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Best Poems Written by Renee Garrick

Below are the all-time best Renee Garrick poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Two- Face

God made me
as he wanted me to be,
and in that regard I am perfect.
I am clumsy,
and vain,
and a little arrogant at times.
I’ve been stepped on
and walked all over
and in turn and have stepped on and walked over others.
I am easily annoyed,
and not easily satisfied.
I think I’m always right
and everyone else is therefore always wrong
Quick to judge,
slow to listen.
How could He create someone so terribly wrong?
With so many flaws and so little to be proud of?
I must have been a mistake.
But He doesn’t make those.
God doesn’t make mistakes.
Because sometimes,
I am kind,
and caring.
Sometimes I am the pillar of strength for those about to fall.
Sometimes I spend hours listening
without it once crossing my mind to judge.
Sometimes I am self-conscious and shy.
And even vulnerable.
And most often,
My arrogant, vain, judgmental selfish side
is what makes me smile through it all.
And if I couldn’t smile through it,
I couldn’t pull those I love through it with me.

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From An Ungrateful Daughter

I blamed you and I know now that I shouldn’t have.
I am sorry.
But he was never there.
An empty seat 
at the dinner table every night,
a lonely walk down the aisle at my wedding,
was all he ever was to me.
I never got the chance to yell at him,
to spill my heart out,
to vent all that anger that had built inside me 
bursting me at the seams,
so I blamed you.
I learned to shoot a basketball,
and how to whistle really loud.
He was never there to teach me,
or give me a hug when I needed it.
Yet somehow I always felt loved,
and cared for.
It was just yesterday that I realized I never needed him.
Everything I needed you gave to me, 
but you never once heard a thank you.

It was just yesterday that I realized I had a mom,
and a dad,
all along.
You gave me that.
You taught me to cook, and how to comb my hair.
You taught me how to read and write.
You taught me to stand on my own two feet,
and how to be a woman.
And I think it’s about time you heard 
a thank you.

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What a Child Doesn'T Know

She searched for God
in the arms of a man
who was searching for an orgasm
in the space between her legs.
He thought the blood disgusting,
she watched her innocence flow away.
From her tears she hoped he would glean
how much pain he was causing
but soon she had to speak the words.
He told her it hurt less
the more you do it
so she braced herself for him to enter
again.
She called him the next day
and the day after that.
Nine months later
still no answer.

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Lesser of Two Evils

I only feel like a woman on the outside.
Because I like to win,
And men always win.
They are bigger.
They are stronger.
They climax faster.
And you never find them on the couch on a Saturday night
eating a pint of ice cream and bashing their significant other…
The don’t love as quickly,
And when they love they don’t love as hard.
They lust and call it love,
never knowing the depth of the commitment love requires.
They confuse the momentary pleasures of sex
for real emotion.

Women willingly drive full speed and crash into it.
Love.
Knowing it could very well kill them before all is said and done.
She pours her all into it until she can no longer distinguish 
“me” from “us”.

Men don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves,
They don’t feel.
Women don’t so mush wear their hearts on theirs sleeves
as plaster them on their foreheads.

Men don’t cry unless they are alone
Shielded by four walls which would never betray their secret weakness,
Women openly use the shirts of friends as tissues.

Women are weak.
Vulnerable, soft, feeble and open.
They feel pain,
heartache,
and heartbreak.
They live and die by the 
idiocy,
absurdity,
senseless and
stupidity
that is love.
Men are strong.
Cold, hard, unyielding, and closed.
They feel no pain,
no heartbreak,
no hurt.
No blind devotion,
No illogical attachment
No unwavering loyalty
No love.
Wait, who is the winner here again?

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Hand Games

Each beat is just as important as the next.
Every moment is precious,
one hesitation can destroy everything.
Any moment lost
is lost forever,
never to be seen again.
Never can one truly appreciate the simplicity of things coming
until they are lost,
perhaps forever.
So hold fast to the moments
That you can play the game,
because the sounds of the games are crisp and clear
when you can play with a lover.
Fear would be solo play.
flailing silent.
Hitting the emptiness,
Tearing the insides,
Out.

