Category: Poetry

Blogs · Poetry

Magic (Or the Lack of It)

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Hello readers!

While this is not a poem itself, it opens up the doors to many of them that I have written… In other words, I wrote a book, which is now available to the public!

I am so grateful for those who have encouraged me and been by my side every step of the way. The path of a writer is a hard one to walk.

But we are all set to reach our destinations.

The book is titled: Magic (Or the Lack of It)

Hence the title of this post.

The description is: Love is a form of magic. This is the absence of that wonder.

In essence, it puts into words the Resentment and the Regret heartbreak causes.

You can find this at: https://store.bookbaby.com/book/magic-or-the-lack-of-it

I hope you find reading these words as therapeutic as I found writing them.

Sincerely,

Payton Polanco

Poetry

Forgive Your Sins

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I always see the best in people,

My greatest gift and greatest flaw,

Because I look so hard for the good

That I force myself to forget the bad,

Or refuse to see it in the first place.

And when others try to put

The flashing signs in front of my face,

I close my eyes and walk past them.

 

So I get my heart punctured,

And there are times I almost bleed out.

I let myself get so lost in the ecstasy

That I ignore the pain that is sure to come

Until it tears my skin and fractures my bones.

But when I care I feel that time is fleeting,

And we don’t have time to waste

On holding onto the hurt,

So I try to let it go.


I forgive and give until

There is nothing left for me to offer,

And when I am empty handed

I still try to let others take

What I don’t have .

I let them breathe my air

And steal precious beats of my heart

With the blind hope that in the end

It will be worth all I have sacrificed.

Poetry

Tainted Memories

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We were built on tainted memories,

Starlight stained with stolen kisses,

And I thought the cuts

Didn’t run too deep,

But there was so much I didn’t see.

 

Like how the moonbeams

Didn’t seem to illuminate

The darkness between us,

And the millions of questions

We didn’t want to answer.

 

Or the blood

Dripping from my chest

Onto the white rose

That once represented

My innocence and purity,

And painting it red

With the color of sin.

 

And now I know

That there is no way

To wash away the marks

We have carved into stone,

So the only thing we can do

Is say goodbye.

 

Poetry

Happy Again

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You whisper in my ear

Sweet nothings that seem

To make my heart

Pound in my chest

Like the beat of a drum,

And I don’t want

For you to ever stop.

 

Hold me tightly

In the middle

Of the black night,

And be my moon

Be my stars

That will chase away

The darkness that I fear.

 

Kiss me softly

And let me feel

All you will give me,

All I am willing

To give in return

As I lose myself

In your gentle touch.

 

I want to inhale you,

Or let you course

Through my veins.

Make me forget

The horrid world

That crushes me

Every single day.

 

So Cocaine I ask

For your rush and ability

To take me away to

A place I don’t know,

Better than the torture

I go through without

A single break.

 

Heroin I call you

To flood me inside

With your promises,

Even if they are

Nothing but lies

To comfort my soul,

And even for a second

Make me happy again.

Poetry

A Bit Like Horror

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Falling in love

Is a bit like a horror movie,

With you in the starring role.

 

It starts out nice

A good, happy day

With nothing seemingly wrong,

But you know that there’s something

Just around the corner.

Something in you suspects

That there might be a thing going on.

 

Your heart will race

When you feel it coming,

Pounding in your chest

Like the beat of a drum

With your hands getting sweaty,

And your breaths a bit shaky.

 

When it hits,

You’ll be scared,

And you will never know

What is around the bend,

Or what is at the end

Of the dark, creaky hallway.

 

People will make stupid decisions,

Including you sometimes,

And you’ll watch others die,

Even when they fight to save it.

 

You’ll want to run sometimes,

Get away as fast as possible,

Or you might want to give up

And let your own die,

Just to stop the fear

And the pain that it might cause.

 

But it’s worth fighting for,

Both your life and your heart.

If you believe you can

Defeat the monsters

That try to get in your way,

You might come out bruised,

And there may be a few scars,

But you’ll feel more alive

Than you ever had before.

 

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Poetry

When a Rose Dies

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When a rose dies,

People weep

As the colorful petals

Turn brown and brittle

And fall to the ground.

But when a person

Sickens in the trenches,

Withering away

Until nothing is left,

People turn a blind eye,

While they let the victim

Fade into oblivion.

 

When a dove’s

Softened white feathers

Are soaked in blood

People cry.

But when soldiers

Who have been drenched

In a metallic red

For our freedom

Return to the place

They call home,

There is nowhere to go,

A new war to survive,

Abandoned on the streets.

 

When two towers

That used to symbolize

Unwavering strength

Come crashing down,

People bawl.

But when a city

Is blown to vapor,

Hundreds of thousands

Of innocent lives lost,

People cheer because

It ended a war,

Though it made

Countless ghosts.

 

So when what we see

As beautiful treasure

Is taken away,

We weep.

We cry.

We bawl.

But when the perfect

Facade does not exist,

We pay no heed

To its disappearance,

Because in this world

A veneer is more valuable

Than any ugly truth.

Let the Dawn Come
Poetry

Let the Dawn Come

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Let the blue sky

Wash into a sea

Of red, orange, and yellow.

Let the sun shine

Onto fields of wheat.

Let the tall grass in the meadow

Be covered in morning dewdrops.

Let the dawn come.

 

Let the wind

Rustle the leaves of a tree

As light bursts from

The uneven horizon.

Let rays of sweet sunshine

Illuminate the world around

And expose the hidden

Crevices of the night.

Let the dawn come.

 

Let the horrors of

The dark stormy night

Fade away in a cacophony

Of vibrant new colors.

Let the gray clouds part

To release the day that follows

As the heavens peer through.

Let the dawn come.

 

Let the sadness wash away

To spark up a fiery soul

That has never been seen

Before the load is lightened.

Let eyes see that,

Through every trial of despair

And the moments when

It is a new moon only offering

A shrouded feeling of hopelessness,

Every night comes to an end

As light rises from the shadow

And the single thing to do is

Let the dawn come.

Poetry

A Blank Page

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A blank page is worse

Than any written word,

Because every sentence

Is a piece of a soul,

Even when it doesn’t seem

Like it glows in the dark.

 

For ideas can spill

From graphite or ink,

In a peculiar mess

That can be manipulated

Into something as beautiful

As the galaxies in the night.

 

And those galaxies

Are ever changing

In the blackened sky,

Creating and destroying,

All in the same breath,

Which blows out stardust

Into forgotten places

That the naked human eye

Was never able to see.

 

And an idea is more descriptive

Than hundreds of thousands

Of the most stunning images

That a photographer

Could ever capture,

Because it is rather a reverse

Of a saying that has been

Put in place for years.

 

Because a word speaks

A million pictures,

Only within the span

Of a few simple syllables

As visions flood the mind

In sounds unspoken,

But rather heard

By open hearts.

 

But none of this exists

On meaningless, untouched paper,

Because each written journey

Can never be completed

Until a pencil or pen

Scars the universe

With a single stroke.