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POETRY IN "E"MOTION - Original poems inspired by events in my life.

Updated on December 15, 2009

Poetry: A Glimpse Into Anothers Heart And Soul

Our hurts, desires, dreams, likes, dislikes, the things that make us smile or make us cry, how we see the simple things around or even IF we see them are a big part of who we are. We don't always let these things be seen by others but....Poetry, once pen is in hand those things are no longer hidden. Everything we are will flow across the page. Poetry,.... is a mirror.

Here, you will read bits of me.

Here, I hand you my mirror.


He doesn't understand and a little boy cries,

A lifetime of tears will surely haunt his eyes.

His daddy is for what he longs,

Read me a story, sing me a song.

Let's play ball, teach me to throw,

goodnight kisses he'll never know.

Watches the window for cars passing by,

It isn't my daddy, tell me why.

Colors a picture and when he's done,

Sets it aside, my daddy will come.

Days go by and time passes on,

The hope in his heart is always strong,

My daddy will come is his constant cheer,

A knock at the door,......


This Journal

This journal I have is a comfort to me,

As I write letters to you that will never be seen.

It eases the pain of not having you,

And let's me express love I'm not allowed to show.

There are so many things I'd like to say,

But I can't to you , only this page.

I think of you often and wish I could go,

Back in time to three weeks ago.

Back to hearing the laughfter in your voice,

Back to when you hadn't made your choice.

To end this friendship of ours so new,

Ending it now before it grew.

Oh how my heart breaks as I remember the times,

Spent laughing with you, sharing our hearts and minds.

A Prayer For Papaw


This poem was written for a 'papaw" who was one of the first deployed to Iraq


Dear God,

I have a favor to ask of you tonight,

It's really important, so I hope I get it right.

You see My papaw can't be here to tuck me into bed,

He had to go away and help somebody else instead.

I know my papaw loves me and didn't want to go,

But God, I sure do miss him and wanted you to know,

My papaw is the very bestest friend I got,

He tells me funny stories and plays with me a lot.

So God, if you would please go to him tonight,

Stay with him and keep him safe within your sight.

God, I sure would like it if you answered this one little prayer,

That way my papaw won't be lonely and maybe won't be scared.

Well God I have to go,

Mommy says it's time for bed,

But I'll be back tomorrow,

To talk to you again.


The fog is lifting embracing all it surrounds,

Caressing the trees, leaving it's kiss upon the ground.

A silent shroud of softness announces a new day,

A feather touch of coolness as it slips away...

Drawn to it's death by the newly rising sun.

Returning again when a new morn has begun.

My Reality

Its' filmy shadows lurk about me, Chilled whispers, you're mine.

Icy fingers caressing me with each decreasing breath.

It's comming... My death.

A Hidden Path

A vision of beauty comes to mind,

A forgotten path with flowers intertwined.

It's winding route leads through the woods,

Covered with leaves and veined with roots.

Dimly lit by sun dappled spots,

Newly colored by forget-me-nots.

Water glistens in a crystal stream,

Moss covered rocks complete the scene.

Leaves rustled by a gentle breeze,

Birds singing their soft melodies.

A path well hid by trees and brush,

No man to enter and stir the hush.

Tiny Treasures

I sat outside and listened to the silence,

No traffic sounds or human voices.

I sat and watched as the night moved in,

I sat and waited for the show to begin.

Slowly at first, a twinkle here and there,

As darkness moved in they were everywhere.

From the ground to the tops of the trees,

A sight to behold anyone would agree.

A show of lights that truly astounds,

Every eye that cares to look around.

A tiny treasure, a gift from above,

One of Gods creatures, a little lightning bug.

A Passing Thought

Drumbeats and stringed vibrations awaken the stirrings within.

Voices straining to reveal conflicted thoughts and secret desires.

The heart of music.

The art of song.

Memories Of Home

Many years have passed since I've been home,

Too hard to face now that everyones gone.

I need to make my peace and let go of the past,

Find the forgotten memories of my childhood past.

I pull into the drive and my heart sinks to see,

The old home isn't what it used to be.

No more milk cows grazing in the fields,

No flowers planted in the old wagon wheels.

