in the writing group, Gather.
With the prompt:
The wind carries stories the mouth ought to send.
It took me back to a happy place, Croatia.
Bringing up the memories of a specific person from last year’s trip.
A moment to introduce myself.
This poem is based off the prompt from the poetess, Eo Sivia.
After the chaos of NaPoWriMo and a saddened week this week, it felt right for a reset.
I’m a poet from Queens, New York. I write from the heart.
Nearly everything can become poetry given time.
This poem is based off the prompt from the poetess, Eo Sivia.
After the chaos of NaPoWriMo and a saddened week this week, it felt right for a reset.
I’m a poet from Queens, New York. I write from the heart.
Nearly everything can become poetry given time.
May 15, 2025 at 8:20 AM
A moment to introduce myself.
This poem is based off the prompt from the poetess, Eo Sivia.
After the chaos of NaPoWriMo and a saddened week this week, it felt right for a reset.
I’m a poet from Queens, New York. I write from the heart.
Nearly everything can become poetry given time.
This poem is based off the prompt from the poetess, Eo Sivia.
After the chaos of NaPoWriMo and a saddened week this week, it felt right for a reset.
I’m a poet from Queens, New York. I write from the heart.
Nearly everything can become poetry given time.
This poem is in tribute to Karen Levy.
She was my English teacher in high school. As a senior, she was the first person to discover my poetic gift.
It would be years later that I would eventually catch on.
She was a kind, sweet person. At LICHS for the semester, yet she left her mark on me.
She was my English teacher in high school. As a senior, she was the first person to discover my poetic gift.
It would be years later that I would eventually catch on.
She was a kind, sweet person. At LICHS for the semester, yet she left her mark on me.
May 13, 2025 at 8:50 AM
This poem is in tribute to Karen Levy.
She was my English teacher in high school. As a senior, she was the first person to discover my poetic gift.
It would be years later that I would eventually catch on.
She was a kind, sweet person. At LICHS for the semester, yet she left her mark on me.
She was my English teacher in high school. As a senior, she was the first person to discover my poetic gift.
It would be years later that I would eventually catch on.
She was a kind, sweet person. At LICHS for the semester, yet she left her mark on me.
A moment to celebrate all the mothers and motherly figures.
On this, the second Sunday in May.
With all the love and grace to those that find this day difficult to celebrate. And a toast to the departed motherly figures.
I want to wish all of you and to my mom, A Happy Mother's Day!
On this, the second Sunday in May.
With all the love and grace to those that find this day difficult to celebrate. And a toast to the departed motherly figures.
I want to wish all of you and to my mom, A Happy Mother's Day!
May 11, 2025 at 12:39 PM
A moment to celebrate all the mothers and motherly figures.
On this, the second Sunday in May.
With all the love and grace to those that find this day difficult to celebrate. And a toast to the departed motherly figures.
I want to wish all of you and to my mom, A Happy Mother's Day!
On this, the second Sunday in May.
With all the love and grace to those that find this day difficult to celebrate. And a toast to the departed motherly figures.
I want to wish all of you and to my mom, A Happy Mother's Day!
This poem is based on the prompt by the poet, Karen Richards.
Without poetry, who am I? That’s the question I try to answer.
I’d be lost without the words that I write. As they act as my voice due to my speech impediment.
It’s how I share myself with the world at large.
Without poetry, who am I? That’s the question I try to answer.
I’d be lost without the words that I write. As they act as my voice due to my speech impediment.
It’s how I share myself with the world at large.
May 2, 2025 at 10:10 AM
This poem is based on the prompt by the poet, Karen Richards.
Without poetry, who am I? That’s the question I try to answer.
I’d be lost without the words that I write. As they act as my voice due to my speech impediment.
It’s how I share myself with the world at large.
Without poetry, who am I? That’s the question I try to answer.
I’d be lost without the words that I write. As they act as my voice due to my speech impediment.
It’s how I share myself with the world at large.
A welcome to the month of May.
After the year started so slowly, time has gathered speed. Five months into the year.
