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Joshua Torres Poem
Good night little one
The time has come for you to sleep,
Without whines or groans or shuffling feet.
I'll tuck you in with your teddy at your side,
Hoping that in peaceful sleep you'll soon reside.
But the night brings forth it's very worst,
The howls and scratches of monsters cursed.
Silhouettes fill your room and head with fright,
You scream and in a flash I turn on the light.
You rush into my arms and say, “I'm scared,
The monsters came and their teeth they bared.
I thought for sure they'd eat me whole,
with just their claws; no spoon or bowl.”
Holding you tight, I smile, and wipe away your tears.
Then softly say, “My dear child, you should not fear.
Though the night bring faint noises and the dark,
To their howls and whispers we should not hark.
The howl is just the wind blowing through the trees.
Raining down orange and red bright colored leaves.
The scratches are the branches lightly tapping the window,
Asking the curtains to open and to let in the moons glow.
The shadows you see are your most beloved toys
That through out the day you very much enjoy.”
Smiling, I kiss your forehead and tuck you back in.
I hand you your teddy and you give me a big grin.
And as I am about to turn off the light you say,
“But what if something does come to take me away?”
Smiling I say“I promise, in a blink of eye I'll be here,
To shield you of all monsters and creatures of fear.
Now sleep little one and worry no more.
I'll not let anything harm you; this I am sure.”
Smiling you turn and fall happily to sleep,
Knowing that my promise I'll surely keep.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am the one that reaches for the highest of heights.
I use the clouds as a helpful step to rest my feet as I reach.
Stretching my arms up high, trying to grasp a hold of the stars.
Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am the one that struggles through the thistles and thorns.
Reaching forward, eyes tearing up as I bleed for the light that will soon be mine.
I use the light's rays as motivational beams, urging me forward.
Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am the one who fights through the ridicule and puns.
I fly through the maze of the bombardment of insults and put downs, straight to my prize.
I use the tormenting words as encouragement to later prove them wrong.
Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am the one that searches for truth.
I wander through a world of lies and tricksters as they try to make me lose focus.
Discovering traps and evading paths of lies by evaluating them with logic and reason.
With every lie evaded, I inch closer to the truth.
Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am that one, the one who dreams.
For without dreams I am nothing, but a human with no purpose.
And when my dreams are reached, the scars I will wear proudly.
For the struggles I had faced will stand as validation to how much my dreams are worth.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2012
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Joshua Torres Poem
I wake, my eyes rapidly wandering;
Avidly searching for the source of the tapping.
Held captive by the sight demon with it's repulsive hellish guise.
Lingering; Hidden amongst shadows it stares while I let loose my cries.
Raising my shield of comfort, blocking my eyes hoping it'd flee.
Yet still it lingers; feeding my fears; arousing my terror in me.
My creativity betrays me; misconstruing reality for fiction.
Bringing forth a multitude of tormentors of my terrified imagination.
Monstrous shadows and sharp fanged demons are my walls new décor.
They beckon; imploring to be an audience to my shrieks once more.
Shivers travel down my spine, I whisper, “Who goes there?”
The shadows take form; a beast with crimson eyes and the size of a bear.
Turning, raising it's claws; claws tinted with the souls of victims past,
It grins, bearing his jagged teeth, advancing; helplessly I yell, “AVAST!”
“Demon of the night avast! Depart! Withdraw yourself from my quarters!”
Yet still it creeps, pacing closer to the foot of my bunk; disheartened I cower.
Retreating under the warm embrace of my shield, terror torments my mind.
A silhouette rises, looming over my carcass; a vulture awaiting to dine.
Tightly shutting my eyes, begging the reaper my soul quickly take.
It's claws begin tear through the hull of my shield; I wake...
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
I was born cursed, disfigured and mangled,
With a face so warped, twisted and tangled.
A shock to the world of normality,
Infecting this land of endless humanity.
I have been called wicked, evil, and gross.
Despised by the people that i thought love me the most.
Tore from the loving arms of my mother's care,
Left alone on the street; cold, hungry and scared.
Cradled by disparity that lingered in the dark,
Taught by the dogs how to loudly bark.
I learn to find meals by bearing my teeth,
For even monsters must have food to survive and eat.