The chickens are gone and so are the pigs,

The yard now grown over and covered with weeds.

The house is still standing empty and alone,

It's not the same either, grandmas porch, fallen and gone.

There's no one left, no one to care,

Gardens are untended, empty and bare.

The creek in the pasture where we would play,

Grown over and dried up today.

I sit on what's left of my climbing tree,

Sit on the stump as memories wash over me.

They're alive with all the sights and sounds,

Tractors running and children all around.

Canning our food, preparing for fall,

Hunting for eggs, laid in the straw.

Grandpa leaving the barn with a bucket in each hand,

Grandma in the kitchen frying chicken in the pan.

Her apron all covered with flour and lard,

Chasing us from the kitchen and back to the yard.

Having tears in my eyes I stand to leave.

Finally with memories around me I've made my peace,


Leaving The Fold

There's a little white church that I can see,

Down in the meadow surrounded by trees.

The door hangs open, the window panes gone.

The sheep have all left, no longer calling it home.

The good Shepherds word they no longer hear,

No one to tell of His love so dear.

They wandered away not knowing what to do.

No one to feed them their heavenly food.

The presence of the Lord did the little church hold,

A place for them to come in out of the cold.

But the wolf came around, they let him too near,

New promises he made, God they no longer feared.

He promised them all they would ever need,

The warnings of God they did not heed.

Then after they left the good Shepherds fold,

With satans' work done, they were turned out in the cold.

My Place To Rest

 There are tears in my eyes from a burden too great,

A heart filled with confusion and ready to break.

Satan is here trying my faith again today,

Making me question the decisions I've made.

I can't do this alone, I can't face another trial.

Please Lord ease this hurt for just a little while.

I know I'll grow from the lesson it will teach,

But Father I'm weary and peace seems so out of reach.

I need your strength Lord to get me through this new test,

Please lift me up Lord Jesus so on your shoulder I might rest.

It's there I find the courage  to fight the trials that I face,

The comfort and assurance to keep up my Godly pace.

As I hand this request to you in silent prayer,

I thank you Father for you love and always being there.

I thank you for your guidance and always knowing what's best,

But most of all Father I thank you for being my place to rest.


If I had Wings

 Lying  on the ground under an old shade tree,

At the end of the yard where no one can see.

It was my place to hide when things got bad,

A place to go when I was just too sad.

Watching the birds, higher and higher as they flew,

Thinking to myself, that's what I want to do.

I could fly up high from all the words that sting,

Fly to the clouds, if only I had wings.


The Cabin

 The sun peaks through the forrest roof,

Dimly lighting the way as I walk the wood.

The Path I'm on I know so well,

To the old cabin just up the trail.

Nestled back in the vine covered trees.

Reclaimed by the land and barely seen.

A place I come to get away,

Freeing myself of this lifes pain.

I stand on the porch, that's as far as I go,

Not wanting to disturb things left long ago.

A rusted old plate on a table set for one,

Cobwebs in the corner concealing an old gun.

A tattered rug in the middle of the floor,

Wood for the fire still stacked by the door.

A hook on the rafter where an old lantern hangs,

Once lit as light faded with the day.

I stand here often just to peak inside,

A chance to relive a simpler time.


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    • AnythingArtzy profile imageAUTHOR


      8 years ago from OHIO

      Thanks again riverwrites. Same with me as far as it being a gift. One day I just started writing and I wrote for months. Actually put together a fairly large book with acknowledgements and all just to see if I could do it. Never published. It's just a release for me. but anyway, I believe God gave the inspirations to help me cope with things during that particular time. I haven't written anything since then.

    • riverwrites profile image


      8 years ago from Indiana - USA

      Nice poetry. I find that I can work on prose, but poetry has to come to me as a gift. How do you get inspired? I just posted a couple of poems on my personal blog:

    • AnythingArtzy profile imageAUTHOR


      8 years ago from OHIO

      Thank you

    • uliveulearn profile image


      8 years ago from Canada

      A lot of heart and creativity.

    • profile image


      8 years ago

      lots of work ther, i have read quite a few, i will be back later to read more...... keep writing i will keep reading


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