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Best Poems Written by Gin Sanchez

Below are the all-time best Gin Sanchez poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Pms/Pmt

Taste these tears
Before you say you know...

Kiss me softly
Before you get up to go...

You are unaware 
That I am drowning
Before the flood,

Emotionally and physically,
Without a drop of blood.

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Missing

My heavy eyes had fallen from hope to dismay.
My straining heart had risen only for delay...
Then tears that taste of salt and loss,
The taste of sacrifice, of cost.

I thought one day they'd pay respects, drink tea;
Knew one day they'd come to comfort me

But where's my son?

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Green Card

We are lucky.  We sit and wait.
We were early.  Others are too late.
There is a smell, body odor,
Stale food, heat, smoke and piss.
I kiss my daughter into another hour.

We sit as if waiting at a cold bus stop,
Dependent, huddled together, waiting to
go...we know...
there's no spare room.
There are tired faces filling floor spaces,
A baby cries while his mother rocks him
To and fro...to and fro...

"No we can't go!" 
I say to my daughter.
She is two and restless,
I am restless too.
"Mommy has to stay a while."
I smile to cheer her.

We sit and wait.

We are still waiting.

Patiently she drinks her juice.
I feel vulnerability creeping up on me,
And hold her hand tight.
She has more right...
To be here.

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

I Know a Man

I know a man, a breaking man
Who can't be broken.

He's been tested far beyond
And come through fire.

Sometimes I catch the sorrow in his eye 
As he torments himself with right from wrong.

He argues, analyzes...sits in the other chair.
He puzzles over every deed,
Imagines her not being there...

Then can't accept such thoughts of peace,
Her fate, even if it's of her own choosing.

A broken man who can't be broken,
Sits weeping...not losing.

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Losing

I didn’t lose her like you lose a purse.
Or keys in a different room.
She didn’t leave one day and decide
Not to come back.
They didn’t find her dead,
Face down in the woods.

My father didn’t lose her in a crowd,
Or at the Harvest Festival supper…
He didn’t lose her to childbirth, divorce
Or even cancer…

Her best friend didn’t lose my mother easily,
They could sit and talk and laugh 
And laugh some more...before…

When my mother had her memory
She was young and pretty and took care of me.
When my mother had her memory 
She told me stories about when she was a child.
When my mother had her memory
She didn’t forget so easily or repeat so often.

We lose her slowly right before our eyes…
We see her losing her way in a clear fog.
We hear her use the word she made do with
And the further she slips, 
The tighter we hold on.

Ginny C. S. Sanchez Oct 15, 2007 C Copy right

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

A Mother's Loss

In the early days, before it sunk in...
I gagged on a mother's love,
All the time throwing up loss;
A blur of people reasoning what can't be.

Your knickknacks lay scattered in every room
Waiting for you.

But now I have time to muse.

If  I could take you back for just one moment
I would hug the smell of you, grasp your hands
In mine and hold them up to see delicate fingers move.

I would blow gently on your eyes to make them flutter open
And watch your mouth slowly broaden into that familiar smile.

As your breath returns, mine would be taken away.
Hope of the impossible.  I can dream.

My mornings are still black, graying at the edges
When I wake to nothing but the void of you.
I'm quiet because I think I might feel or hear you
And I don't want to miss you in case you come...
                                       Imagined or other wise.

Even though I know you have arrived,
You've been gone so long already;
I still want you to come home to this one.

When I walk
I walk with you in mind.
When I talk 
You are my full-stop.
Everything still starts and ends with you.

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Grandfather

Here we sit 
In the lamp light
Of her sorry...
Waiting for death.

He will not come,
He is not welcome.

There is a methodical beat
In this tired old house.
It is his heart.
It is the Grandfather
Who sits bolt upright 
In the hall.

But death must not call,
He is not welcome.

She has carried life beyond
More than once;
Yet she sleeps to wake, to carry
Once again.

She bolts the door against death
Kisses him into the morning
And he will be there,
Warm and safe and old.

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Because of Us

Because of us, OK maybe you…
They fight,
Real fights with fists and tears erupting.
Because of us, OK maybe me
They don’t handle frustrations well,
They can’t seem to tell… 
If they are sorry?
Because we have been wrong
To wait instead of ask
For compromise or consolation,
They ache for the better part
Of each other. 
Because you wear pride instead of tears,
And I’ve cried throughout the years
Longing for understanding; 
Invisible shrapnel falls down on the innocent.

Gin Sanchez, Dec 2007

Details | Gin Sanchez Poem

Failure

Drained.
A cold beach with a low tide,
Giving in...breathing out;
Contemplating hurt.
Looking for invisible injuries...
Drip,
  Drip,
     Drip. 
 A tap of unexplained guilt.