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Best Poems Written by Rubi Ace

Below are the all-time best Rubi Ace poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Truth

Truth is a silent scream behind closed doors.
It is lost to our mind, unable to be verbalized.
It is pooled, festered piss on the carpet floor.
It is a mattress soaked in silent, unseen tears.

Truth is reliving the nightmare, and cries in the middle of the night.
It is waking up at 2 with heart racing from reliving.
It is a fear a girl cannot express.
It is a life destroyed.

Truth is obfuscated between lawyers and affidavits.
It echoes the footsteps of the court.
It is early puberty, and unseen scars.
It is placed behind the lock and key, and the red seal on paper.

Truth is a frozen girl, naked on the shower floor.
It is a drawing of stick figures doing unspeakable things.
It is being scared to open the blinds, and unable to open doors and windows.
It is a girl hiding in the cupboard. 

Truth is the silent scream behind closed doors.

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Ashayam

I want you to find me in forests,
crawling through bushes and looking for things small
I want you to catch me
while communing with rain, wind and trees.
I want us to be intertwined and inseparable
as branches above and mycelium below.
I want you to kiss me
as drops of rain kiss the leaves,
gently glowing in the light,
with me trembling under your touch

I want you to chase me
down the wild streams
through fields of native grasses and flowers.
I want you to be part of me,
as smell of ancient dirt fills my nostrils
and reaches every fiber of my being.
I want you to hold me in the field,
under the countless stars sparkling like dew in morning,
and with the spirits of ancestors watching over us.
I want you to love me, as artist needs to be loved,
	Deeply, freely and unbound,
for me to grow in your safe and warm embrace.

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Matters of Reason and Heart

There is this man
In patterned shirt, perfectly ironed without creases
Where turquoise and gold tear the cloudy sky
Sitting in the concrete castle.
One cannot iron out the scars of the artist.
Artists do not go slowly like turtles but soar and dive in wild, unrestrained dance listening to trees and wind and rain.
Artists embrace, and burn with passion and float among the rainbows, clouds and fluffy little bunnies.
The man holds the thin red string that grounds the artist.
Artist will throw him on the bed, untucking his shirt forming creases and ripples,
Artist will blow raspberries on man's lower stomach and tickle his inner thigh
Artist will allow him in her depths
Artist will call him imzadi and sleep on his coarse chest hair
Artist will want him to stay
Matters of reason and heart will clash
And streams of salty water will form waterfalls.
The reality will shatter like broken glass.
Home for the artist is with the man in perfectly ironed shirt without creases.

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Communion

Life is not only a well walked path.
It is walking between blades of grass and morning dew 
that looks like glistening lakes.
It is sometimes tufts of fur left behind on the meadow 
where one life ended so another could be sustained.
It is a bubbling brook 
hidden behind the bushes and blackberry thorns.
It is a long discarded skin of the snake 
left at the base of the tree.
It is violent, deep umber cliffs 
rising above in crystalline planes trying to reach the sky.
It is a blue tipped feather 
left behind as a gift.
Life is not only a well walked path.

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Frozen

You just stood there naked, frozen in time, staring at the shower.
There was just the shell that remained as I sat on the hallway floor watching.
27 holes in the wall, all showing the map of pain.

Holes in the hallway where 
he raised you by the arm, 
Dangled you in the air, 
hit you across the back, 
dropped you curled up in a pile, 
started walking away, turned back and kicked you with a smile on his face when you were 6.

Holes in the bedroom where he took your innocence away when you were 4. 
I so much wish I knew.

Thin spray of blood on walls before bedroom door, dried and crusty, reasons for it by now forgotten.

You keep staring at the place where the physical pain and mental obliteration began.

Your eyes do not blink and are blank.
Pain and memories suspended in time.

Your shoulders drop, you stumble, I put a towel over you and hold you. 
You are absent from your shell.

Mourning the loss of the child you should had been.

