Home » Poems » Best » Victoria Rosales » Best Victoria Rosales Poems

Best Poems Written by Victoria Rosales

Below are the all-time best Victoria Rosales poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Unwanted Shadows

You could see the shadows on his empty face.

He left no trace of what he’s done to us but fear, peering inside a mind that was once so clean.

Now riddled with tales that you are not supposed to retrieve us from our own minds, you say. To this day, despite a mother trying her best and a father peeping under our beds, the only thing they’ve said and will continue to repeat, is that our heart beats are meals to your pointy teeth. Knives like tongues and fingerlike blades. You’ve talked victims in a comparison of philosophical wisdom. But your words were twisted, wicked in a way that there was no turning back. You showed a great lack of fear, because you put it in us instead of yourself. Our headaches were bells that you were here. We are the fear.

Lies of “I’m fine” only led to triumph. Not to you, but to the rough edges in the back of your mind riddled with chimes of horror story-telling that you were believing, cultist singing, breaking wings that you’d steal from us.

You turned relaxing to head-turning, silence into heart beats. Anything you've heard of so horrible, anything you’ve heard of, so beautiful. Withered away, into your own ways. You break the boundaries of evil, turning hell and earth so equal. Turning your twisted mind and ours so deceitful. We were dead the minute we laid eyes on them.

Because, you said, with repeats added and repeats misplaced, a heart like ours was meant to break.

But we will not bow down to a shadow that doesn’t belong in the light. We will not place our foreheads on carpets so you could replace our stitches we’ve sown ourselves into ligaments of thorns from a dead rose.

We will not crumble because of you,

I will not crumble because of me.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Rising Sun

She feels the sun's heat despite sitting in shadows

Feeling heart beats as loud as drums - and the drums weren't just beats.

They were clocks ticking down to zero, waiting to explode -

Tears as implosions and the cracks of television screens.

That was the moon,

And I am the sun.

The world had never knew this until the day she was born. She had eyes like the sun that could heal a mourning soul. We looked at golden and could have sworn that at night, she couldn't have been the moon.

Where eyes like hers were the moans of quiet suffering, and at dark, when the moon took the sun's spot, a tune no sane person had easily bought.

You could say that the sun and the moon were night and day, and that was exactly what they were. Two personalities fasten together despite not wanting to. Daily actions of pricks and prods, trying her best not to look at the open wound. Mounds of fears and questionings of "did they put enough anesthetic?" As if a gallon of bleach wasn't enough, heart beats like drums - constant ticks and tocks of a fate that would one day come.

This was the sun, right before dusk.

When the moon met the stars, and when the sun met the clouds - reality itself just seemed too far. Rusty arms went out to reach the stars, and golden hands shrouding clouds when she meant no harm. Help was out there, but that was something that the permanent anesthetic just couldn't bare. To her, all of this - was just too fair.

Too many clouds mean rain, anyways.

There was a night, when a star had met the moon. Creating swoons of happiness that created dark to light.

When the moon morphed into the sun, and when the star became a blanket for her golden rays.

Just so a prevention from harmful crowds would wash away, he hid her under his blanket of allocation of clouds. Patting snow-white on scars marked with words. A cloth on her forehead in case she became warm.

This was the kind of treatment the sun or the moon could get used to. Slowly, stars brightened away, and crowds of clouds washed abroad

Just so you could see their baby or midnight blue.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Failure

What do you know about failure?

He asked with a monotone voice, ringing and dancing like the bones of the dead before Halloween day. What I knew about failure was absolute. It was not because of the honest truths and the harsh critiques people would pour onto me, it was because I knew what it felt like to bleed in a wound that had healed yesterday. Because I knew if I swam in the pool deep enough, I would drown – but I let go of the hedges as I felt the pounding of lungs screaming for air. As if mistakes and failure were nicknamed as fair, I found myself living in one.
What I knew about failure was right in front of me. Deserts of cut-in-half trees; humanity. Shadows lingering with gold rings and teeth, promising to bring a better life for homeless thirteen year olds living in streets. We’re constantly being told that a house with a roof is perfectly safe, but for the unfortunate group they’re stuck in Lucifer’s cage. Step-fathers with punches and a mother without a voice, a daughter with eyes who ran with poise. God gave her this life for this was not a choice, but Hell-stricken path of destiny as she is forced to walk on the dirt road when the forests right next to her symbolized being free.

What I knew about failure was giving God our trust then throwing it all away. To this day, we remained the same of yester-year. Planting fear and trauma into children who haven’t even begun school yet. Holding the lack of realization that sixteen year olds hearts are being bent because of a creature inside her
belly.

