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Best Poems Written by Erica Mercado

Below are the all-time best Erica Mercado poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Truth

BEFORE I START THIS IS A REVERSE POEM SO PLEASE READ IT FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN WHEN YOU FINISH READ IT BOTTOM TO TOP. I UNDERSTAND THIS IS A HIGHLY CONTROVERSIAL TOPIC BUT NO ONE WANTS TO WRITE ABOUT THE HARSH REALITIES OF WHAT SOME PEOPLE THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS. IN MY OPINION PEOPLE WERE BORN HOW THEY WERE MEANT TO LIVE SO I AM ALL FOR LGBT COMMUNITY. IF YOU ARE NOT...SUCKS TO BE YOU. KEEP YOUR OPINION TO YOURSELF.

Thank you, on with the poem.

He, is a girl.
She, is a boy.
But.
It isnt right.
And they say
They were born that way
But they arent!
They're sick.
They're wrong.
They say 
No one can just accept how they are.
He wears dresses.
She plays football.
People just can't see the truth.
Until, you look at it in reverse.

Now read this poem from bottom to top starting from second to last line!

Details | Erica Mercado Poem

Feral Child

He was a Feral child.
Raised by wolves which made him wild.
Howling at the moon and sleeping in caves.
Watching the towns people digging his grave.

See, they thought he was dead.
He was young when he fled.
Because of his ignorant mother and father.
They had always said he was ungrateful, making him believe he was a bother.

So he cleared his shelve.
At the age of twelve.
And traveled to the top of a cliff.
But he saw some wolves and his things fell as they came to him for a sniff.

Now, the towns people had found his things.
And believed he was an angel who had earned his wings.
So they announced the poor death of the fairly young boy.
Which made his parents jump with joy.

But he was really in the caves.
Sleeping and dreaming of the waves.
And he felt like a bird who could finally fly.
He believed he would soon take off into the sky.

But no, the child remained in his cave.
With the wolves by his side who taught him to obey.
And he lived in peaceful ferality.
No longer awaiting his dreaded fatality


(This isnt very good but Im obsessed with Feral Children soooo)(Thats sounded kinda creepy)

Details | Erica Mercado Poem

I'D Rather Be

Let them be the sun.
Optimistic rays of sunshine
Shining upon giddy children
As they play in the park

I'd rather be the rain.
Pessimistic drops of water
Making children from of dissapointment
As they watch raindrops race down their windowpane

To be able to give a droughting town hope
To cool the burning bodies of children
To stop the thirst of a city
To save the lifes of millions
Making the moon and sea meet
As I would join the ocean and rise with it
Feeling the current touch the stars
And making a tidal wave hold hands with the planets.

So I would let them be the sun.
So on a hot sunny day
Parents can pull in their sun-burnt children and warn them about their harmful rays.

And I, the rain.
Would wash away the sweat, blood and tears.
And I would look down at the children dancing.
And I would watch the couple kiss under me.
So, I would rather be the rain.

Because After the rain.
We all get to see a rainbow.

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What I Dream For

I dream to help those in need.
I dream to give those who have nothing, something.
To teach the uneducated.
To warn the unsupervised.
That's what I'll live for.

I dream to show kids how to live.
I dream to show kids how to survive.
Like Annie Sullivan.
Showing someone who couldnt do anything, the meaning of life.
That's what I'll hope for.

I dream to teach kids right from wrong.
I dream to tell kids they have potential.
Kids saying no to drugs will be cooler.
That peer pressure will truly be a disgrace.
That's what I'll plead for.

I dream to make kids aware that they arent useless.
I dream to stop the abuse caused by themselves and others.
To stop the sorrow from another teen suicide.
To show them how much they have to live for.
That's what I'll dream for.

Details | Erica Mercado Poem

Walking For the Poor Woman

Every day you walk down town and smile as you get to that bench
You see her in the same old spot, she sits there every week
She plays a song, while her children dance
And you listen as tells you stories about romance

You walk down town with your spare change and smile as you get to the bench
You see her children wrapped in blankets that you know she probably sewed
And it's December so its chilly and your hands are really cold
But you watch her play on her guitar 
And you watch her fingers strum it gently
And you smile as her hoarse voice sings a song
You throw your change into her worn out and chipped guitar case
And you grin as she smiles and blesses your heart

You walk down town with your camera and you smile as you get to the bench
You see her children fanning themselves off and laying on the cool cement int the shade
Its May and its hot and you frown at your peeling sun burn but you stay to hear her song
She strums on her guitar skillfully and her gritty voice projects loudly
You snap some pictures of her and her kids with your Polaroid and you watch them develop and you give them to her 
You notice how she keeps coughing and sniffling but you say nothing and put your usual amount of change in the case
And just smile as she blesses your heart

You walk down town with your coffee and smile as you get to the bench
You don't see the woman but you see her children cry
You see them as they pack her guitar in its case for ever
You see them as they collect the spare change they have left
You see them as they fold up the blankets she sewed 
You see them look at the Polaroid picture of them you gave her 
You know what happened and you give them all your money
And you smile as they bless your heart just like their mother used to

As you walk back home you cant shake out the realization in your head
That you've been walking for the poor woman