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Best Poems Written by John Lawless

Below are the all-time best John Lawless poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I Am Winter

I Am Winter

I am cold – not heartless,
nor do I wish any harm.
This is just the way it is,
my gaze - a shivering chill,
my kiss - a frosty sting,
my breath - a numbing touch.

I come alone – uninvited
unwelcome, unappreciated
to lull to sleep the cycles
that need rejuvenation.

I am angry – for you fear me -
shut your doors, lock your windows,
deny me but your harshest looks
wrap yourselves in layers
lest we touch.

I am saddened – thus I whine
dancing around your houses
bending low the cowering trees
weeping sub zero tears
that never fall.

I am Winter –
and when my time is done
you will rejoice that I have gone
never thanking me –
for the beauty that awaits.


John G. Lawless
12/17/2014

Submitted to PD’s – Winter Poems #1 – Poetry Contest

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Met-A-Four

“Met-a-Four”


I “met a four”
when I was three
and oh the things
it did to me
and fingers counting
one-two- three.
When the four
brought in a five
all my counting fingers
came alive.
Reaching for the
other hand
said “times two”
is oh so grand.
They ran through
six, then seven – eight
danced with the nine
to celebrate.
Then the quantum leap
to ten
and shouts of 
let’s do it again.
Somehow the
ones and two and threes
increase in size
exponentially.
Still, my fingers are
mathematically smitten
seeking warmth
within a mitten.


John G. Lawless
12/4/2014

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Random Acts of Kindness

A crazy old man once told me,
“Heaven is made of the things you give away.”
It appeared he was next in line for heaven
as he had next to nothing left to give.
We shared a cup of coffee, conversation,
well not so much conversation
as a gentle walk through a magical forest.
His voice had not grown old or weary
of his quest to share his experience.
He stooped to pick up a napkin
discarded in haste, tucked it
in his pocket as we walked.
He shared his muffin,
spoke with a woman
pushing a shopping cart
through the Common.
She walked away smiling.
The muffin crumbs he left for the birds.
He nodded to the homeless,
waved to strangers, petted stray dogs,
offering all the brightness of his being,
warmth of his eyes,
quizzical wrinkle of his grin.
His rambling soliloquy
poked sticks at the universe,
offered hope to the ducklings…
yeah … the ducklings followed him
as if they knew that he knew.
As we approached the starting point
of both walk and oration he spoke
of the completed circle – not the
circumference - but the center,
said that the achievement was not
in amassing things to give away
but to offer freely those things
that you always have.  Time, he said,
is huge, as is a smile, a word,
a shared muffin, a moment
in the passing of an eon.
He left me sitting on a park bench
sharing muffin crumbs
and smiling.


1/25/2017

submitted to – Random Acts of Kindness – Poetry Contest

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Tolerance

TOLERANCE

I have little tolerance for tolerant people.
Those that will endure the corruption of
the truth, the erosion of meaning.  While at
the same time being intolerant of your
opinions, thoughts, and level of tolerance.

There is a quote attributed to Voltaire:
“I disapprove of what you say, but I will
defend to the death your right to say it.”

How many of the “tolerant” would be willing
to fight for our right to “disapprove of what
they say”?  Hush the crowd so that we might
be heard?  Unblock their ears and hearts and listen?

Does the present day “tolerance”
lack tolerance, lack understanding,
lack the ability to endure a voice that
is not in tune, does not sing the same 
song, does not pray the same prayer?

Or do they tolerate, put up with, the “fool”,
while denying acceptance of his opinions,
his beliefs.  Perhaps the fool is more tolerant than they.
Listening to what they say, watching how they
carry themselves, interact with those “different”
than themselves.

For they think him a “fool”, because they do
not know that he thinks, what he thinks,
and most sadly, they do not care to know.
They will tolerate his presence but not allow
him to be present, listen to his voice yet hear
nothing, speak of equality while lauding their
position, education, power over him.

For they are tolerant only of themselves,
of their ideas, their thoughts, their peers,
their alleged - equals.

They disapprove of us, and what we say,
and will defend their right to keep it so.

John G. Lawless – 6/9/2014

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I Long To Write a Poem - Just Right

I long to write a poem just right
Between the somber and the light
To tease the edges of a heart
To hook the reader from the start
Seduce them with a metered plea
A nuanced message: “follow me”
For I invite you to ascend
The peaks we’ll reach before the end.
To wander lost across the page
To tap the knowledge of the sage
To walk away wondering why
The answer is the endless sigh
Why poetry will never die
For words are fashioned without guilt
In whispering poetic lilt
That holds a hand, that tugs a heart
Bids you adieu as you depart
Rejoices in that gentle touch
That poems long for oh so much.



