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Best Poems Written by Suzanne Arbil

Below are the all-time best Suzanne Arbil poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Time Management

TIME MANAGEMENT 

I did a jig when I was small
When he told me to dance.

He’d clap his hands,
Small thick hands,
Breakfast sausage fingers,
Clean, white-moony fingernails,
Against my soft-sided hide,
Made suede from his leather 
Of depravity and shame

They made a lot of noise,
Those clapping hands, and
With a red face, red nose, 
His red eyes veined with lies
And vodka, would 
Draw up at the corners in a
Half leer, half killer’s smile
So sly - he knew he had me;

He’d not be found out.
‘Twas just biding his time.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

What Time Is It?

WHAT TIME IS IT?

A shadow crosses my mind
And stops.
An old familiar figure
Sent to me in this place
From memories
Long ago forgotten.

A lonely basket
Of a girl with no age
In a room crying the long,
Hollow tears of some
Deep and dolorous sorrow.
Infinite and wide —
A million years of 
Reflections of relics — 
Stone slab burdens
Rush at me, draw me.

I go to her and touch her sleeve.
Deliberate, slow — 
She turns to reveal me a face
And I’m slammed and assaulted;
Helpless to know my
Barest mirror.
A contorting face,
Dizzying in its madman
Slide show of pains,
Featured frame after frame
Of hurts hooked to hurt 
Played on a wall
Whose eyes streamed
Rivers of tears.

Too much, too much —
It held me idiot captive, a
Helpless prisoner of her face.
Feet hammered and secured
By Christ stakes,
I stood root of the earth —
A neglected garden’s
Tough old abandoned beet.
Weighing of Everest rock times three.
Knowing the tears,
I lived again each memory
Through her face,
Becoming carrier and bearer
As they wormed back inside,
Claiming me owner and
Demanding response.

The eyes lost me
And absorbed me:
They swallowed me up inside,
Jolting God-strong currents of scare
Straight through me — 
Their wide sadness of hope
Too needy of reassurance.

Tethering sour screams within me,
I set to take leave of this place — 
Longing to be star once more
Of my ten-thousand scenes,
Performer again in safe, cloaked
And hooded acts called Normalcy.
I left her as she was,
Gifting no promise or pact — 
My own eyes closed to her difference — 
I moved to go back to my theater,
Running far, far away.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Ayla at Two

Ayla at Two

With a fistful of raisins and
Chocolate-flavored goatee,
Your favorite Dora tee shirt
Splotched red from your spaghetti lunch,
We sit on the floor together as
You climb on up for a quick fix of Mommy,
A moment of squeeze, 
And I gather you up 
As you tell of something wonderful 
In your lovely language of syllabic sound and
I tell you I know
Because I do. 
You smile at me then, 
Your grin like the wedge of a tangerine, 
Sweet and juicy and 
Pretty enough to eat, so I do. 
I gobble you up until 
You scramble away giggling, 
Sated for the moment, 
Busy feet wandering on 
To other happenstance and adventure.
Tireless fingers, 
Testing, trying, 
Reckoning your world within the 
Workings of a brand-new beguiling toy. 
Your sunny, funny little face, 
Scrunched up in concentration
Until you get it, 
And you laugh your jingle-bell laugh, 
Rejoicing in doing it, 
Getting it, mastering it, 
Mistress of the World at last. 
You say, “Look, Mommy! See, Mommy!”
(Your conquest only real if Mommy sees.) 
But with the swiftness of infancy, 
You suddenly wail and cry out loud 
When you couldn’t get it to go again,
It stopped without reason or repose. 
So, I scoop you up,
The second time in as many breath-beats
And my heart swells,
Too big for the space it’s allotted because 
Knowing I, too, need the consolation, 
You gently pat my back as I hold you,
Head on my shoulder, 
Tears abated for now,
And after a time of 
Rocking and swaying you say, 
“I wuf you, Mommy,”
And the moment turns 
Perfection into itself, 
Immaculate, 
As it boasts its way 
Through us, 
Bursting in the center of 
Our one heart.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Im Like an Instant Pot

I’M LIKE AN INSTANT POT

I’m like an Instant Pot.

We’re both big and bold.
Heavier than we should be
Fussier than we need be
Neither of us should ever 
Sit on the kitchen counter 
When not in use.

Our metallic armor,
Fitted seamlessly, 
tight and wide around the waist
Hard to keep that much armor shiny
So I don’t try to very often.

We each have different 
temperatures,
we operate that way.?Different temperatures
deliver variable output

We both even hiss!
, 
Beware the danger of getting it wrong,
Pushing the wrong button,
For it is the user who chooses 
How far to turn the knob
How much heat to Render,
For success and bounty
As a temp too great or too small could
Ruin inside us, each.

Operate us incorrectly and we’ll
Explode all over you

When guidelines are taken
Seriously,
Pamphlets and fine print read,
we can both be tricky about 
Unfollowed rules.
When you don’t know our laws
Of operation
Our innards could easily 
turn to mush
Unrecognizable, inedible,
Salty.

Be reluctant to turn the knob too much.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

A Poets Prerogative

A POET’S PREROGATIVE
 
We right our souls as we
Write our souls because we must,
 
Or like confetti, the words'll bust
Out from us willy-nilly, and
 
Poets cannot let words simply sully out,
Cannot scatter and strew them about,
 
Without some kind of form
(Even formless forms like this need be).
 