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Heartbroken, Heartbreaking

Acid, flowing rapidly
a Niagara down my cheeks
brushed away quickly.
The clock on the wall un-moving
reading four fifty- two
stopped there to keep the fall flowing
to keep me from forgetting
since forgeting would hurt more than the memories.
April 5, 2002, 4/5/02, 4:52
The clock stopped ticking, stopped ticking away,
the ticking stopped, it had to, it sounded so much like...

April 5, 2002, heartbroken, heartbreaking
but faithfully
I will wait for you.

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The Soul

Sleeps more peacefully than the heart and the mind.
Only truly awoken by the tender touch of a lover
Unless of course by the searing pain of a love
Lost.

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Addicted

I didn’t know what had happened.
Suddenly my world was turned upside- down.
One day he was fine.
The next day he was sick, very sick.
The day after he was lying helpless in a white hospital gown on a bed not his 
own,
and he seemed to be getting stronger.
The day after that he was gone.
He used walk around the house high.
Smiling and laughing like some demented fool.
Once he knocked my mother’s favorite crystal glass off the dining room table and 
all he did was laugh,
laugh right in her face.
But of course he had complete control.
He could stop whenever he wanted to.
They just made him feel good; they weren’t addictive like that other stuff.
Each time my mother, or aunt, or grandmother confronted him about it,
this was his response.
But soon he needed more.
He slowly but surely progressed from a puff to a snort to a
needle in the arm.
Until one day he was addicted,
completely and totally dependent.
The days when he leapt out of bed on Saturday to play basketball with my 
brothers were gone.
He simply lay there in the hospital bed,
hopeless and scared. We were all scared.
 
As I sat my his side with my Mama I remembered the last time I saw him outside 
of that white hospital gown—
at a family barbeque my mama invited the whole family to.
The sun was shining brightly and I was sweating pretty heavily but as I looked 
over at my uncle I saw he kept shivering, violently.
I wanted to talk to him real bad 
and no one else seemed to notice how lonely he was,
so as frightened as I was by this strange shivering I went over to him.
He spoke kindly to me but most of the time he just kept scratching himself a lot, 
and rocking back and forth in his chair, muttering to himself,
like he didn’t even know I was there.
It was just days later that he passed.
 
 
Mama said he was out of his misery now,
in a better place,
and that God would give him a second chance.
I resolved never to walk that path.
Idiots around me say I will become curious,
that it doesn’t hurt to give something a try.
My uncle was curious too.
I love him but I cannot be like him.
Curiosity has its limits.

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To a Love Lost

I sit and I wait,
a thin film of black obscuring my visage,
for the day you and I will be reunited.
Alone in my room,
I sit and I ponder--
when that day will be I have not decided.
I sit in all black,
the same clothes I wore
the day you and I were divided.
The exception being
the black veil
I now wear to protect what you prided.

No other man shall lay his hands nor his eyes on me,
not my body, my soul, nor my mind.
The feel of your embrace, the caress of your lips
without doubt they were one of a kind.

I've made my decision, painful but clear
to resolve my inward strife.
The only way
I will feel your warmth again,
tomorrow I end my own life.

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I Locked Myself Here

Choking, struggling, against the chain wrapped around my chest.
Huge lock and shifting mockingly against my skin.
Laughing as I struggled harder and harder to break free.
When did they get here?
That night? That night.
The night I let you in
to my mind, my heart, and my body.
You had your way,
then walked away.
And I lay motionless,
chained to the bed
from which I have not since moved.
Here, 6 years later I continue to struggle,
struggle against the damned chain.
That for 6 years has constricted each breath, each hint of a smile, each inkling of joy.
In vain many pulled and yanked and tore at the lock,
at the chain.
But I would not budge.
I begged, pleaded, and prayed you would bring the key,
set me free.
And finally, after 6 years I realized my right hand, sweaty and tender
hurt as though something was cutting into my palm.
I looked down and opened the offending hand.
There lay the key.