Home » Poems » Best » John Cabascango » Best John Cabascango Poems

Best Poems Written by John Cabascango

Below are the all-time best John Cabascango poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | John Cabascango Poem

Let the Dead Bury Their Dead

It’d be different if I had no regrets
But I’m too old for that

It’d be different if I had never hedged a bet
But I know that too

It’d be different if I could really say I made a difference
But I can’t really say

It’d be different if I had been the one not to conform
But the truth gets in the way

We celebrate the heroes
We cheer even harder when the villains die

But after the accolades, and verbal grenades
We go back to work
We drink the wine
Eat the bread
There’s only so much time for cheering the fallen
Or Mocking the dead

Details | John Cabascango Poem

A Child At Tornillo

A Child at Tornillo

Telling my story makes it real
Brings it into existence
What I thought I knew
What I know now
Wasn’t real
No matter how 

Well intentioned
Well thought out

How much more a child
Silenced by something real
Something dark
So dark that 
Reality is eclipsed

But what if hope
Like light
Can't be extinguished

What if imagination
Expression
Incarnates home, self
A knowledge that creeps through
The surface

What I want isn’t a dream
Not a vision of what isn’t
But what I’ve seen
In my mind’s eye
My heart’s memory

What I hear isn’t invention
A tune I know
Projected in another setting
In a voice too small
To be heard
To be ignored

What if the faith of a child
Is a light that darkness
Cannot comprehend
Cannot overcome

Details | John Cabascango Poem

A Villanelle On Fate

A Villanelle on Fate

Why do I weep at acts of fate
And gnash, and claw and cry
She weeps not for me, nor can relate

Though I ache and long to consummate
She feels no need to amplify
Why do I weep for acts of fate

There are those who seek to animate
The coldness she would fortify
She weeps not for me, nor can relate

Wildy I seek to dominate
My will dries up and is left dry
Why do I weep at acts of fate

At death do I seek to elevate
Although she sees no need to qualify
She weeps not for me, nor can relate

And though I thought myself a fair candidate
To prophesy, purify, even horrify
Why do I weep at acts of fate
She weeps not for me, nor can relate

Details | John Cabascango Poem

Fifa

It’s been a few months now
Since you don’t greet me at the door
Sleep on the couch next to me

Still find your hairs in the couch
Your crate is still in the laundry room
Empty

It’s quiet now

We all said goodbye
I drove to Richmond to bring one of your boys home 
We dug a hole in the backyard
Said a prayer together

I asked, “When you make the world right will you give me back my dog?”

Then we put  you in a box
In your new bed 
favorite toy
And favorite blanket

Sherri wrote you a sealed letter
“From Mommy” 
We all feel your unwritten absence

Details | John Cabascango Poem

The Not Quite Sonnet of Not Quite Success

The Not Quite Sonnet of Not Quite Success

Play by the rules, or at least the principles
Then you’ll make a difference
Shake off the praise with diffidence
And yet it ends of ostensible

Maybe those with more organization
And less knowledge and skills
Can rise to a pay grade that pays many more bills
And idealization and realization reach a point of conflation

And a drink on a Friday night
And a few extra curves
Bring a loss of position and a few extra nerves
And a bitterness that brings doubt to hindsight

The cycle begins and it ends
With the means and the ends

Details | John Cabascango Poem

Profetica

Profetica

There are wheels within wheels
And you said that you loved me
There was satin and heels

There are eyes within eyes
And I thought that I knew you
But it’s still a surprise

But the promise to never leave
Is a block of ice that does stay
And won’t go though never will cleave

The Eagle, The Lion, The Ox
We soared, were strong and now labor
It was open, now bound in a tight little box

No more ecstasy and visions
Just love and derision
And anger and hope and decisions

Details | John Cabascango Poem

After Visiting the Border, Sheryl Luna Exercise

When I open my mouth
Bats emerge
or worse, or better

What more can be said
How much more to know
To share, to oversimplify

Borders, places
That feel familiar, but not
My story


My language, my beliefs
But not my place

The stories that
Illustrate
Castigate
And just wander

In normal conversations
Ordinary paradoxes
Of those who are

Asking for help
Looking for
Dignity
Place
Something ordinary

Details | John Cabascango Poem

Captain America's Shield

Captain America’s Shield
Who never would yield
Who could do this all day

And yet

Who’s that good?
Does it always circle around to freedom and courage?
Is it always concentric circles of bravery all the way to the core”

There’s got to be more, some dark chocolate underneath that candy shell
Of patriotism, self-sacrifice, perfect hair?

The shield has no name, it matches the flag, but lots has happened since
Things have heated and cooled several times while it, and you were on ice
Must you always play strong and nice?

Don’t get me wrong, there are enough tortured heroes, so you should do you
And The shield should stay true, but maybe 
From time to time
There could be a few dents

Details | John Cabascango Poem

An Advent For My Father

I expected it with you, because you were suffering
I didn’t want it but it seemed a mercy
Of sorts

But now, when she wants to join you, to stop
The suffering, the confusion,the helplessness
The separation from you, two sons, and her God

Everything you all told me seems true
Just harder, lonelier, and now
I’m the adult, the father, the husband

The weddings you’ll miss, the growing old 
Not knowing your grandsons
But what is good with and without you

Is because of you, the love you gave
There is a husband, a son, and more of us
In you, with you and waiting

A son lost on Christmas, six without you now 
and a wife trapped in a mind betraying her before 
Death, eternity, a slow wait

You taught me not to quit, to struggle with doubt
You never gave an easy way out
Hard on the child, kind to the man

I don’t want you back, I will miss mom
But I want her with you, and my brothers
Make a place ready, but don’t rush I’ll be awhile

Details | John Cabascango Poem

Arkham Asylum

Round and round like the hands of a clock that seem to move 
While                                                                          never 
Quite                                                                           seem 
Right                 Help                         Help                       and
Admit                               the                                         new
Patients                       walls are                                       who
Admit                                                                                no
Wrong                    Closing in on me