It’s a month to celebrate mothers and honor those that gave their lives for the country.
After a busy April, May begins with a blank slate.
Thirty one new days have arrived.
After the year started so slowly, time has gathered speed. Five months into the year.
It’s a month to celebrate mothers and honor those that gave their lives for the country.
After a busy April, May begins with a blank slate.
Thirty one new days have arrived.
May 1, 2025 at 8:32 AM
A welcome to the month of May.
After the year started so slowly, time has gathered speed. Five months into the year.
It’s a month to celebrate mothers and honor those that gave their lives for the country.
After a busy April, May begins with a blank slate.
Thirty one new days have arrived.
After the year started so slowly, time has gathered speed. Five months into the year.
It’s a month to celebrate mothers and honor those that gave their lives for the country.
After a busy April, May begins with a blank slate.
Thirty one new days have arrived.
This poem is based off a prompt from the poet Alix Klingenberg.
The mountain remembers.
As it was during the climb around the archeological site at Mycenae in Greece.
Twisting and turning up the paths. But I’d get up that hill one stick tap at a time.
A panorama reaching the top of the hill.
The mountain remembers.
As it was during the climb around the archeological site at Mycenae in Greece.
Twisting and turning up the paths. But I’d get up that hill one stick tap at a time.
A panorama reaching the top of the hill.
April 29, 2025 at 8:38 AM
This poem is based off a prompt from the poet Alix Klingenberg.
The mountain remembers.
As it was during the climb around the archeological site at Mycenae in Greece.
Twisting and turning up the paths. But I’d get up that hill one stick tap at a time.
A panorama reaching the top of the hill.
The mountain remembers.
As it was during the climb around the archeological site at Mycenae in Greece.
Twisting and turning up the paths. But I’d get up that hill one stick tap at a time.
A panorama reaching the top of the hill.
After the storm.
As I left the house for Cucala Dance Company’s April social on Saturday evening, the skies opened up.
So much rain in a short time. The mugginess in the air was palpable.
Funny thing about storms, the skies clear up.
Just in time to start dancing the night away.
As I left the house for Cucala Dance Company’s April social on Saturday evening, the skies opened up.
So much rain in a short time. The mugginess in the air was palpable.
Funny thing about storms, the skies clear up.
Just in time to start dancing the night away.
April 28, 2025 at 7:54 AM
After the storm.
As I left the house for Cucala Dance Company’s April social on Saturday evening, the skies opened up.
So much rain in a short time. The mugginess in the air was palpable.
Funny thing about storms, the skies clear up.
Just in time to start dancing the night away.
As I left the house for Cucala Dance Company’s April social on Saturday evening, the skies opened up.
So much rain in a short time. The mugginess in the air was palpable.
Funny thing about storms, the skies clear up.
Just in time to start dancing the night away.
A moment of beauty to close out this week.
I spent my lunch break on Wednesday afternoon at Pumphouse Park, outside the Brookfield Place mall.
In April, the tulips are in full bloom.
It was a sunny day with blue skies above our heads.
I didn't want to walk back to work. I could sit here all day.
I spent my lunch break on Wednesday afternoon at Pumphouse Park, outside the Brookfield Place mall.
In April, the tulips are in full bloom.
It was a sunny day with blue skies above our heads.
I didn't want to walk back to work. I could sit here all day.
April 25, 2025 at 11:07 PM
A moment of beauty to close out this week.
I spent my lunch break on Wednesday afternoon at Pumphouse Park, outside the Brookfield Place mall.
In April, the tulips are in full bloom.
It was a sunny day with blue skies above our heads.
I didn't want to walk back to work. I could sit here all day.
I spent my lunch break on Wednesday afternoon at Pumphouse Park, outside the Brookfield Place mall.
In April, the tulips are in full bloom.
It was a sunny day with blue skies above our heads.
I didn't want to walk back to work. I could sit here all day.
This week’s #haikuforhumpday celebrates #ladiadadesantjordi.
The day celebrating the patron saint of Catalyuna.
