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Alishia Patricio Poem
These hands and this mind are mine,
And I would be wise to use them.
If you were so inclined,
You would be wise too.
But if you must make use of your words,
Be ever careful as you choose them.
For too many men it shall be
The tongue that does undo them.
Who then would hear this
And let that be their demise?
For all the words that can be spoken
Could easily be lies.
I have learned that life is kind
To those that listen.
Those whose eyes are always watching:
Those with vision.
Each decision that you make
Cannot be made by mouth.
The tongue shall yield no answers;
Thy hands shall build thy house.
And each word you speak
With no direction
Will only lead you
further south.
Copyright © Alishia Patricio | Year Posted 2017
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Alishia Patricio Poem
Originally titled Diary of the (Un)broken
I wrote down what you did to me in detail,
That way I can't confuse it
I know I did not give my trust
For you to abuse it.
How's a man to hurt a woman for his own amusement?
That makes one of us laughing,
But leaves me trying not to lose it.
And for a while,
I forgot how to feel.
I lay in bed and let my blankets shroud me in denial,
And I'll admit,
I almost let myself believe you When you said I wanted it.
When I tried to push you off me,
I wasn't strong enough.
And when I thought that you were done,
You hadn't had enough.
Yes, it's been rough,
And the replay running through my head
Isn't helping.
But I have to be strong,
For me.
I have to hold on
To me,
Though I may never be the girl I used to be.
I know it's not my fault,
And you are a bastard
For making me master the art
Of falling apart and faking a smile for the masses.
And the most disastrous part,
I've known from the start,
Is that from the pain in my bed came a pain in my head and it haunts me.
I just want peace.
I just want peace for myself.
And not to be weak, or meek, or mild, or mousy.
I want to rage.
I want to break free from this cage
And this pain you have caused me.
I want to be free
Of my mind and my memory.
Here lies my memories.
Copyright © Alishia Patricio | Year Posted 2017
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Alishia Patricio Poem
Never have I known myself so well.
Never have I ever been more glad I've been through hell.
Never have my shoes been so worn,
Or my heart been so torn.
But though my heart is heavy
My head is high.
My pace is steady!
Never have I ever been more ready.
Man, who cares about those shoes?
I could walk the streets in bare feet if I had to.
Copyright © Alishia Patricio | Year Posted 2017
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Alishia Patricio Poem
I rose from my bed in the darkness
and escaped to the river in the dead of night.
Clad in only my thin fragile nightdress,
Much to my young lover's delight.
My lover was bound by his honor,
The next day he'd head back to sea.
But he promised he'd be back to get me,
He promised me eternity.
And then he leaned in close to kiss me,
Oh just so ever gently...
But a shot rang out through the silence
Before our sweet lips could meet.
The red from his chest soaked my nightdress
My lover fell down to his knees
And before he could whisper 'I love you',
His eyes faded and he was at ease.
Oh what a tragic story, yes,
But it's still mine to tell.
I thought I'd be a sailor's wife,
But here I sit and wail.
They think of me the devil's witch
Bound here by my sins.
But the truth is I'm a gently soul
Who met a brutal end.
Oh, I cried and I cried in the darkness,
Though I knew that I should flee.
I never realized my peril
'til the gunman stepped out from the trees.
Standing there was my admirer,
His eyes were green with jealousy.
He told me that I had betrayed him,
And he could not forgive what he'd seen.
Oh, I begged and I begged for his mercy,
As he stared down at me hungrily.
In the end he took all that he wanted
And left me cold to the touch in the reeds.
Oh what a tragic story, yes,
But it's still mine to tell.
I thought I'd be a sailor's wife,
But here I sit and wail.
They think of me the devil's witch
Bound here by my sins.
But the truth is I'm a gently soul
Who met a brutal end.
Copyright © Alishia Patricio | Year Posted 2021
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Alishia Patricio Poem
Cold drinks in a wet heat,
The bindings of paper a silent retreat
Beneath the cool shade of a screened porch
Escaping the fiery torch
That is the Alabama summer.
I'll keep here between these lines of lovers
Immersed in worlds entirely other
I'd rather live among these brutes of men
Than have to venture home again
And face this Alabama summer.
From the comforts of this ratty chair
I'll ken love, loss, and despair.
Leafing and leaping through pages
One and the same as the heroes and sages
I could almost forget the Alabama summer.
I reside not upon this wretched mountain,
Walking instead through lush gardens with flower laden fountains.
Scent of wild lavender in the air,
In a land where I'm the maiden fair
There is no Alabama summer.
Copyright © Alishia Patricio | Year Posted 2021
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