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Best Kelly Deschler Poems

Below are the all-time best Kelly Deschler poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.






November 25th, 2013


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

Gone Forever

Here I sit amongst the long grasses and the reed,
in a solitary place, where my breath is freed,
on an Indian Summer's evening on the lake bed,
autumn has come, yet the warmth has not fled.

Blazing orange skies, are mirrored to reflect,
I cannot imagine a scene being any more perfect,
as I looked up, an unfallen leaf caught my gaze,
spotlighted in the sun's last golden rays.

I noticed this crimson leaf as it began to wave,
the end of a short life that I could not save,
then swept away suddenly by the wind's rake,
and ripples formed as it landed on the still lake.

The leaf was carried away and my eyes followed,
then drowned by the water's surface and swallowed,
windy fingertips tugged it from the branch to sever,
existing once, like today, and then was gone forever.








Note - This was my original idea for the poem "The leaf",
but it was revised for a contest. I just wanted to post both 
versions of the poem.


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

We Push The Pen

We push the pen to make you feel
the gentle tapping of the falling rain,
the stinging burn of the summer sun
the heavy heart of despair and pain.

We push the pen to make you see
the vibrant orange of a monarch wing,
the secretive soul hidden in our eyes,
the golden sunrise in early morning.

We push the pen to make you taste
the sweetness of love's first kiss,
the bitterness of heartbreaking defeat
the richness of pure chocolate bliss.

We push the pen to make you hear
the clear waters babbling in the brook,
the forgotten laughter of our inner child
the cracking spine of a brand new book.

We push the pen to make you savor
the pungent petals of the red rose,
the crisp aroma of a tart green apple
the autumn air that excites the nose.

We each push the pen in different ways
with our own tone of voice and mystique,
an art form that no other can duplicate,
no right or wrong, just wonderfully unique.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

The Poets I Hope to Meet in Heaven - A Tribute to Chan Hurst 1979-2014

A few poems written by Chan Hurst, (Just That Archaic Poet)

I hope that we can find some comfort in them at this sad time.


"A Rational Explanation"

What must I do to see this through-
Unlock the world I never knew?
For all I've seen hath been untrue,
As all I've felt hath plagued me, too!
I am no more, past Deaths before
I've reached the end of Living War-
(to see through eyes both blind and closed)
A life to touch, but never know...


"Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep"

Every day, to God I pray
For answers to Life's enigmas
Patience lays in wait to stay-
To cleanse our Social Stigmas
We pass the time in our idle Dreams:
Like fallen stars in singing streams


"A Happy Ending"

Remorse and regret, I mustn't forget
Remind me that Life is a process of Learning
Indeed for I sorrow'd; 'twas always upset
As the Truth was met with painful discerning

But now my eyes are open-wide,
Grew to love what I once despised
I am no longer sick inside-
I just feel happy to be alive


"A Master's Approval"

No happier could I ever be,
(Or feel a joy's enormity!)
Than to know a Soul as Poe-
Would say he likes my poetry!


"The Poets I Hope to Meet in Heaven"

I pray that in my Eternity,
I'll meet Shelley, Poe and Emily
That we'll all sit down at a table round,
And at length discuss our Poetry!

And Longfellow, lest we forget
Lord Byron, Shakespeare, and beloved Keats!
If I prove their favorite Poet,
I could accomplish no greater feat!

For all my many silly musings,
This one I covet above the rest
For my Soul's toil- finally proving
That the Masters love me best!





"Heaven For A Poet"  by Kelly Deschler

My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to bed nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.

My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.



This poem was one of mine that Chan had faved, so I thought it would be appropriate to share this now and dedicate it to him.

I will always miss you, BP, my brother in poetry, but I sense that you are smiling down on us now.

I know that Chan idolized Edgar Allan Poe. I remember him telling me that someday,
he wanted to share a table in heaven with that "good ol' E.A. Poe".

So, Chan, if that is what you're doing now, I envy you, my friend! 

And, you said that you would personally invite me to that little gathering, remember? :)






Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

Forgotten By Tomorrow

She stands at the edge of the precipice,
looking down towards her future.
The last tears that she will ever cry,
falling from her eyes, 
then falling into oblivion.
She watches them drop 
as they disappear forever.
Yet, she laughs in the face of death.
Would it really matter if she took the leap?
She has been forgotten by tomorrow.

The wind blowing at her back,
pushes her to the edge.
Almost agreeing with her final decision,
and encouraging her to jump.

A thousand thoughts and memories
racing through her mind.

Her first day of school.
Her tenth birthday party.
The lonely, awkward days of her teenage years.
The day she discovered poetry.
The moment she first saw him.
The day she thought that she was worth something.
The day when all of that became a lie.

Every memory 
that never made the pages of a history book.
She has been forgotten by tomorrow.

She exists to no one but herself.
In the blink of an eye, she decides her fate.
Her feet leave the ground,
and yet, she did not fall.
Out of nowhere he appeared,
and carefully grabbed her hand.
Pulling her back to reality,
saving her from the brink of disaster.
He held her, as her tears stained his jacket.
Old tears of sadness,
mixed with new tears of happiness.

She was remembered by yesterday.
Before she was forgotten by tomorrow.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

Creature In The Night

Where cold stars exist in the dark,
serene winds whisper to trees
and scarce human ears can listen,
lone songs wail in the distance
in frozen moon's silver spotlight,
a mark left where paws had paused.











Written by: January 16th, 2015


Inspired by creature #3 Coyote

nette onclaud's contest - NIGHT CREATURES


This poem was also inspired by actual events. A few weeks ago, I discovered 
some large animal paw prints that were left in the snow, near my home. I later
found out that the tracks were made by a wolf.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

A Joyless Job

At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.

My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.

"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.

Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.






November 18th, 2014

Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

Can You Spare A Teardrop

I cried for so long, so many nights,
and now no more tears can drop,
I'm all out, do you have some to spare,
cause you know once I start, I can't stop.

I go on for days with a heavy heart,
no tears fall, though inside I'm crying,
I feel empty, hollow, dark inside,
a soul dead, and still is dying.

Can I fill a bucket from your well,
the sun came out, dried up my rain,
I'll take them carefully, try not to spill,
cause I've got a need to ease the pain.

That feeling of washing away the sorrow,
with trickling tear-water, clear and cool,
soothes the soul, relaxes the ache,
can I dive right into your swimming pool?

I need to pour out your flowing brook,
to keep me crying a river for today,
I want to hold despair in my hands,
please let this melancholy feeling stay.





Out of Water contest
placed 14th



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kelly Deschler Poem |

After The Storm

Lightning flashed, blinded my innocent, trusting eyes.
Thunder ravaged my soul, and forced out my cries.

Destructive winds threatened, ripped me all apart.
Raindrops, the tears that ever flooded my heart.

Dark clouds were ever-present, in turbulent air.
Yet, no winds could stir the flowers in my hair.

No longer waiting for that storm to pass the hill.
I left it behind, and walked away by my own will.

A rainbow shined beautifully, yet arched into a frown.
As every now and then, the rain still comes down.

I have stepped right over you, like scattered debris.
As the sun's rays now light down a new path for me.





For Shanity Rain's contest - "After The Storm"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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