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Raven Rodriguez Poem
My life is just a book.
A long story.
Not written by one person, but many.
But dedicated to one person.
My life is a book.
With many twists and turns
Sad and happy scenes.
I'm scared to turn the page because I know a person won't be in it.
I'm scared to see what the next chapter's name is.
I'm scared that if I turn the page the numbers may stop.
I'm scared that if I turn the page it might say the end.
Yet when I turn a page I cannot go back.
I cannot go back to a chapter and change it because it's already been read.
I can only leave a bookmark in my book for so long.
I eventually have to pick the book up and keep reading.
I know my book will eventually come to an end, as all books do.
But for now, all I can do is keep reading.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
With each new death, came a new flower.
Sprouting and growing in my garden.
My heart shatters as I walk through my garden,
Unable to leave this death filled garden.
It hurts to see new flowers sprouting, like thorny vines wrapping around my heart.
With every death, a flower grew.
After so long, I realized that my garden was not just full of death.
Life filled my garden as well.
I realized that even with every heart breaking death, a new life came.
With every death, new life sprouted.
So instead of endless greiving and trying to leave, I tend to my flowers.
As death takes them from me, life gives me something in return.
With each soul taken, I am given a different flower for my garden.
Never having two of the same flowers, for never are there two of the same people.
In my garden there is no sun in the sky to give sunshine to my flowers.
In my garden there is no clouds in the sky to give rain to my flowers.
The rain my garden receives is my tears I give with each new flower.
The sun my garden receives is my happiness as I take in the beauty of the new lives growing around me.
But when I die?
I'm not sure what will happen to my garden.
But I know I shall grow as a beautiful flower in someone else garden.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
Like a small flowing stream, down my cheek. A little stream that is full of great big emotions. Spilling everywhere. Like a leaky faucet, that only continues to drip. Almost seems to be a never-ending stream, but all things come to an end. Eventually, the stream stops when you are out of tears, like when you fix the leaky faucet. It makes take some work and time but it will stop.
Like the warmth of a cup of cocoa on a cold winter day. The nice feeling of when the sun shines on your face. The warmth of being in the covers is warm and cozy. Being bundled up in a cold snowstorm. The warm feeling of holding a cat. But as always, all things come to an end. The warmth will eventually come to an end.
The bitter saltiness of the great big oceans. That salty sting when you get a mouthful of ocean water. When you eat something that is overly salty. But eventually, the saltiness stops. The salty drops will stop rolling down your face and onto your lips. Your tongue will eventually stop tasting the bitterly salty drops.
But the cause of these salty warm streams?
The boiling anger is like a pot of chili over a fire. Like a raging wildfire, burning everything in its path. Like lava spewing from a great big volcano.
The deep sadness that storms like the sea. Like the storms on the sea drown and sink ships in its path. Like a tight blanket being held over you. Like being trapped deep in the great big sea.
The sunny happiness is like a great big cloud ready to burst. Like a child seeing a candy shop. Like a puffer fish swelling up until you just might burst with happiness. Like petting a small puppy
The horrible nervousness is like swarms of angry bees in your stomach. Like you might melt like a popsicle in the hot sun. Like when you have a stomach ache and are scared you might puke.
Why?
You can explain with all the scientific facts and research you want, but I will always believe that when our bodies can't handle the emotions too big for them it spills. Like an over-full bottle. The bottle will either explode or spill. The cause of these warm salty tears spilling down your cheeks.
Sweet, bitter, angry tears.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
Oh sweet Moon,
So pale and lovely,
I shall be with you soon,
Always right above me.
You are a Lily on a bed of roses,
So soft and sweet,
Like love a letter encloses,
I can hardly wait for us to meet.
As pale as rice,
As bright as a fire-fly,
The same full or slice,
So high in the dark sky.
So far yet so close,
Like teasing me,
Always there when needed most,
Prettier than the deep blue sea.
A sight for sore eyes,
A marble in the rocks,
Always watched as you rise,
As mischievous as a fox.
Oh to hold you my love,
Tightly wrapped in my arms,
Skin softer than a dove,
To sleep together past the alarms.
You wear a dress of silk,
Skin so pale and smooth,
Your skin is the color of milk,
To touch and soothe.
Oh my love the moon,
For now I am alone,
But we shall be together soon,
I think I will be okay on my own.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
Your anger made me learn many things.
If I hear loud footsteps, I needed to be quiet.
Your screaming and yelling taught me to not tell you if I needed help.
I learned not to say anything while or after you yell, it only seemed to make things worse.
For years I thought I was the source of your anger.
But no.
You were angry at someone else and took it out on me.
And now you are the source of my anger.
I was so angry that you took yours out on me.
But unlike you, I try to control my anger.
I don't scream and shout like you do.
I try to forgive.
I don't want to be like you.
The irony.
When I was little I wanted to be just like you.
I wanted to do the things you did.
But now?
Your anger has taken over you.
I want nothing to do with you.
I do not want to be you.
I don't want to be near you.
But anywhere I go, you seem to be there.
In every loud voice, in every loud shout.
Anytime someone yells, to me or not, I hear you, I see you.
That is why I work to never be like you.
