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Best Poems Written by Travis Borrego

Below are the all-time best Travis Borrego poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Travis Borrego Poem

9-11 Inside Out

From the inside looking out,
The world is changing fast:
The mundane and significant both, 
now one and the same, 
forced to couple.

The intruders are here, 
grouped, speaking. 
Arguing? 
Their words, though foreign in tongue, 
Somehow familiar;
their anger, their utter hatred. 
These things transcend language.
They have their orders:
Here to the End.

Everything is changing so fast now,
Speeding by below, 
drawing inevitably near.
Far away, but closer now: 
time is short.
They know, we know, minds melded.
Their world is my world, 
our world.

Can the innocent see us coming?
Do they see the winged messenger?
Death from above. 
Soaring, towering.
Please, let it be quick.

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The Man I Called Dad

I have to go now,
he told me.
It's for the best,
he said.
And because he said it,
his unwavering word:
He's gone.

It's for the best,
they told me.
You'll figure it out,
they said.
But because they said it,
an impossible challenge:
I failed.

And now, 
all those years gone;
all those days passed by,
each going through its daily grind,
and I find,
that there are only more lies.
  And the faces that tell them,
just smile on by.
 
So if it's for the best, 
why do I hide?
Why couldn't I figure it out,
though I tried and tried?
  And now, only to die,
never really having known,
the man I called dad.

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The Balloon

It floats there in its place
big and yellow and
haunting;
prompting me to smile.
Its tail hangs, like that of a 
scorned puppy, who
never gets it right.
As it does its slow, hypnotizing 
dance, bobbing up and down
carried by the currents,
the children all laugh,
and they let go,
imagining;
imagining where it will go.
If their laughter fills my ears,
why do I turn away,
run away?
I try and let go;
to be happy like
I should,
to be happy like
they are.
I try to let go;
to float away,
with the balloon.

Details | Travis Borrego Poem

Peace

Men have fought and died,
to protect its notions; 
a paradox for sure,
when you consider the cost.
It is the footprint of 
the American Chicken;
yet people are
proud
and, people shout:
it's peace we want!
can't you see?
  But it's not their sons,
their families that lose
their lives.
It's not their families that are 
breathing
their last breaths.
  No,
they stay home; 
secure in their secureness.
They rally around,
a notion that  can't work.
Won't work.
Then they all come back,
to where they started:
men fighting and dying,
and dying and fighting.

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Abandoned: 3 O'Clock

When you're seven
3 o'clock is early and late and
everything, especially when you're left.
To your left and to your right you
see your brother, and, see your sister
and you wonder, and you see them wonder
why your mother, would and could just
leave you, all alone.
A knock and a ring and the 
light comes on, invading your eyes.
You shield them and, through the shield you
see the frown and you
hear the sound of the question form
and you, try to answer, you
try to say how your
mother left you, and she had places to be and
drugs to score, which apparently are
so much more
important
than you.
But it's 3 O'Clock, which is 
early and late and you
just don't know,
when you're seven.

Details | Travis Borrego Poem

Strange World

His eyes conceal an empty void.  Alone,
he stares between the worlds that float among
the real and fake and, in his mind they seem
to crash and meld, becoming what, to him
can only be described as here and there,
yet somehow not.  So now, alone he stays,
and, storming through the void, his world arrives 
between the truth and lies that form in hope.
And now, alone he stays, and his life, his
world can begin and end.  Crash, and end.

Details | Travis Borrego Poem

If

If the sun is bright,
shouldn't I see it?
If the tree is lush,
wouldn't I see it?

It seems to be,
that despite the need,
there is nothing to see:
Only the dark.

If she smiles my way,
wouldn't I see it?
If the fog is lifting, 
shouldn't I see it?

It seems to me, 
that despite the need,
there is nothing to see:
When you're blind.

Details | Travis Borrego Poem

Heaven

If I asked you,
would you know?
If I believed,
would it show?
Could I help you,
to see
that there is a greater good,
a greater God?
Bigger, 
more powerful than this,
more powerful than us.

When we all die,
when we all go,
will I see you there,
and will you smile?
Or will you be missing,
wailing, screaming, pleading?

So when I ask you,
I hope you know.
And because I believe,
I know it shows.
And I know,
that I'll see you
in the end,
on streets of Gold.