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Best Poems Written by Chilio Ficcioli

Below are the all-time best Chilio Ficcioli poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

A Forgotten time

 There I am, sitting upright on this forsaken bed.
 The moon has just come into view, and something bright yet
 out of reach is what I see, and right away I make a wish.


 A wish to be sent back to a time that has been rejected.
 To open my eyes and find myself at furthest corners of the countryside.
 A place where only the subtle breeze of the wind can be heard,
 and as a consequence, silence has gained a voice.


 The sound of leaves rustling hit my ears, as I am lying upon a bed
 of flowers in the meadows, watching the sunrise
 in the early morning.


 When the sun sets, I gaze at a butterfly as it lands on my finger
 and I close my eyes to hear the birds chirping.


 However, my wish finally ends and I hear laughter across the hallway,
 only to see a hearty meal waiting for me, with people I can call home.
 Though the place may not be the one that was desired,
 the company was the one that was wholeheartedly acquired.


Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025



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DIVERSITY OF NATURAL BEAUTY

        This motion is remembered with feelings of pain, strife and anguish,
              But why don’t we recall the beauty in which we now relish.
    The movement of ‘Black lives matter’ is as tantamount as the rising of the   
                                       sun in the morning,
                   Both are essential, yet they both be overlooked. 


               The beauty in our diversity is derived from our tenacity,
              Unique our color be, yet subtle our strength be perceived,
         The alluring aspect is not who we are, but who we have become.
     Silenced our voice be alone, even so, they do not want to mess with our                      
                                        simultaneous tone. 


       Quiet we be no more, for there is true beauty in we the overlooked.
     We have come to be the voices that are now heard, as charming as the        
                                            sea unperturbed.
    Undisturbed we have Finally come to be, however brethren, ask yourselves      
                                            who we truly are. 


               I BELEVE WE ARE LOST PIECES OF THE SAME PUZZEL,
                                  ALONE WE GO UNNOTICED,
               BUT TOGETHER WE BE AS THREATENING AS A CLOSED FIST.


Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025

Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

I’m Never Right



             Oh, I ask, is it my appearance or rather to say my looks,
              Or is it my stature that has gone according to the book.
                           I wonder if it’s my age or demeanor,
                    that has made older people so much meaner.



                             I call upon my brethren and I ask,
         is not this rule that was placed upon our mentality such a burden.
                              Many our age overlook this rule,
                 and their new best friend ends up being a warden.



                        Now I never know if I’m truly wrong or right,
       because thou answer of an oldster always makes them look like a knight.
                          They infinitely compare us to one another,
                          not knowing how it’s so much of a bother.



                                Hold on to reality a little longer,
                         and do not let man become your enemy.
           For we don't have all eternity to confine all these things internally.
              They are just exclusive weapons to bring about our downfall.


Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025

Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

The sensation is so grey

                      

     


                           Reality seems to be drawing near, 

            and for some I can't help but feel as if I'm being overcome by 
                                 an incomprehensible fear. 

                        I try to recall a memory of sovereignty, 
                but every time I try, it's as if I'm committing a felony.

Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025

Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

It’s always been yours


  I sometimes wonder if the path I was meant to take was predetermined,
  was the word destiny birthed to be my hopeless shackles.
  The person I am is a result of what’s around me,
  but you would never really know what truly arouses me. 


  I take a step back and I genuinely start to wonder if this is who 
  I was always meant to be.
  I find myself going back to a time when my fate wasn’t set in stone,
  the outcome could not be avoided,
  it reminded me of a dog humbly trying to resist a bone.


  Foresight has never been my mate,
  one setback always makes me hesitate.
  We all seem to want to go towards the laid out destination,
  which is laughable, because our innate trait has always been 
  self preservation.


  I reminisce back to when I thought nothing was impossible,
  back to a time when I could freely be a pacifist,
  but I have to fight,
  because fate is the only true philosophy.
  No matter how unfair fate may seem, it isn’t in any way mythological,
  otherwise that would simply be hypocrisy.

Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025



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My spectacular prison


                          My prison is a place known all to well.
                    It brings joy to some and holds terror for most.
                    The air becomes heavy as I am forced to listen,
                 and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was declared treason.
                        the opportunities keep on getting cooler,
         but the techniques that are used have always been quite peculiar. 


                         I begin to ponder if it’s indirect torture,
                           taking its course gradually over time.
                        I wish that I could resurrect my euphoria,
       even so, I have to return annually and I have no choice but to keep this                    
                                              nostalgia.


           All I can think about upon entering those gates is my downfall.
       In spite of that, all I want to hear at the end of the year is a drumroll.
                     I’m well aware that it’s true and good for me,
                          however, it doesn’t hold a good tune,
                  Oh how I wish it could have been a better melody.


Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025

Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

This feeling

 Spectacular being called love,
 are you my destiny or my adversary
 I have come to learn that you are a fiend,
 for you take hearts and advertise them to forever be apart.


 I once thought that you were among the stars, almost impossible to obtain,
 and when I finally reached you it’s as if I knew that it was already too late.
 Days, weeks, months and years were spent thinking you were a friend,
 but all it ended in were tears,
 because you were nothing but pretense. 


 At first, I thought I had butterflies, yet all you were was a sweet and terrible   
 lullaby.
 You were once so terrifying, but that feeling was indominable,
 now I can see that you are truly abominable.


 So, answer me, being called love,
 are you still my destiny or are you my adversary,
 do you choose to appeal or will you atone.


 This feeling does nothing but reel me in when I was supposed to be levitated.
 Goodbye devious trickster, the time of idiocy has been lost,
 now I will never fall for your picture again.

Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025

Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

The World


                         This world is a home to many creatures,
                           big and small, and it is a pitiful place
                         known all to well for its unsightly brawl.
                              Corrupt I have seen it become,
                             even so, I wish I had seen it begun.


                A question I ask myself, was it really an amazing place,
        and if so, maybe I would like to know what brought about its disgrace.
                     Multitudes of problems are faced by you and I.
                               Nevertheless, a question remains,
                              what’s the point if I’m fated to die.


                         There is so much more to be and to see,
               yet a feeling lingers, telling me it’s not what’s meant to be.
                         We have the whole cosmos to explore,
                       regrettably an ill fate is waiting to be bore.


                           How we have waited and now we see,
                     with the time, there can never be an escapee.
                 The hands of the clock are coming to a halt my friend,
                             and you still haven’t asked yourself,
                                      IS IT TRULY THE END?

Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025

Details | Chilio Ficcioli Poem

Who am I, or, What am I?


        We're most spontaneous for the recognition we require from others,
                 Known for the masks we equip from day to day life.


                           The struggle has become so fierce,
                   to the point that I cannot determine who I am,
    the mask has been worn for so long and now I can’t determine what I am.


                                I think I’ve become a fiend,
                    the kind of beast that never reveals its teeth.
        It has been so long with time and with how I have worn my cover.
      That it even seems like I am in a hidden affair with my so called lover.


                        Who am I? I am believed to be a friend.
                       What am I? I now know that I’m your end.
                         Dive under and envision my personality, 
                          and see how I’ve been destined to be.


                     Everyone really is dazzling in their own way,
         we all celebrate our individuality even though it might be grey.
        True beauty is in the unseen, no mask, no cover, and no disarray. 

Copyright © Chilio Ficcioli | Year Posted 2025


Book: Reflection on the Important Things