Thievery has become my most valuable of skills,
For it helps me achieve and take all that i will.
I have blended with shadows and learned the way of the night,
My greatest of jokes is to give the humans a good fright.
Their screams make me laugh as they run off in fear.
The long shrieks echo through the void and into my lonesome ears.
They think it insensitive, foolish and rude.
But to me it really doesn't feel that crude.
They plan out my capture and which trap to set.
But i don't understand why they whine or fret.
I'm just playing practical jokes, isn't that what children do?
Or has my innocent jesting some how gone askew?
They hunt me like a rabid beast on the loose,
They search with guns, knives and a rope with a noose.
Retreating to the darkness they closely follow,
The rope they tightly wrap leaving me unable to swallow.
They tear me away from the dark's embrace ,
Into the horrid light where my fate i must face.
I am chained and beaten day and night for i have no emotions,
While the tellers of stories depict all of my hellish accusations.
I am imprisoned by a jury not of my peers,
The sentence is death for the crime that's so clear.
They set the stage for my most inevitable demise,
Tears filling my eyes as i confusedly wonder why?
Born only to know all the hate this world had to offer,
Not shown any love nor caring just told to suffer.
For i was not blessed with a beautiful figure or face,
But one that's appalling that not one person would ever embrace.
So as my eyes finally close for the very last time,
I can't help but wonder this thought through my mind.
I might have been disfigured and an unwanted imposter,
But was i the one that was evil, horrible, savage monster.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
One day, with these small hands I will forge the future.
One day, with my small feet I will walk for miles and miles just like you taught me.
One day, with this small mouth I will say things, oh so sweet and try not to say the bad.
One day, I will stray from you and from all you have taught me.
One day, I will realize I make mistakes and will apologize for my ignorance.
One day, this small child you see will grow and make you proud.
One day, I will find love and start a life of my own.
One day, I will have children and teach them all you have taught me.
One day, I will hold your hand like you held mine through all of the heartache.
One day, I will carry you as you did me when I was but a child.
One day, but through it all never forget, I am forever your loving child.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2013
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Joshua Torres Poem
A lot can be learned by the passing of time.
From the tick and the tock of a clock and it's chime.
Unable to control it's speed never slowing,
Not able to hasten it or stop it from going.
The eternal pendulum swings to and fro,
As we constantly pray for it not to go.
Time continues on it's desired course,
Never thinking twice or feeling remorse.
We may think it lax as we impatiently wait,
Or too quick when we laugh and happily congregate.
It mends our broken hearts with every tick and tock,
Teaching us to be strong even when we think we are not.
Like a thief in the night it steals our younger years,
But grants us wisdom through the struggles and tears.
We waste it like we have an endless amount,
Only to realize to late that every second counts.
So as time ticks away the years from our lives,
Let our love and forgiveness to no one deprive.
For life is too short to live wondering what ifs,
Because time stops for no man or any that wish.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
Discarded, left in the abyss of solitude to decay,
Left with only with hopelessness and eternal dismay.
Fearing the worst with each passing day
Cringing, hiding my heart in a hole near where I lay.
The sun beats on my body with no remorse to my health,
Searing my soul, making my skin redden and welt.
The welts remind me of the meaning of agony as they burst,
As I beg for anyone to my wounds quickly nurse.
Doubt clouds my mind as plead for a savior,
Or some water to drink for my pallet to savor.
But days turn to weeks as my strength depletes,
Leaving my escape from this world looking bleak.
But then, when at my grimmest, an angel appeared.
Retrieving my heart from the hole I had engineered.
With her diamond eyes and flawless skin of silk,
She mended my wounds, and my hope, she rebuilt.
She breathed life into my brittle, vacant bones with only one kiss,
Replenishing my strength she enchanted me; showing me bliss.
Rising to my feet, she smiles, presenting my heart as it beats.
Shaking my head I gratefully say, “It is now yours to keep.”
She smiles, extending her hand with her heart so divine;
Say, “If I am to keep yours, then you will keep mine.”
Hand in hand we will forever walk and never retreat.
For the love we have for each other; nothing can defeat.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
The sun rises yet again,
And with it another battle to begin.
The dark star lit skies has not treated me well,
Torturing my mind with memories of times I fell.
