Author: poetryfest

we kiss and go out—repeat
long enough to burn in the sun while we sleep.

we huddle around the lamplight
knees kissing the linoleum floors.
our bodies saved summer
’s heat. we rub our palms together
to resurrect the magic of the sun, falling
back into our shapeless, galloping shadows.
you ask me to tell a bedtime story
but i insist we say a prayer first.
your eyes are confused. you don’t understand
why we’re praying if we’re not religious.
i tell you that you don’t need to believe
in god to pray. you ask me why.
and i say that’s just the way we are,
doing and undoing. such conversations
seem to go nowhere. they seem to not
exist at all. a distant station exhales
from the radio, turned halfway on. i don’t
know when you started to eat your own
skin at night, to blister your lips to sand
and tuck them in the seabed of your
stomach. i thought i would stay with you,
at least for tonight because tomorrow’s
the day you’re dying. you don’t
seem to know that and i don’t
tell you, that this prayer is for you.
i don’t know what your name means
but the second syllable sounds like “beauty”
in my home tongue. under the lamplight,
your skin is liquid gold.

He felt emotional pain
His heart was melting
The type of pain he didn’t want to feel
Instead of cutting his body
He cut his soul
Becoming a slave of the world
Letting his body belong to others
Drowning himself in lust
For the pleasure of others
What had he become?
Whatever they needed him to be he said
He didn’t exist for himself
He didn’t want to
He wanted to escape his emotions
He just wanted to be apathetic
So he drowned himself In sexual desire
A desire he didn’t have
But it was his only escape
Picture after picture, video after video
He lost his dignity, the respect of his body
He lost his soul

it was my life
jumping and spinning
perfecting the movements
mediocrity won’t suffice

a routine
perfectly crafted
practiced for hours

a chance
for my hard work
to be recognized

a jump
a perfect spin
a landing

the approach
a jump
a spin
but no landing

my broken blades
lay on the ice
by my side
as the crowd gasped

those gasps
hurt more
than the fall

forcing a realization
that my dream
would never be
completed,

paramedics,
ambulance ride,
doctors,

condolences,
apologies,
they helped

until
i heard their words

uncensored,
disappointed,
disgusted

“waste of talent”
“replaceable”
“insignificant”

it was true

it just hurt to know
that i wasn’t
the only one

In time, confidence always Trumps competence.
Not a skill—
But in spectacle.

Crown the loudest bravado.
Stomp on clouds tomorrow,
Diamond scaffolds cannot break,
Even those built on lies and stakes.

With just enough competence
to hire the confident.

And one day
Be surrounded by
Nothing but
Confidence.

What happened to those with the competence?
They lack confidence.

So they refine competence.
Accrue confidence
Until reality becomes conscience.
Competence always embraces competence,
Secretly craving—
The answers of confidence.

Press in—then
Ring—break the scene.
A comes before C,
Fire first—then define the dream.

So which reality do we live in?
A world where confidence crowns the throne,
While competence builds the castle—
never allow to own.

In the depths of despair, suffering does reside,
A shadow that follows, where hope cannot hide.
It lurks in the darkness, like a cunning thief,
Stealing peace and joy, causing endless grief.
It haunts the broken hearts, with its icy touch,
Leaving scars and wounds, that hurt so much.
It wears down the spirit, with relentless force,
Draining all strength, leaving no remorse.
Suffering, a silent companion in our strife,
Testing our resilience on the journey of life.
It comes in many forms, like a cruel disguise,
A relentless storm, where tears fall from our eyes.
In times of hardship, suffering seems endless,
A relentless tide, an abyss so bottomless.
But within each trial, there lies a hidden thread,
A glimmer of strength, waiting to be fed.
For suffering teaches, in its own painful way,
To cherish the sunshine, on the darkest day.
It builds resilience, hones our inner might,
Transforming us into warriors who embrace the fight.
So let us not cower, or let suffering define,
But rise up with courage, love as our lifeline.
For in the depths of struggle, we learn to rise,
With hearts that are stronger, and eyes that are wise.
Suffering may linger, but it does not define,
The essence within us that’s forever divine.
With hope as our ally, and love as our guide,
We’ll conquer the suffering that tries to hide.

Words have power, soft or strong,
They build you up or do you wrong.
A love letter, sweet, tender, and true,
Or sharpest lines that cut right through.

For years they’ve travelled, far and wide,
Through ancient scrolls and kingdoms’ pride.
They crowned a king, or declared a war,
They whispered peace, they opened doors.

A telegram, so short yet deep,
Could bring you joy or make you weep.
Edicts sealed in wax and gold,
Shaped the fate of young and old.

Words can sing, they shout, they dance,
A poet’s voice, a lover’s glance.
A battle cry, a leader’s stand,
Or wisdom passed from hand to hand.

They help us learn, they help us grow,
From childhood days to all we know.
Through Shakespeare’s quill and well-known songs,
Their echoes still are loud and strong.

