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Best Poems Written by Marco Soto

Below are the all-time best Marco Soto poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Marco Soto Poem

Tree Stories

Tree Stories

She asked me about the trees

and I laughed, remembering the times I saw her eyes sparkle through the leaves on every single occasion of when I told her what I humbly named "tree stories" 
	
She remembered every single story I told

And even after I stopped telling them, she'd recount every one and begged me to tell more even in the freezing-our-fingers-off cold and when I told her I wouldn't tell her any more,

She silently smiled and knew that my stories were best kept infrequent and special so that that tree never rotted


Now here's another one, made lovingly 

I watched the leaves flow through the city and when I walked out of my raggedy old apartment building I felt pity for these leaves 

They ran through these sidewalks and crosswalks without a destination and never had a relation to one another, but together made a beautiful creature to which I wrote my plots and storylines for you. The branches themselves stayed put however, waiting for the leaves to come back whenever and ask if it all went well but to be disappointed, for these leaves were gone somewhere, left for a 17 year old boy to be compelled somewhere and so the tree is left forever incompleted everywhere. The tree is left forever, with no other story to tell. 

Fall is a hard time for the trees. 


I wrote this to make you smile 

You know, the one that lasts for miles and for all the while we didn't have the pleasure of seeing one another, so to see that bright smile again I wrote this story for you, my lover in wonder.

This made me so happy to write and my eyes saw even more than what I allowed myself to see at night whenever we have our love filled phone calls and whenever I close my eyes so I can imagine you here with me, your breathing holding over the rough, rough tide. 

And now this is where it ends. Till another story I hope this holds you over and again I say, I made it lovingly.

Details | Marco Soto Poem

Listen To This, Dad

The way he talked about me decided my future.

His method of confrontation in the form of condescending conversation toward the quote unquote habits I had made me decide to not express my opinions, thoughts or interests, just so he could scroll through a Pinterest session without my interruption in the form of emotional expression. 

And no, Dad, I'm not supposed to be like you. 

While that may be the case biologically, and in your case, ideologically, it is certainly not the case historically and I know that because of the hammering into my brain that you so kindly did at an age where I didn't understand the difference between tough love and judgement. 

I didn't know what was wrong with my beliefs, but you sure did.
You sat there and for hours on end and ranted about how love is not for everyone. 
How love is not a right that everyone deserves in the kingdom of God and His son.
How love is not real for everyone unless they love the opposite sex well I have news for you, buddy and yes I say buddy because once he said it in my face while he poked his finger in the place of my heart leaving a blue bruise in my emotions, and to my friends, this is old news. 
My news to you is that love is for everyone. Love is for every single person regardless of their sexual preference which by the way does not lower their intelligence regardless of your illogical arguments in the starting set of your lectures which just decided again my future's texture, rough and insecure.

And the scary thing is I almost turned into you. 
I almost had your beliefs and conservative mindset all made in the fear of a 50s suburban culture end and I'm so glad I have a mind of my own.

And I know your angry outbursts are comfort you run to but you don't have to take them out of your children.

Please listen to this.

I love you, dad. And I never wrote to insult.

I only wrote so you could understand the things I said when I told you I didn't know how to talk to you. 

I want to be able to. 

Please let me be able to.

Details | Marco Soto Poem

Language

We created a language in which we communicate ideas and advancements 

We created a language out of abstract sounds and shapes. 

The same language that can enhance us not only as people, but as a species! 

Isn't that insane? 

The fact that 26 little shapes have become what we refer to as the alphabet. 

The face that these shapes have been categorized into our literal building blocks into words that are also abstract sounds that have carried us into this conversation and I into writing this free verse poem from late night conversation with again, abstract sounds!

Insane! The abstract sounds have created the same sentences and stanzas in which we poured our hearts out into as poets. 

We create and we reiterate with these sounds. 

We can even make them rhyme around the same sound called a syllable, these words could kill in their natural form provoking an emotion that creates more words poking and prodding at the next's heart strings right in their very body! 
And they wouldn't even know what hit them, the abstract sounds triggering high school memories instead of their previous happy thoughts. 

Words. Words can..

Words.

Details | Marco Soto Poem

Cascades

This house breathes and I'm not at all sure what that means.

But she smiled, and the world and my wonder along with it, stopped. Her hair swished around when she laughed for miles over and on the top of this sad old house’s worn and torn down tiles.

But the thing is, she smiled at nothing. She smiled at the empty jokes I made just to make her laugh at something in sight of her previous weariness and anxieties inspiring more frightening nightly self discoveries all handled quietly, never shared, always found and kept privately. 

In these she discovered her real soul and stared at it through the eyes of a one with one containing the color of burnt charcoal. 

Her hair stood out to me, though. It curled and told a story about her and it's one of those I'd just never ever want to close. Cascading down hallways like.. Oh. That's what that means. 

She smiled again, brightly shining in our dull colored class. I'd been staring again. I really need to stop doing that.

Details | Marco Soto Poem

Distance

When you were born, the stars and the galaxies fought over about who got to be in your eyes. 

The clouds fought over who got to be in your hair, the rain placing itself lovingly in your breathing. 

The four forces of the world were torn to create you. 

The forests burned and the sun fell out of the sky just to create your addicting smile. 

This world is haunted, now. 

All of the supernatural held in a house. 

Yours. 

I watched inside the house of your murderous ghosts to see the different traumas, more than an infinity of commas to space out the different ones. 

They screamed out hate and pissed on love. 

You stood in the balcony of the house and preached love and shat on hate. 

I'm sorry for creating these ghosts. I never meant to kill and not burn the bones of our memories. I'm sorry. 

I know these were caused by my harshness in part in a concoction of a bad situation to create fear in what was once supposed to be a place without fighting, ghosts or tears much like a quiet pier of a peer peering into the depths of the universe which we understood, because we took the time to get to know each other and because we could.

But now we can't. Now we're limited by constraints which are even restrained by your mother.

And I caused that too.  

Now that I've confessed my sins the house is exorcised. 

Distance is hard.

Details | Marco Soto Poem

The Third Time

Without the warmth and light of your soul the world withers and dies as if a human without oxygen 
The human concept cries and rewrites the whole story of what it really means to be alive in your eyes. 
Without you the world doesn't rise, no, it all falls on what we all rely on to be safe. 
There's millions, if not billions of ways that what I'm saying to you has been said
But what differentiates my name in place of those pages is the way your eyes sparkle as we kiss in bed 
The way you smile when you see me and the way your eyes shine when the light hits just right



That is what we rewrite 

We rewrite the way lovers fall and scream the way that lovers do
We see each other and we/rewrite

But it's never enough to explain the very way my heart races when I see your name

It's never enough to explain how you make me feel like I'm not insane because 
of the pain

And it is surely never enough to truly convey what has been said millions if not billions of times 

That I have fallen for you, for the third time tonight.