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Best Poems Written by Sara Ponferrada

Below are the all-time best Sara Ponferrada poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

The Lights

I am going to see the lights.
The glow of the city will make a perfect backdrop to the painting I am envisioning.
Far enough away to see the twinkle of headlights and the shine of skyscrapers, but hear complete silence.
No hustle and bustle.
No commotion from pedestrians.
Just the wind hitting against my windows.
The sound of my breath ricochets inside my ear canals as I prepare myself to begin.
I have my canvas ready, tools in hand.

This is going to be beautiful,
I promise.

I turn on the radio to listen to my favorite songs for the last time.
I hum along, staring at the city miles away.
The stars shimmer and beam off the pavement below me adding some foreground to my painting.
“It’ll be okay” I recite in my head over and over and over again.

This is going to be beautiful,
I promise.

My phone is continuously buzzing in the seat next to me.
They simply aren’t ready to see such an exquisite work of art.
I’ve been conjuring up the plan for hours. No space left in my mind for anything else.
This must be perfect. This will define me.
The body position, the clothing, the setting, the light source, the tools I’m meant to use,
everything must be perfect.

This is going to be beautiful,
I promise.

I open the book I brought along with me.
One filled with self-help quotes and poems about feeling at your lowest but you must persevere! And a whole bunch of “everything is going to be fine”s.
The words on the page bounce up and mock me as I rip them from the spine and scatter the scraps at my feet.
Tears well up in my eyes, causing the lights to become stringy and disoriented.
I slap them away and pick up my tools.
I am all set this time.

This is going to be beautiful,
I promise.

I crack open a cold can of soda, I saved my favorite for last.
I open the bottle and take one pill at a time,
One, two, three…
I pick up the knife and hold it to my jugular,
the city reflecting off of it onto the skin of my neck,
One, two, three…

This is going to be beautiful,
I promise.

However, the white glow from the skyline transforms into a harsh red and blue.
My heart sinks.
“Are you okay?” He asks from his window.
I stay still as he says,
“You are safe now,”

“I promise.”

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

Just Like You

I met someone who looked just like you.
The same brown eyes, set back enough to make out the outlines of your orbital bones.
The same smile lines that house years of laughter, joy, and perfectly frame your grin.
The same nose that harbors several insecurities, but is perceived as beautiful through my gaze.
She looked just like you.
Her voice was clearly different from yours.
Yours soothed me in the times I needed to hear you. It became my favorite song.
Her stature varied from yours.
You towered over me, but I felt colossal in your world.
Her scent was dissimilar.
Yours encased memories I would give anything to live again for the first time.
She looked just like you.
I will likely never see her again, like I won’t see you.
Both figures dissipating into a life that has no place for me. Walking along paths that won’t cross with mine.
I find peace in knowing that you are following the trail created for you. As I am doing the same.

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

I Gifted My Nephew a Book

I gifted my nephew a book.

He’s going to admire the colors and the happy faces inside
while the words are read to him by someone more senior.
He will point out the pumpkins, the kittens, the rainbows
and smile ear to ear with excitement and laughter.
He will reach out to turn the cardboard pages
before the sentence is even finished.
He will bounce up and down on the lap of the reader
while it gets closer and closer to the end.

I gifted my nephew a book.

One about how he’s the apple of my eye, the stars in my sky, the pumpkin to my pie.
One about how I will be with him always.
That our lives are forever intertwined.
His purity is admirable. 
He embraces the rain, he sees no gray.
His innocence is peaceful
as he can sniff out what is true and avoid what is not.
His naivety is blissful
as he associates me with love and play, comfort and care.
He knows nothing within the deeper levels of my being,
but he still loves me.

I gifted my nephew a book.
A promise to him that I will be by his side, endlessly.

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

The Finish Line

I’m on my knees, hands clasped together under my chin.
He’s standing above me, looking down to meet my gaze. The look of concern washing over him.
We’re so close you can almost see the heat from my body bouncing off his.
The only thing separating us is a red line on the floor below me. Millimeters from making contact with my skin.
I look both ways, but the line has no end. It stretches out and fades into the unknown fog representing infinity.
“Why can’t I cross the finish line?” I plead with the man above.
My skin showing blue and black splotches, cuts new and old, blood clotting on the soles of my feet.
I have fought, clawed, and muscled my way to this red line. But why does he stand here, obstructing my path?
In the corners of my eyes I see proud runners hopping over the line, pumping their fists with victory, then hunching over, gasping for air with relief that their race has ended.
His stance never wavered. He is more relaxed than ever.
I beg. My effort has gone void.
But he knows.
I cut through the paths. I wanted to win. I wanted the race to be over, I hadn’t known what I signed up for. The pain was unbearable.
But he knows.
I missed key steps, scenery I was supposed to marvel in on the way. I ran a race that people were strolling through.
I cheated myself.
My eyes must be telling him what had known all along.
He crouches to meet me at eye level.
“Don’t run this time. Breathe in the air I’ve provided. Look at the mountains I’ve created. Admire the path I’ve built for you.”

