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Best Poems Written by Lorrie Scheider

Below are the all-time best Lorrie Scheider poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

A Cyclical Life

Here in the heavy depths of insolent woes,
We gesture and talk and waste our time,
Staking claim to each minute of our earthly life,
Running the hours through a clock by the day,
Never sated, not content to find even love,
Buried deep inside the petals of a perfect rose.

So was a metaphor created from the rose, 
Then plagiarized and used for all of time,
Simply here to represent the beauty of love,
A perfection to which we cannot aspire to in life,
Or even death, in the darkest of all those woes,
Great though they may seem by the passing day.

It's a fragile, soulful kind of love,
In the pressing presence of the breaking day,
Where your back breaks beneath ample woes,
And there just simply isn’t ever enough time,
To do what you plan to do with your life.
Then you start to resemble that rose.

Soft and delicate, with easy loss of life,
Mournful of the passage of time,
Counting down, day by dreary day,
Ever seeking out to find dear love,
The theoretical banishment of woes.
Such is the way of the deep red rose.

Has it ever occurred to us not to mark time?
Just to ignore it, along with any such woes,
Just to leap forth and enjoy life,
To live to the absolute fullest everyday,
And just as chosen by the poet's rose,
To find and hold on to, that one true love.

For I find, that it's mostly true these days,
That people don't make enough time,
For laughter and fullness in life,
So preoccupied with petty woes,
That they forget about the beauty of love,
And in doing that, they forget about the rose,

I know what the rose represents in my life,
And I work hard to expel my woes every day,
So that soon I will have time for true love.

*****Written in Sestina for Constance's Poetry 101 contest.*****
******* 5th Place winner*******
******Sarah Blake August 2010******

A sestina is a highly structured form of poetry consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-
line envoy (thirty-nine lines). The end words of the first stanza are repeated in varied order
as end words in the other stanzas and also recur in the envoy.

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

What Is Love?

What is love if it is not the selfless,
Wholehearted joy in another’s fortune?
If it is not the thrill at another’s joy?

If it is not the longing for another’s happiness,
Then what is love at all?

Real love remains untainted by bitter negativity,
By possessiveness and jealousy.
By human nature’s poisons and insecurities.

Love is the power to grant freedom, to trust, to adore.
So, what is love if not the warm and carefree feeling?
A heart brimming full of laughter and light?

If these emotions are not love, 
Then who can claim to love at all?

Love is not a need, or desire, nor is it the want of flesh.
Love is the simple pleasure of another’s company,
The sharing, sometimes, the sacrifice,
The ultimate willingness to put another first.
The hunger to make another happy.
The need to dry their tears,
To tend their ill health,
To help them be all that they can be.
To inspire their dreams,
Cultivate ambitions
And give absolutely, unequivocally your all.

Because love makes us better than we are,
And what is love, if it is not the beautiful,
And soul singing feeling of fulfilment,
Pride and joy in the existence of another?

What is love if it is not all accepting,
All forgiving and all kind?
Love is a guiding light in life,
Something to aspire towards.

What is love then,
If not the warmth in my chest,
The smile as I fall asleep,
The eagerness with which I wake?
What is love, if not the excitement,
The anticipation you always leave me with?

I ask you then, what is love,
If it is not what I feel for you?

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Sunlit Yearnings

The slow progress of a wandering mind.
With quiet ambition, too swift to humble.
I should not fall, will not break,
I fear that I will never give up my quest.

It's strange now that I search,
Never knowing what for, or where to look.
I feel the years drawing in.
Impatient to be grown,
Careful to stay young.
Not too soon,
Take life slow.

So I do, and no pleasure do I take.
What pride do I derive from a shallow life?
A slow life, lacking depth and texture.
It used to be deep, it used to be hard.

But then, in those days there used to be sunlight.
Oh how I miss the sunlight.
Now as winter draws in, pale and icy,
Lacking substance, just as I do.
It makes sense that a slow life should be hard too.

The conflict in my natures, one to fly,
One to sink. For now the latter wins.
Dissatisfaction, a simple artifact of dreaming.
A girl once young and free,
Now resides within the chains of society.

For the time being I must seek focus,
But am constantly distracted by the ghosts I miss,
People that fell aside as life ploughed on.
All I know is that I miss you, my sunshine,
I never want you to fall out of my sight.
Never set, never fade and please, never burn out.

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Underbelly

The hours grows late and so the night bodes ill,
Another man falls, he did drink his fill.
And what fate do the streets take,
When the night cracks with a dawn break?
The rotten and unwanted fate,
Resented and repelled too late.
When the breath of man became disgrace,
Habitual of a hollow, heathen race.
And the cumbersome unrest of drunken sleep,
With a final sigh the streets does sweep.
Here unbidden wretches mark out their day,
In this sorry place they waste away.
As the city shifts focus from watchful eyes,
Concealing its dirt beneath painted lies.
Without a sound each night exhumed,
Then ritual veneer polished and re-assumed.

