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Liza Ortiz Poem
we write as if it is our last night
we write whether it be with lead or ink or typed
we write alone or in a crowded environment
we write come rain or sunshine
we write because we want our stories to be told
we write through every phase; it is universal
we write even if our voice is never heard
we write when we are loved and when all hope is lost
we write regardless of our social class
we write because it feels wrong to stop
we write because it helps connect us
we write because we are all writers at heart
we write until our last breath on earth
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2024
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Liza Ortiz Poem
My new shoes came in today.
After what felt like a hundred months of waiting.
They were just sitting there, anticipating—
looking forward to all the new adventures
and traveling.
I could not wait to put them on.
But first, I had to
stop escaping.
From my past.
From certain people and places.
So I walked barefoot for a bit—
felt the grass and dirt between my toes
while stretching.
I kept going until I saw something.
There were my old pair of shoes
at the side of this bridge.
Never realized how torn and tattered
they had become.
Why did I wear those for so long?
They had holes in the soles,
and the rest was barely staying in place.
I was glad to say farewell
as I tossed them in a nearby trash bin.
I then washed my feet
in the pond underneath the bridge,
then happily ran across
to meet my new pair.
They were so soft and comfortable
as I put them on.
Perfect balance—
I even felt taller.
Amazing what happens
when shoes come in at the right moment.
Like a guide through the journey
of life,
love,
and every transition.
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2025
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Liza Ortiz Poem
As I walked around this rusted mobile home park on a cold December night, with unpaved roads and the usual strays nowhere in sight.
I stopped to look up at the beautiful moonlight.
It was a large full moon with a lonely star nearby.
Seemed strange that no other stars were out in this clear night sky.
That single one did however shine ever so bright.
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2024
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Liza Ortiz Poem
I hear the sound of clanging and banging from a distant source
Like an orchestra of metal pots that have fallen on the kitchen floor
which brings a ringing to my inner ear
then a low vibration comes as I stand still
This frequency happens frequently
transmitting a language I've yet to unveil
Creating a magnetic peace during its stay
One day I hope to understand the meaning behind it all
A tale probably woven over a thousand years
I hear the sound and listen in
The tone goes away just as mysterious as it came
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2025
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Liza Ortiz Poem
Have these lost flames been found?
Am I fire? Am I the scorching sun?
I am not like them.
They are Earth and Water—rooted, fluid.
But I thrive in heat and wind.
My temperature climbs as my temper flares,
especially when I witness harm and injustice.
I want to burn this corrupt world down.
I am not like them.
Is there a safe word to hold me back?
Once the flames awaken, can I control their path?
To destroy the old, to clear the way—
for something whole, something new.
Golden light ignites, bringing warmth and joy.
Is it almost time for this force to rise?
I hope so.
I am not like them.
They want to keep things going as they are,
even when it is not working.
I want to bring change to pass.
I want to start an uprising,
to bring a better life.
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2025
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Liza Ortiz Poem
Life as a game—
to fight,
to stay,
to choose not to play.
To learn,
or just run away.
To get ahead,
maybe carve my own way.
How will I reinvent myself today?
Should I keep going this way?
Days filled with challenges,
hard to know which way to sway.
Some worth it.
Some nearly broke me.
Still, I stay in the game.
Allow me a moment
to process these emotions
till death comes knocking—
no other choice
but to play.
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2026
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Liza Ortiz Poem
The day the dam finally cracked.
It sounded like a loud boom followed by several snaps.
In the distance, a warning siren.
Then there was a hurricane-like sound of water crashing through metal pipes.
I was home, unbothered when it happened, taking a long-needed nap.
This did not surprise me; after years of warnings that fell on deaf ears, harsh remarks, and side-eye glances.
Myself and the 300 did our best, but grew tired of cleaning up others' messes.
Patching daily holes, coming up with ways to make this dam stronger for the next generation.
Of course, it did not last, with many throwing stones and other sharp objects.
Breaking the mold.
Hate and violence — it simply could not hold.
So as the waters rushed into my home,
I simply let it take me under, closed my eyes for one last time.
Inwardly, I thanked the Lord with a smile.
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2026
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Liza Ortiz Poem
I am in that in-between space
where nothing matters
yet everything does.
So much noise around me
while something quietly died inside.
Is it a magnetic frequency?
Misplaced energy?
Not to speak in codes—
I simply do not know anymore.
Surrounded by many,
yet still lonely.
Never truly understood.
No support from anyone.
Are we alone in this universe?
Do we pray to a God who does not exist,
or one who chooses not to listen?
Sometimes
I feel like a broken-winged Pegasus.
Will my wing ever mend?
Will I ever fly from this cliff—
to admire the stars
as the calming wind touches my face,
soaring higher
while the valley grows smaller below?
Tears run to my lips
as I watch the sun setting,
feeling the warmth of its fading glow.
At least that is what I imagined
for a wounded warrior
praying for days
of peaceful existence.
I still wonder—
will it have
a happy ending?
Copyright © Liza Ortiz | Year Posted 2026
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