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

The After

How can you grieve someone who has never died?
You grieve the memories you shared, the sound of their voice, the warmth you felt in the comfort of their presence.
However now, the feelings no longer have a destination.
They linger in the air like mist.
Breathed in by the atmosphere and soon cover you in a blanket of rain.
Each drop weighing more than the last.
As it goes from a drizzle to a shower,
from a shower to a storm,
the wind knocks you off your feet, 
stealing the breath from your lungs.
You sit back in awe at the hurricane that has emerged, accepting the damage since there is nothing else to do
but wait.
You lose hope, but fight to keep your composure.
Debris cuts skin, breaks bone.
But your patience allows you to enter the eye of the storm.
Where faith is visible via the sun rays tearing through the clouds. 
The light hitting your skin brings you back to life
enough to envision the after.

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Allow Me To Be Your Mirror

I see the beauty that you cannot see.
The perfection I notice embraces your flaws.
Emphasizes the character behind your eyes,
encased inside the four walls of your concrete castle.
I see the love you have for others,
passion you want to share.
I see your bravery and perseverance,
trauma planting daisy seeds.
I see the beauty that you cannot see.
Please, allow me to be your mirror.
Look at yourself like I would see you.
Hold yourself like I would hold you.
Love yourself like I would love you.

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All I Do Is Miss You

Your hands on me felt natural,
like our skin was meant to touch.
Our contours fit like puzzle pieces,
My heart had felt too much.

I studied your face,
like a painting signed by God.
I felt like you loved me.
It somehow was a facade.

I want to feel that way again,
I want that only with you.
But you don’t wish to see me,
you thought we were taboo.

I wish to hear your voice,
that it would become my alarm.
That I would knock my walls down,
comfortable to disarm.

Since then I haven’t seen you,
since the day we shared a kiss.
I’ll forever wish you loved me,
now I simply reminisce.

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

Rock Bottom

Best not to be loved widely but deeply.
Not by peers but within oneself.
Love so deeply, down to the warmest part of the Earth’s core.
Rock Bottom.
Pressure so strong, darkness penetrates.
Breaks through the chest, sharpest pain.
Love so deeply, break through the chains.
Climb the stairs from floor to ceiling.
Seconds feel like hours.
Hours feel like days.
But to love so deeply, is to charge through that pain
from the Earth’s core to stars outside the atmosphere
from warm to cold
now from deep to wide
from Rock Bottom to whatever happiness looks like.

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

Acrylic

I take a step back and look at my canvas with inches of acrylic paint piled on as a result of trial and error.
Something is off. 
Are the tones mismatched?
Why is it unbalanced?
Do I no longer like the subject matter?
I bite at my nails, I bounce my leg, my eyes dart from corner to corner.
Did I do something wrong?
I inhale and fixate on my palette.
Charcoal Gray, Crimson Red, Canary Yellow.
Beautiful, but wrong to me.
My hands open and the colors drop to the floor.
I rummage through the additional shades and pull out the one that is identical to the canvas.
The canvas I haven’t seen in years. The canvas riddled with subjective mistakes. The canvas that endured a lifetime of experimentation.
I untwist the cap, dip the brush directly inside, and slather the canvas.
Though the acrylic grew thicker and the texture of my previous strokes remained,
I was starting new.

Details | Sara Ponferrada Poem

I'll Forever Wish You Loved Me

I’ll forever wish you loved me.
That I was the one you held at night.
That you would tell me that I was pretty.
That you would call me baby.

I’ll forever wish you loved me.
That I could wake to the sound of your voice.
That you would kiss me goodbye.
That you would call me baby.

I’ll forever wish you loved me.
That you’d wipe my tears when I cry.
That you’d hold my hand while I catch my breath.
That you would call me baby.

I’ll forever wish you loved me.
That I could watch your dreams come true.
That you’d sing my favorite songs in the car.
That you would call me baby.