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Reflections

Take the matter of time,
Puzzles that fall,
Impressions that fade,
Life is full of the patterns we made.
Little breezes,
Some brisk.
And Butterfly wings,
So many uses for common day things!
Every pocket,
Tight and secure,
Meaningful glances,
If only life let you take chances.
Then the matter of life,
Of Living,
Of all it contains,
Question whether what's left always remains.
Will we stand by it?
Decisions in time,
Walking the line.
Exploring the need to quote the word 'fine'.
If I could find you,
Matters of space,
Gathers around.
Would we be able to stay on the ground?
Let us not smother
pieces that fit.
Judgement in full.
Let's just agree to be beautiful.

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted

'Knock, knock' on the door,
But, I won't let you in.
No, no.
The chamber of my heart is closed.
But 'knock, knock' you say.
Oh no!
I am stronger in this position than any other.
A huge 'liquidation' sign hung,
For months and months,
At my window pane.
I gave away everything I had to give,
To you,
To family,
To friends.
Nothing is left here,
Nothing for you,
Nothing for me.
There is no you and me.
My heart is closed.
I sacrificed,
I worked,
I gambled,
I lost.
I am fine.
'Knock, knock' you say.
But my door is closed to you,
Always now.
I won't let you in again.
No. no.
Go away, now.
I have nothing left to give.
The chamber of my heart was looted long ago.
Gutted.
Raised to the ground.
Left empty.
Dilapidated.
Condemned.
Like a broken down warehouse,
In some sort of insurance scam that went wrong.
Was that it?
Was this all some crazy scheme?
To gather insurance on care?
On love?
To put me in line?
To own everything I have?
Everything I am?
To control me?
Insuring against me,
Then ripping me apart,
Stone by stone,
Day by day.
No, no. 
You can't come in again.
Not you.
Not ever.
Go away.
This fraud went wrong.
I build back up,
Brick by fragile brick.
I put up a wall,
With a sign,
'Private property',
Keep out!
Yet, 'knock, knock',
So, now I say,
'Trespassers will be prosecuted'.
Oh yes.
Come near me again,
I will tear you apart.
I have emotional dynamite,
Golden.
So much you don't know.
Oh yes.
Come near me again,
I will blow your life apart,
Just as you did mine.
'Knock, knock'?
Really?
'Knock, knock'?
Honestly?
You think you have a right to ask?
For anything?
Ever again?
Oh no!
Not now.
Not never.
Test my walls,
If you like.
They are steady.
Knock on the door,
If you like.
I'm not listening.
My chamber's closed,
My heart is not open for business,
Everything went in the recession.
I don't have a thing to my name,
Emotionally.
Except ambition.
And drive.
And a whole host of strength.
You can lay siege,
I won't notice.
You can knock,
I won't answer.
No, no,
Not ever again.
You are not welcome.
Oh no!
No more.
Please go.
Spare yourself the trouble,
Of the incessant knocking...

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Zodiac Orphan (Capricorn/Aquarius)

Balanced on a cusp precariously,
 Trying to decide who I’d rather be,
   Capricorn is sure and steady,
Aquarius, thoughtful and ever ready,
    Yet neither one is really me.





**For the Zodiac Race**

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Turtle Soup

Aunty Murtle, she was Mad,
Mamma said so all the time,
But nothing she did was quite as bad,
As when she bought turtle's home to dine.

She placed they on the table top,
And "Turtle soup" she said,
But when they wiggled and tried to hop,
It was clear that they weren't dead.

"Are you sure that's not a frog?" I quizzed,
Pointing at a nearby hopping turtle.
Just then, passed my ear it whizzed,
And landed on Aunt Murtle.

With a startled cried my Aunty leapt.
"A frog! Oh God! Oh no!"
Then peered at me, her new suspect,
"You shouldn't play with frogs you know!"

"But Aunty, you just bought them in,
You wanted them for soup."
"You silly child," did she begin,
"You don't want frog soup goop."

"Besides…" she continued on,
As was the way with Aunty Murtle,
"What you can always rely upon,
Is soup made from a Turtle."

**For the Turtle Soup contest**

**No turtles were harmed in the making of this poem (or frogs, for that matter)**

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Isolated Beauty

Delicate orchid,
Dancing in the pale half light,
       Graceful but alone.

**For the Flowers, Trees and Shrubs, I luv Contest**

Details | Lorrie Scheider Poem

Winter Love

Dimly lit, in the milky sky,
Washed out in icy blue,
The winter sun is hiding shy,
Hugging the horizon.

Here, in the crisp, biting snow,
And frost without thaw,
I let bittersweet emotions go,
To burry them in ice.

A cave for love gone wrong,
Blended into white.
Forever more shall it belong,
Deep inside the snow.

I love the winter wonderland,
This perfect palace,
A kind of cold I understand,
Within my frozen heart.

I embrace winter's fierce serenity,
Her strong and stoic face,
There is nowhere I would rather be,
Than safe inside her arms.

**For Constance' Scavenger hunt**