The morning rays chase away the stories of discouragement,
Leaving only new demons without empathy or sentiment.
These burdens tax my body and weigh heavy on my mind.
Iron clamps of despair keep me in it's bind.
The war rages between loud cries of giving up and the rebel whisper of never.
The trenches leave me beaten and scared, hoping and praying it gets better.
Spilling my heart and soul through this pen,
Hoping my fractured world to finally mend.
The blows knock the air out of lungs, stopping the clocks mid-chime.
Emotions streaming down my face as I collapse for the last time.
Is this where I give up roll over and die?
Has the fuel for my fight finally run dry?
I muster up my last shred of strength an let out a loud cry,
The desperation fills my corpse as my soul reaches for the sky.
I scream at the struggles I can't physically attack,
The growls finally leave my vocal cords torn and taxed.
I retreat to my inner sanctuary to a place where the demons cannot reach.
I listen to courage, faith, hope and all they preach.
They pick me up, dusting me off begging me to try once more.
Return to my reality of bone and blood I am different then before.
These demons clever lies finally become evident fallacies,
Made up evils of horrid fantasies.
As my hands tremble, knees buckle and my arms feel short of strength, I stand,
I pile up my burdens on my back and set my footing on solid land.
To think this path would be easy was insane,
I now know what it is to know pain.
But through my struggle knowledge I gain.
How to manage the pain and work through the strain.
So I will work those arms, stretch out these legs and open those naive eyes and finally live,
Stand tall without apologies, and without any complaint to give.
Victorious I will be when the final page is read,
For my feet will not stumble again on this path that I tread.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
The sun once more has lost it's shine,
And the moon and stars our sleep incline.
Come now angel, time for bed,
It's time to rest your precious head.
Turn on the night light, oh so bright,
To scare the monsters that plan to fright.
Grab your teddy and blanket too,
To hold you close the whole night through.
Come once more to my embrace.
I'll say good night and kiss your face.
Now lay down and closes your eyes,
For the sun once more will rise.
Dream of joy my angel while you rest,
and know my life you've truly blessed.
And while I watch you drift off to sleep,
I'll thank the Lord for your love so sweet.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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Joshua Torres Poem
What is poetry, if not a form of artistry, looking for beauty, through the calamity?
Why do we waste rhymes and peoples time just for us to shine in the spotlight of our own iniquity?
We stand up here to rant to open ears hoping that out tears were not shed in vain.
Speaking of stolen dreams, evil things, times of struggle and strain.
Have we become nothing but moans and groans; whining, begging joy be shown,
Becoming the clowns of our towns speaking foolishly trying to sound profound?
Giving loud barks out of the dark hoping to spark a light for ourselves,
Encapsulated in a prison with no vision past our imaginary box and it's shelves.
Our pens bleed the the story of failure and glory but seems to always fall short of the truth.
It's been buried to deep for us to query, for the shovel of falsehood has thrown the dirt having the lie take root.
Growing, stealing and masquerading with masks of what was long forgotten in the elegant dialect of our rant.
Leaving no way to be freed, no revolution to lead, left with only one word to proceed, can't.
A poet could be and should be a constant escapee from the prison of catastrophe,
Emerging through the strife enjoying life, it's beauty and all its quirky abnormality.
Our lexicon is a gift to build on expressing the bond between our mind and reality,
Not only it's tragedy or gravity of pain, but, also the silent whisper, of the muted majority.
So let what we say be a ray of hope, not torment, for poetry is not for us,
It's to help rebuild, and shield our readers, so they have something to trust.
For a poet with no order is like a country with no borders, unstable and unable to grow,
Easily uprooted with happiness looted, left for no hope to grasp at or show.
Let us sharpen our tongues and strengthen our lungs, for all we have is our breath,
To influence the world giving imaginations a whirl with creative writes, not only of death.
For what we speak comes to life, whether it be of strife or delight, for our pens depict our destiny,
For what we say paves the way we react on the days of struggle and joy for eternity.
Remember each time your pen blots a line, that it is a crime to write only of despair,
For our readers deserve to read something undisturbed, for our words can impale like a spear.
Any person can write, but to be a delight, that is a thing only a poet can do.
So let's return to the past and our passion cast the enchanting words that we all once knew.
Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2015
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