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Rain

I walked next to the still lake named after a saint in the rain.
The roots of the pine trees, 
gnarled knotted,
 	twisted pushing against the rocks and clay, 
dissolving it providing for life.
Rain drenched me, mixing with my tears.
I thought of a man living in a concrete castle 
who did not know he belonged in forests, 
walking through clean rivers with me, 
him as elven archer and me as elven scout slaying bugbears.
I could still feel the way I wrapped my legs around his waist in the Lerderderg river, 
blending into one, the passion, lust and love intertwined and free.
I caressed the moss of the ground, 
inhaling the smell of the fallen pine needles and leaves 
mixed with mud and clay 
reminding me of his coarse gray chest hair.
I looked towards the open rural skies 
for turquoise and gold 
but it was too distant beyond the gray clouds.
I got reminded of us walking down in downpour at night near Swan and Punt, 
next to roaring traffic where cars were to me elephants 
with battle armor with fire instead of eyes, 
and I just wanted to spin, and spin and spin and dance 
soaked in rain while you were rushing me to the shelter.
I get put into these people-y situations at a pub and restaurant 
ogling the waitress while just wanting to be next to you. 
We rate her on scale one to ten and I find myself unable to flirt with her 
as I am overwhelmed with sounds 
reminding me of the warzone triggering my neurodiverse senses.
I look at my two wolves drenched like rats, 
replacements for your presence and 
I just want to scream that I want you here and 
I do not care it will be ing Brady Bunch just missing Alice, and 
that whole zoo cannot replace you, and 
that I want to be for once able to wake up next to you 
without cuddling a pillow and 
that I want our lives less complicated.
Trees and the rain told me you belong here, and you just do not know it yet

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Navigare

My father is a fisherman, 
always making sure that the bow and the stern are tied. 
"The anchor should not rest on the sandy sea floor but on rocks."
"The ship should be positioned into the waves; 
do not let them roll you as there is no such thing as a gentle roll. "
Navigare… 
“Prova… Krma… vigaj…sinistra… destra… “
Navigare… 
I steered my ship with the waves, 
them rolling me and lulling me to sleep, 
thinking I was safe, 
I only had one anchor at the prow 
and it was on the sandy sea floor.
 I did not know I was in the midst of the storm, 
and that my reality was already scattered 
into dust by the strong northern wind. 
Navigare…
I did not heed the lesson from the fisherman.
Now partly rebuilt, reshaped full of cracks and scars, 
I cast anchors, 
from the bow and the stern, 
and from the port and the starboard 
keeping my precious cargo safe.  
Navigare…
I have a bucket of pine sap to fix the cracks, that with 
a strong smell bringing back my childhood amongst the pine trees. 
I have a binary pair of stars 
at the center of my universe I use to navigate. 
My ores are broken and dented 
but they still row against the waves. 
Navigare…
Walking barefoot on salty wooden planks, 
I look for movement and balance. 
The wind is my brother and rain is my sister 
that soothe and steer my heart.
My cargo is safe… Navigare…
My cargo is safe… Navigare…
My cargo is safe… Navigare…

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

1 In Effiing 4

God is a effing sadist, they are not the love, nor the truth or nor the light. 
God is a cursed, twisted, cruel and uncaring being, as they watched it happen and have not stopped it. 
Some days rain is too much, as I listen to echoes of memories of my children's destruction.
I am left with memories scattered in the night sky as stars blinking, coming to the surface and disappearing fast.  Each scream tears me to shreds.
Little hands tie the colorful ribbons to the loud fence, still broken by the sins of their father.

They say that the body keeps the score, 
There are 4 bodies who keep the score and not one of you gives a .

Little girl curls mortified against the wall screaming “DDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Little mouth screams not wanting to die, as they see ghosts.
Little girl reenacts everything, keeping secrets.
Little girl arranges toy animals into explicit positions.
Little girl gets frozen, unable to move, speak or react, body is just a shell.
Little girl forgot how to get dressed.
Little girl is scared of windows.
Little girl asks how that the house has shrunk and how that she is so tall.
Little girl soils herself.
Little girl vomits in fear.
Little girl cuts herself and calmly, without uttering a sound watches the blood drip.

I hold a little girl who is trying to grab the knife to end it all, no one gives a damn.
“I am sorry statistically 8 year olds do not kill themselves” says voice on the end of line.

There is a mortified 4 year old in a 10 year olds body.
There is a mortified 4 year old in an 8 year olds body.
Little girls tell their secrets to their wolves.

GOD IS EFFING SADIST
and the rest of you just conveniently sweep it under the carpet as it is not comfortable to see.
1 in ing 4!!

Details | Rubi Ace Poem

Beyond the Rainbows

Most beautiful things are born out of pain and suffering
As I hugged the tree, 
it embraced me tightly back pulling 
all shards scattered and lost over the years together
Telling me you would be the glue
And you watched me put myself back up, revealing the true self

On our first date you kissed 
the broken, 
the shards, 
you embraced the gaps and would not let go 
- holding me together
cold river washed over us
 and it did not matter we jumped with both feet in
washing away the dust, mud and ashes from embers 
from ruins that once were

The turquoise of the sky with the gold of the earth 
glittered in sunlight and became my favorite view
The nod of the ancestors from beyond rainbows, fluffy clouds and unicorns