I work on controlling my anger.
I work on not taking my anger out on those who do not deserve it.
I am me.
And I have changed.
You are you.
And you still have not changed.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
I never had a monster in my closet.
I never had a monster under my bed.
The only monster I ever saw, lived with me.
Nobody else saw that he was a monster because when he was around others he put on a disguise.
I tried to tell others about how he was a monster.
I got called a liar.
People stopped listening to me.
The monster fed everyone lies about me.
And of course, everyone believed the monster and not me.
The monster always lied to me.
The monster said he cared, but he was lying.
He never cared when I was scared.
He didn't care when I was struggling with my mental health.
All he ever did was lie.
He said he'd never hit me.
That was just another one of his lies.
He made up lies about my mother and tried to get me to turn my back on her.
For years I listened to the monster's lies.
This monster was cruel.
This monster had anger issues.
He didn't control his anger and lashed out.
Then he'd blame me or act as if nothing happened.
I wish the monster would look in a mirror.
A long time ago this monster wasn't a monster.
This monster use to be my father.
But anger overtook him, and he became a monster.
The only way to make himself feel better seemed to make me feel horrible.
He says he doesn't mean what he said or does, then why does he do it?
I wish I had a monster in my closet instead.
I wish I had a monster under my bed instead.
This monster seems to be the worse.
He's always there, like a shadow.
Trying to get people to be his puppets.
Brainwashing them so they think I am the monster.
I've heard his lies for years.
Sometimes my mind doesn't know who the monster is and who the victim is because of his lies.
Am I the monster or am I the victim?
After a while, I stopped listening to the monster's lies.
I started to fight back.
But that only caused the monster to grow.
I don't want this monster.
I want my Dad back.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
Painting is more than splotching colors on some paper.
Painting is expressing your feelings, your mind, and your craziness.
Your brush is your imagination, your paints are your emotions, and your canvas is your destination.
Illustrate how dark your mind is.
Show them even if they won't understand.
It does not matter if others cannot see what you do.
Paint the raging wildfires in your mind.
Paint the rough sea storms that drown your thoughts.
Art is not just one thing.
Art is many things.
When you paint, do not hide your emotions.
Spill them all over your canvas.
Art does not need to comfort anyone but you.
When you need to let it out, pick up the paintbrush.
Paint your mind.
Paint your thoughts.
Nothing truly makes sense, so don't try to make art that does.
Your art should make sense to you.
Pour the tears you could not shed into your art.
Painting is escaping your mind.
Painting is drawing with your emotions.
Painting is whatever you want it to be.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
My mind often bullies my body.
I do anything to make it perfect so my mind can shut up.
But it never does.
It always finds something wrong with me.
I've suffered more by trying to make my body perfect for my mind than by trying to ignore it.
And after so long of trying to be perfect, I realized.
I learned to ignore my mind and accept how my body is.
It may not be perfect, but it is mine, and it is good enough.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
I want to know what I look like in your eyes.
Because in mine all I see is insecurities.
Do you see me?
Or do you see the disguise I put on to hide the real me?
You say that you love everything about me when I can't even find something I love about myself.
What do you see?
I see the ugly monster.
But do you see what I see?
If you could give me your eyes for just a moment, so I could see myself through your eyes.
Then maybe I could love myself.
Do you love me even when I'm a mess?
Do you love me while I cry?
Do you still love me while I spill my emotions?
What do you see in me that I can't even see in myself?
Do you feel the same about yourself?
Do you want to know how I see you through my eyes?
Your skin is perfect, like the pale moon in the sky.
Your eyes are deep like the ocean, holding all of your emotions.
Your hair is perfect like a soft bed of leaves.
The color of bark on a tree.
I love everything about you.
I love everything I see through my eyes.
But am I just seeing your disguise?
Why do you hide?
Do you hide because I do too?
What if we both took off out disguises?
What if we traded eyes?
So we can see what the other sees in us.
The flaws and the perfection.
We can stop hiding from each other.
I want to see the other side of you like the moon always hides a piece of herself.
I want to see myself through your eyes.
I want to know what you think of me.
I love everything about you.
I love looking at you.
I love talking to you, even if I have nothing to say.
I love the way you smile.
I love the way you laugh.
But still, I wonder what you love about me.
I wish you would tell me how you feel because the way you act confuses me.
Do you love me like I love you?
How do you see me?
What do your eyes see?
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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Raven Rodriguez Poem
Every word you ever said left a mark on my body.
Every comment.
Every remark.
Every slur.
Every one of your opinions.
Some left marks so deep, that others could see them. I started to try and hide them. I tried not to look at them, for my mind seemed to believe your lies.
Each word left its mark on my body until I had no more room. My body was covered in marks. My mind and body were so used to receiving marks that the first time somebody said something to remove one, I froze. I didn't understand at first why they didn't make a mark. But eventually, I learned that not all people will cause marks, some will help remove them because they too once had the same marks.
I still have some marks on my body, ones that we're too deep to go away. But now my body and mind are better, with fewer marks from you. I've learned to stop believing the lies you said to me. I've learned to help others remove marks they've received.
Copyright © Raven Rodriguez | Year Posted 2023
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