Words have taught us to express,
In every tongue, with no redress.
From Latin prose to samurai code,
They paved the paths that history rode.

Words unite us, near and far,
Through stormy skies or shining stars.
The speeches bold, the letters penned,
Could forge a bond or spark an end.

Words have been with us since time began,
Through wars and choices made by man.
The cries of freedom, lines of peace,
Or tales of battles that never cease.

Words have shaped the books we read,
The films we love, the thoughts we breed.
From stories told to lines we see,
Words have even made you and me.

And in one moment, swift and true,
A single word can change our views

We’re dying of heat in a church in Australia,
pamphlets fan our faces.
A flower wilts through the space between our fingers,
and we walk by faith, not by sight, so
Guilty.

Well, we know the cashmere of time:
Antarctic kangaroos,
a rumble of the plates,
drinking a glass of lukewarm water, cold once,
but forgotten.

My son, I have a presentiment that your education
Would somehow be to deny the existence of God
But I could confirm you; at least it is not scientific
To repudiate the existence of that omniscient Lord
We can’t confirm or deny, to say all above board
True scientists can only say, “He is still undiscovered.”
They merit the ignorance, limitations, and Undiscovery
And their faith in incessant yet persistent ingenuity
But they’d ne’er say, “Since we have not found God
For we reject, for certain; mere existence of this sort.”

Pseudoscientists or expositors, ascertain that denial
Core of their business lies in dismissing His survival
Just as pastors or preachers ascertain as mortal-coil
They need people to be blindfolded, ask them to toil;
I, for, cannot confirm or deny the existence, as Goder
But I can certainly tell you what I’d possibly discover.

GOD POSSIBLY is the
Connections withal permutations and combinations
And combined among different shades of the limits
Tenuous connections among point(s) and infinities
Tangible and intangible connections among those
Things and nothingness that can never be defined
Connections among the humanelies and beasties–
Richers and paupers, pain-givers and pain-takers
Connection with all classes; between you, me, and them–
Despite, we ever or never go to temple(s) and proclaim.

It is how people ever or would never find their Gods
You’re no exception, should also not give up giving it shots
Everyone finds his God, least for ones, when even hope is at stakes
The meanings would be different, even the matters, and the shapes
He possibly exists even before gestations or even after deaths;
Just remain steadfast, eternally inquisitive, and persistent in quests.

See! One who sins is a slave of his sins, for he’d feel pride in sinnings
Pride is enigma instilled by God as power to connect all his winnings
Then the values of acknowledging one’s worth exceed all their lim-its
Becoming supercilious and leading to one’s inglorious records in its;
Then He becomes as a faith in ignominy, ruling the masses to His accord
Ignominious as begetter of magnanimity, fall of pride the one can afford;
God possibly is a touch, even eternal, as the smaller than the smallest points
Who survives in everyone as a transient beauty, connecting quiescent joints
No one is perfect, nothing ever could be; all are sinful in some way or other
Even writing this poem, a platitude, could be a sin; given my faith gets ove

Would it be safe enough to say I miss you?
Even tho you’re gone, I still feel as if you
We’re still here with me, But even tho you’re gone

I still can’t picture life without you, and what I mean
By that, is that every time someone asks me how many cousins
I have, I always say five instead of four, or when my
Parents tell me we’re going to your house

I always picture you at the door with the warmest smile
And your arms are wide open for a hug, just waiting for us to arrive
But… it’s all an illusion that I make for myself
But the problem is that… it hurts me more
To pretend that you’re still here, then to just accept the fact that
your gone

I know I’m being repetitive, but what else can I say?
That I’m sad that you left me all alone?
Or maybe that I’m mad that I can’t erase your face from all the family photos
I’m mad because the doctors couldn’t do anything to help you
Or maybe that I’m angry because you didn’t tell me?
Or that I’m angry because you thought
It was no big deal

But no, I’m not angry…I’m hurt.
I’m hurt at the fact that it makes me angry
Because it wasn’t your fault..

It just happened, and everything happens
For a reason, right?
And its always gonna be an if never a when or you will
Like if you had lived, you would have become
The most famous comic creator, as you would put it
Or if you had lived, you would have been there on my
Special day when I turned fifteen with your fancy suit that you had bought
Months before you died, we would have danced and laughed together
As I always imagined

But no..instead I was stuck with looking at the entrance
Waiting for something that was never going to come
I was stuck at the front door of your house, waiting for the
Embrace that was never going to happen
I was stuck…waiting at your room door..waiting for you…
But in reality, I was waiting for nothing
I would just stand outside your room, looking at the white door

waiting…

But its been years since your passing
And I’m still outside that white door
Just waiting for you…

Because even tho its been years
I still cant go past and let it go
So ill keep waiting
And ill keep writing about you
Because I miss…
you

– Valeria Moreno