What I knew about failure was that I was living in one.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Realization

On the day after the war, I had organs and limbs to offer you. I’d give you hands for acknowledgment and legs for support. Build forts made of sweat and tears, letting the blood escape our body. You offered to give up your sight so I could see, but with ignorance like mine, I did not want to believe whatever your eyes were telling me. I am asking you for nothing because that's what you have to offer me. Even when the war’s passed and we’re living days before nights and nights after days, you became the shadow that stopped light from passing by. You became deformed like a bird born without wings, like a child in an environment where rewards were rape and where punishments were bruises. Loss after loss, because you had cried in bed. Your father would walk in the room to find you collapsed on the floor, and whether you were dead or alive, you lived under a shed of never believing you could be loved.

Until the day you died I realized what you had to offer was yourself. You could not tell me that sight was what I needed because what I needed was you. With the right number of machetes, we cut through deformations and constant desperations on hopeless frustration. Even if you used the machete to cut through your skin, I offered spare arms after the war. Even if you tore my space and time because I’m trying to climb on a mountain without rocks, you believed you had something up to offer because I had run out of limbs like legs or arms. And even if the separation of transporting organs and ourselves were too far, we found ourselves trying to sell something we never knew we had.
Realization.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

A Question None Can Answer

A question that seeks no answer
Is a life that can’t endure.
I was a mere wreckage,
Lost upon sea…
A fraction upon life;
Time is not constant,
When will I die?

I am the answer,
And the sky is the question.
I can’t fly, but I can move.
Maybe not now, and maybe not here,
But answers like that,
Are meant to be true…

If I can see, if I can hear,
Then I will fly, 
Fly high in the sky…
If only if only,
If only I were right.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

King As a Servant

That doesn't make any sense, they said.

As if the lies they've bred and the people they've met,

have changed them.

But that isn't true - they walk like servants but are actually kings.

They feed off of naivety yet leave me free.

They've broken human seals as if our questions were meals and as if our obsessions were gold and silver.

There was a tint of importance in us, but we tried not to lead ourselves into blind trust.

Because we knew that a bond between two walls would bust, and that empty threats were to scare us away.

They'd force us to pray, yet those monsters want us to stay.

What they want - is unknown. But the bones they've broke were incomparable with the number of hearts they took. They read our souls like books and eyes as if there was no use into telling a lie.

They walked like servants, but were actually kings.

All they've wanted, deep down inside, aware or not,

was to be free.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Promise

A promise

is a 

sealed package

only to be opened

when trust becomes

a knife.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Only the Heartless

A word you say,
Blew my heart away. . .

The moon can fall and I’d hear your words
A star can shine and I’d see your eyes…

But ever since that lonely day…
A silence can create so many waves…
No matter what you say,
And no matter what you do,
You left and took my heart with you.

A word can mean so many things,
You took my heart like a lying stinge…
You molded my mind into some sort of lie,
Your words would sting and I would cry…
Because a silence can create so many waves,
That only the heartless can simply brave. 

A force that swiped my broken legs,
Can make hearts grow, but slowly bend... 
But as the water grows higher,
My breath becomes tried...

The water reaches my neck,
Once again, a gasp for breath...


A wave can push and a wave can crash,
Like the words to a heart,
But the lies you send and the words you say,
Only the heartless can stand, and only the heartless will brave.
But I have a heart,
And I will never stay.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Mono

I don't speak the language of my people, but I wish to. I am usually discriminated against because I don't.



A bird with wings that cannot fly,
A star in the sky that cannot shine…
A broken wing grabs me by the waist,
The example I am – this is my fate.

They turn their backs and look away.
My answers, not lies, are plenty brave…
But an answer can change their newly thoughts
Their demons and mines I’m soon too fought. 

I’m not the same like I once was
The ones I loved – the ones I trust
Gave me fate and I’m to rot
In discrimination –
As if a devil gave me a wish of sin…
A battle of lips that’s hard to win.

I never thought that this was hard,
Their turned backs and lips sown shut
I’m left alone in a world so same,
my fate returned ready and back 
Are puzzles left in the rain.

Details | Victoria Rosales Poem

Pawn and the Ant

Our shells deform in some odd way…
Our soul and mind are moldered clay…
They twist it and turn it and do what they can,
We slide through their fingers like you would with sand.

We’re corrupted movies; scene to scene
Life makes me ask, is this a nightmare or is this a dream?
They hack our thoughts, our body and soul,
I remember the past; buried along with what they have stole.

We’re the ants and they’re the queen….
Their orders are something we can’t believe.
They command and we obey,
Their orders are here and here to stay.

The snow would drop and it would melt,
Our hearts are nothing but yet to smelt.

Our minds are slaves,
Our souls are pawns…

We seem to think that this is all right,
That our souls and heart are not yet worth to fight…
We’re either the ant or the queen,
And we change by what we have seen.