©5/24/2022

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Veteran's Day - 2015

Veteran’s Day - 2015


This day
	all flags
shed
	bloodied shadows
upon
	sacred soil
dotted
	with stilled crosses.

This day
parades
	weary soldiers

smile
	at the few who line the streets

march
	to familiar cadence

salute
	flag’s half mast history

weep
	as Taps resounds

across
	each generation’s tears.

This day
Peace
	will solemnly descend

upon those
	who kept her safe.



John G. Lawless
11/5/2015

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Un-Ruffled Feathers

I didn’t ask for help.
Yet someone heard
my inward crying voice
without a word.

“When the student is ready
a teacher will appear”
somehow it seems these teachers
pop up everywhere.

Their words were subtle
pointed darts
that caused me endless
fits, and starts.

There was no Hallelujah Chorus
no heraldry of trumpets din
just a presence in my life
every now and then.

I never asked for help
yet somehow they saw my need
and placed within my heart
an ever growing seed.

They cut the bindings loose
freed me from my tethers
drifted slowly through my life
without ruffling my feathers.


©8/10/2018

for New Rhyming Poems On Angels Poetry Contest

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The Fall of the Winter King

The Fall of The Winter King    

He had risen to power
fueled by a vicious and ruthless determination
to reclaim a lost throne.

His tactics had stunned the unsuspecting,
laid barren the fields,
blanketed the forest,
silenced the sounds of life itself.

A dictator, seeking no counsel,
accepting no offers of surrender,
driven by the desire to destroy
the kingdom that had usurped his throne.

Rumors spread of a daring bud – sprouting -
a tune hummed by the imprisoned trees
adrift on the whipping winds of war
in defiance of the heartless king.
A call to arms sounded
by the most gentle, the most delicate.

The first acts of open rebellion,
The resounding crack of the ice jamb
the aching roar of the river’s rage
surging over its banks
awakening those still held captive.

Slowly the insurrection took root
buds gathered in hidden clusters,
trees quietly bloomed
muffling the screeching gales,
offering safety to bands of rebels.
Flocks of warblers met -
feathered archers - hurling their
darting arrows against the glare
of a cold king’s horror.

Sweet grasses spread across
the brown, despoiled fields -
a verdant gauntlet tossed in the face of dread.
Flowers crept from thawing dungeons
waving their colors,
swarms of banished pollinators
followed the call to duty.

The ebb and flow of battle -
frosted retreats,
clandestine sunrise maneuvers.
The resurgence of heart,
the growing hope of warmth.

As memory of the chilled repression
faded preparation was made
to receive the beauty and bounty
of a new and peaceful King. 


John G. Lawless
1/11/2015

For SKAT’s Winter’s End – Poetry Contest

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Spring

SPRING


Testing the water with bare toes
I will recoil
to the misted edge of hoarfrost
softened soil
peek through eyes of Crocus
and Jonquil
at the emptiness my promise
must fullfil.

I’ll whisper to the branches shy
with cold
to remember seasoned stories
they were told
beckon to the passing birds -
alight
let us celebrate this
un-chilled night.

My warming fingers, reaching gently,
thaw river ice
as softened earth imparts my scent
to foggy spice
worms wiggle in the drizzling
April showers
as dawn tempts the stretching vines
climb empty bowers.

I will touch each aching heart
with sunshine’s gift
releasing all from stifling 
Winter’s grip
nestle with the Cardinals
and Jays
languish in renewals
warming haze.


1/2/2015
submitted to Seasons – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton

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Chasing Footprints

CHASING FOOTPRINTS

Some feet are bigger than others
none bigger than those
left by your brothers -
that you tried to fill.

The foot that Dad
would put “right up ‘ur arse”
and the one Mom said
you must put forward.

The meter and feet
we poetically treat
in attempt to conform
to rhythm and beat.

One foot we must
“take out of our mouth”,
while trying to get
“one foot in the door”.

Footprints that litter
the sands of our mind
that cannot be followed
by looking behind.

The foot of the stairs
the foot of the bed
the footsteps of night
the footsteps of dread.

Huge footprints of carbon
Al Gore and his ilk
charging the cows
for the grass to make milk.

One foot on the gas
One foot on the brake
one looking to give
one looking to take.

So don’t judge the size
or the depth of the root
nor measure the soul
by the size of the boot.

John G. Lawless 

submitted to – BIGFOOT (A Poet Destroyer contest)