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Best Poems Written by Nicholas Enloe

Below are the all-time best Nicholas Enloe poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ii.

"Good sir, for playing the piano I thank thee."
"But for you I did not play, but me."
"That not matters, only you were here."
"I just wanted to play, why is this so dear?"
"I could not write, the atmosphere was dull."
"Perhaps my deep melodies helped ignite the soul."
"From your great sing a poem came to life."
"Thank you friend, for us musicians go through much strife."
"But I play not music, but write verse."
"It's the harmonies inside that cause us the curse."
"I thank thee again sir, you've taught me more new."
"That I did not, it was always in you."

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The Teacher Tree

all of them sustain,
some wilted,
all vital,
each a part of the teacher tree.

speaking different parables,
humming different songs,
each falling its own way in the end.

tell me, tell me teacher tree,
why they have to die?
some too soon to truly live,
struggling and suffering.

the sun will scorch,
the winds will dry,
each one of your sacred leaves.

the teacher tree won't answer,
and all the leaves will try
to tell you why they matter.

every living one does matter,
and was made so all could exist.

the teacher tree stays silent,
but answers every one,
and every fallen leaf
is one with him,
forever and forever.

Details | Nicholas Enloe Poem

My Bonsai

dry and stiff,
still standing lifelessly on my coffee table,
pieces falling slowly below,
even in death the glow of my 19-inch TV comforts you,
even if I thought more chemical plant food would sustain you through my negligence.
"Plants need water!" my mom tried to say,
but I believed you looked fine,
pale green and vital.
My poor bonsai may not be living anymore,
but it will stay right where it is.
Standing gracefully next to my dead
aloe plant and the toenail clippers.

Details | Nicholas Enloe Poem

Pen

Oh, watch the people of the pen work! The writer has picked it up, inspired and ready to 
write the next great novel! 

The little people rush to the gears to make sure the ink flows smoothly, while the 
grunts work at the ballpoint. They roll the ball along while the masterpiece is being 
crafted, but will be filthy in black ink when they go home to their wives. 

An air bubble has formed! The owner left it in the car overnight and the ink froze, 
letting air in. They rush to get the ink going, but an earthquake has erupted! The owner 
violently shakes the pen and they are unable to get to their stations to fix the 
catastrophe. The little people begin to collapse from concussions due to the shaking, 
and it seems the ink will never flow again. Wait, there it goes! No, false alarm. That 
was just a tiny glob of ink. 

The shaking then stopped and the pen is thrown into the garbage like half-eaten food, 
scooped up kitty litter, and first drafts. The plant has been shut down. What will the 
little people tell their wives?

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Sweet Happiness

had a bad day so I took off my clothes
running and running through paths of concrete
and the sweet smell of ripe canteloupe on my head
free as a bird
letting myself finally fly
everyone stares as an automobile swerves to miss me
te bright sun shining on my beautiful skin
God intended it like this
"I'm a hamster! I'm a hamster!"

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Photography

My poor dead frog
what has happened to you?
Jumping happily and eating
swimming the waters deep
you laughed and loved
dodged the cars and children
leapt on your lily-pads, smiled
you were complete
then I found you, free as 2-D
smashed and dried
lying stiffly in unmoving hands
on the pavement where I placed you
Snap! My camera says
You are dead but immortalised

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The Boy That Lived On the Moon

They saw him through their telescope
and he waved back and smiled
"How did he get there?"
"Why did he leave?"
they all pondered.
They watched him make a civilization,
of rocks of different shapes and sizes,
but he treated them all the same.
And he'd look down on Earth with misty eyes,
but he smiled all the same.
"We must work to rescue this poor boy!"
the scientists said,
and got a crew together fast.
When they all arrived they searched for hours,
and in the distance he came,
"We've come to save you! Come with us!" they cried.
but the boy looked puzzled and finally said,
"But I came to save you from going back."
and he slowly walked away.
The astronauts left him by himself,
and returned home.
They all wondered why he would not come back.
"The land, the opportunity, the people!"
But then they understood,
and agreed the boy that lived on the moon wasn't so odd.

Details | Nicholas Enloe Poem

Disillusionment of the Downstairs Attendant

watching semi-nightly from the banister above,
I'd catch the old man sitting,
rustling his newspapers and drinking cups of joe,
sipped on black and steaming hot,
with eyes of deer, determined and disinterested.
without as much a hint to a smile or a frown,
his long night shift seemed endless and without event.
reading mysteries and romances,
and crosswords were a breeze.
sometimes he would pace quickly,
in the lobby down below,
secret whisperings and mutters turned to stifled shouts.
then once he gave one last look to his nightly home,
it's yellow lamps and carpet,
intentionally uncomfortable chairs,
and the lone and creaky floorboard by his vintage desk.
forcing open the elevator door,
he stood beneath for hours,
until the sun had risen and a beautiful day had started.
my neighbors missed their breakfast,
for the lift seemed to have become stuck,
two feet below the bottom floor.

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Far Away

Lifting from the park in our chariot,
a basket attached to a giant green balloon,
flames above to hold us aloft,
last bags of sand hit the grass as we soar,
soar slowly away as children watch in amazement,
others rolling balls back and forth.
Holding my love and smiling,
for we are together.
Only clouds above us and Earth down below,
roads become mazes and people become specks,
lakes are but a tear that twinkles,
cars just ants that scatter.
She cries of joy,
I wipe that lake away.
Earth begins to tremble,
spasm wildly and shake,
breaking apart like a giant puzzle,
falling into space.
A bit of brief sadness and then large grins,
forgetting the past as we are the future.
Gripping her hand and letting a laugh,
we drift far far away.

Details | Nicholas Enloe Poem

Stuck In the Road

Somehow I got stuck in the road,
on the yellow dotted line,
each way was the same length,
mechanical monsters zipping by both sides,
so I go straight along the line,
"Go, cross the road H.C.!" someone says,
but that is not my name,
no further can I go for someone is ahead,
turning back is now full as well,
all of us stuck in the middle of the road,
then someone shoved me out of line
into a shiny metallic beast,
forever will I lie stretched out on the cold highway,
freshly paved, may I add