And somehow we get it there,
Intentionally, we put it there,
 
For all the cosmos and universe to see.
Sharpied permanent on the Internet,
 
Our works, our marrow, the
Underbelly passage to our innards, the
 
Dark and dank and dolorous in us, the
Sun and star and silly in us, the
 
Topic of the day in us, we
Contest for cash and credit, and
 
Kilos of kudos to the winner.
But, not really all the truth, I suppose,
 
We have no control over the prose,
Center stage, exposed.
 
Red and raw and real -
Poets write to right our souls,
 
And no competition there;
We've, each of us, already won.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Jesus Lessons

JESUS LESSONS

When I was little I would cry out to my mama
‘Bout skinned up knees things unfair
Up on her lap I’d find my comfort,
Learned my first Jesus lessons there.
She would tell me
Remember that your Father loves you,
He walks beside you every day.
Turn your face to His glory
When everything’s not going your way.
The enemy is out to get you,
The enemy, he wants your soul
Listen Baby, to your mama’s warning
Don’t forget who’s in control.
Jesus is in control.

A little older, I still cried out to my mama
‘Bout fights with friends who done me wrong
She’d hold me tight, listen to my drama
And remind me that only with Him am I strong.

All grown up, still crying to my mama
‘Bout broken hearts and bygone dreams,
She’d listen kindly, with eyes full of love
Gently reminding me that only Jesus redeems.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

You me she and she

you, me, she and she

love is us, the four of us,
you, me, she and she.
it is the way we bust out
in spontaneous dance moves
in the middle of our living room
when our fam-fave beat comes on
and we turn the stereo way up too loud
and you do your dorky daddy dance for us
because it makes us laugh so hard we have to stop
and wipe our eyes, double over, hold our tummies.
and I show off old moves because I have rhythm, and
older she does teenaged turns of crazy control
while younger she is a nine-year-old free for all,
four smiley faces dancing in our circle 
lost in the beat of the song, the
beating of our one heart.
life is us, the four of us.
you and me, she and she.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Reconciled

RECONCILED

I’ve stumbled in my walk with You
Grumbled when I’ve talked to You,
Ambled steps away from You,
Humbled, now I pray to You.

Jesus! 
I don’t deserve Your grace!
Hard to look upon Your face,
Knowing what You’ve done to erase
The black from my heart.
Jesus!
I don’t deserve Your love!
These unearned blessings from above,
God touched you with His pure white dove
So we’d know You are His heart.

I’ve walked away when You’ve come through,
I balked away the Bible’s truth,
Ignored the seeds You’d sown in me,
Got tossed around a violent sea - 

Forgive me, Lord, please set me free!

So right now I come to You,
On my knees to worship You!
Cause through Your blood I’m made anew,
All my life I’ll strive for You!

Thank You, Lord, I feel Your hand, 
Upon my life, in Your command.
I will do what You demand:
Follow your Word, pursue Your plan.

Help me, Father, the rest of the way,
You are the sculptor, I am the clay,
Form me into what You will
Help me know You! Increase my fill!

Jesus! 
I praise You for Your grace!
I can look upon Your face,
Knowing Your power has erased
The soot from my heart.
Jesus!
I stand in awe of Your love!
Tilt my face to you above, 
And know when push comes to shove
You live in my heart.

And in these days as I grow old,
It’s Your Word that takes ahold,
Inside my heart, inside my soul,
Your promises have made me whole.

So when I see You on that day,
I’ll know it’s You, Lord, I’ll know the way,
I’ve heard Your voice, I am Your child,
Finally come to You, reconciled.



Suzanne L. Arbil
April 2019
Walnut Creek, CA

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Emmas Smile

Emma’s Smile

He picked her up the other day
And from the window, peeking out of the blinds,
I watched them traipse down the driveway

Practically skipping, arms around each other,
Happiness bubbling from their feet,
Somersault energy fuses them.

At the bottom of the driveway
On their way late for something
They stopped for a few breath-beats
And hugged anyway.

Emma laid her head on his shoulder,
Eyes closed as if in relief,
He wrapped her tight around, too, and
They fit.

They stood still for some moments 
Holding close,
One to the other, the same.

Emma leaned back to tell him, then,
Some funny little thing and
She beamed.
She smiled up at him with 
Truth and
Youth and 
Trust and

The sun smiled on her face
In an accident of perfect light, putting
Diamonds in her eyes and 
Reality in check and
I knew then;
My girl would know love.

Details | Suzanne Arbil Poem

Poisons

POISONS

Boldly betrayed by my body
It came so fast
Poison coursing through my veins,
My Source, my Self,
Frightening and sure, traveling it’s way
Through me, 
Out to get me from my Life,
Taking my blood and twisting ugly 
Mutations into unfathomable letters,
Indecipherable Latin words,
No longer my lifeblood
But an enemy who has no use for 
Life and cleanliness and health
Lauding power over my Will.

Next, an oxymoronic healing poison
Is injected directly into my Source,
Destroying all and everything in its wake
Unable to take into account the 
Character of its red and white victims - 
Good, bad or indifferent -
It kills without point or prejudice,
Intentional serial murders with 
Fragile tentative plans for 
Redemption and regrowth,
It tires me with its vehemence.

It is so exhausting is to wake up and have 
Nothing but confusion and hope
As catalysts for breathing and taking in 
The mysterious days ahead.