Here, I’m at Barcelona’s Parc Guell in October 2016. The sunshine peeks through the clouds.
This was created by Antoni Gaudi to be luxury housing. But only two homes were built.
The day celebrating the patron saint of Catalyuna.
Here, I’m at Barcelona’s Parc Guell in October 2016. The sunshine peeks through the clouds.
This was created by Antoni Gaudi to be luxury housing. But only two homes were built.
April 23, 2025 at 8:52 AM
This week’s #haikuforhumpday celebrates #ladiadadesantjordi.
The day celebrating the patron saint of Catalyuna.
Here, I’m at Barcelona’s Parc Guell in October 2016. The sunshine peeks through the clouds.
This was created by Antoni Gaudi to be luxury housing. But only two homes were built.
The day celebrating the patron saint of Catalyuna.
Here, I’m at Barcelona’s Parc Guell in October 2016. The sunshine peeks through the clouds.
This was created by Antoni Gaudi to be luxury housing. But only two homes were built.
A moment from above for #earthday.
It was September 2022.
With the Italian Alps in view, as the descent into Venice begins to start a twelve day tour of Italy.
Without getting too preachy about it, Earth is humanity’s home. More needs to be done to protect it.
For every generation that comes.
It was September 2022.
With the Italian Alps in view, as the descent into Venice begins to start a twelve day tour of Italy.
Without getting too preachy about it, Earth is humanity’s home. More needs to be done to protect it.
For every generation that comes.
April 22, 2025 at 8:18 AM
A moment from above for #earthday.
It was September 2022.
With the Italian Alps in view, as the descent into Venice begins to start a twelve day tour of Italy.
Without getting too preachy about it, Earth is humanity’s home. More needs to be done to protect it.
For every generation that comes.
It was September 2022.
With the Italian Alps in view, as the descent into Venice begins to start a twelve day tour of Italy.
Without getting too preachy about it, Earth is humanity’s home. More needs to be done to protect it.
For every generation that comes.
A little bit late. But better late than never.
Happy Easter for those that celebrate the day.
On this day of the Resurrection, joy fills the air. The darkness has lost.
I hope that wherever in the world you are, joy is found or it finds you.
From me here in NYC, this is my Urbi et Orbi.
Happy Easter for those that celebrate the day.
On this day of the Resurrection, joy fills the air. The darkness has lost.
I hope that wherever in the world you are, joy is found or it finds you.
From me here in NYC, this is my Urbi et Orbi.
April 20, 2025 at 7:16 PM
A little bit late. But better late than never.
Happy Easter for those that celebrate the day.
On this day of the Resurrection, joy fills the air. The darkness has lost.
I hope that wherever in the world you are, joy is found or it finds you.
From me here in NYC, this is my Urbi et Orbi.
Happy Easter for those that celebrate the day.
On this day of the Resurrection, joy fills the air. The darkness has lost.
I hope that wherever in the world you are, joy is found or it finds you.
From me here in NYC, this is my Urbi et Orbi.
A moment when the invisible muse calls.
If not for a Google Photos notification, this poem doesn’t happen. I had a flashback to March 29th.
The vibe at Cucala Dance Company was electric. Enough to write a second piece on Salsa dancing.
The muse came in, we danced and then she left.
If not for a Google Photos notification, this poem doesn’t happen. I had a flashback to March 29th.
The vibe at Cucala Dance Company was electric. Enough to write a second piece on Salsa dancing.
The muse came in, we danced and then she left.
April 18, 2025 at 9:55 AM
A moment when the invisible muse calls.
If not for a Google Photos notification, this poem doesn’t happen. I had a flashback to March 29th.
The vibe at Cucala Dance Company was electric. Enough to write a second piece on Salsa dancing.
The muse came in, we danced and then she left.
If not for a Google Photos notification, this poem doesn’t happen. I had a flashback to March 29th.
The vibe at Cucala Dance Company was electric. Enough to write a second piece on Salsa dancing.
The muse came in, we danced and then she left.