Best Journal Poems
Yes, that is the role of the Teacher, as Shams was to
me – showing one ‘who they are’, so they can stop
bleating, crying at night, and never again be afraid.
Rumi
Oh beloved,
I'm like Rumi without Shams.
A shivering summer soul,
secretly stalked by wild white winter wolves.
A chiffon child chiselling chimerical calligraphy,
cursed with invisible ink, silent in sentimental sighs.
I've become the son of solitude,
tired from torture and torment,
descending like surreal sinking sunsets shaded in scarlet,
yearning for a dawn where we can blend like sunrise.
I have no desire to write
in your journal of sorrows,
but you cut my veins to bleed.
What is pain without pleasure,
or a poet without his poetess?
Oh mistress of the night,
I'll forever wait for you to adorn my garden,
to finally inhale the fragrance of my roses.
I'm the oil lamp in all your blackness.
Sometimes I may flicker like a candle,
but I will always reignite to create a spark.
Change the eternal chambers of my heart.
The day you stop reading my musings,
my pen will forever slumber.
Oh daughter of darkness,
let me salvage moonlight then place it into your eyes.
Guide my quill to engrave upon your shores.
Together we will sail away from Satan's spawn.
I'll shield you from twilight's beasts,
protect you from demons with crimson claws,
emancipate your wings to fly from an illusionary island.
Because,
you love the moon,
but it's the stars you gaze at,
hoping their stardust will illuminate your heart,
before they fade into nothingness.
Oh my seclusive sweetheart,
I will strum strings of serenity,
so you release tears of tranquillity.
I may not be the most handsome blossom,
nor the most popular prolific poet,
but I gift you my art and alliteration.
Some may say I'm romantic,
but I am no judge of what is exotic or poetic.
We can't put all our faith in petals and poetry.
I'm no emperor who deserves an enchanting empress -
merely a broken butterfly in your precious palms.
Life is an absent bride,
so I'm not afraid to bleed to death,
in the hope of soothing tomorrows.
Categories:
journal, devotion, love, romantic love,
Form:
Free verse
“It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.”
David Levithan
I will forever be as pure
as white virgin fibres,
in your onyx
field of ravens.
When the
star-crossed
silhouette of
bleeding ink,
ricochets like
vindictive arrows,
within your
hollow walls,
quenched with
muted echoes,
I am reminded of
your ebony eyes,
cradled under
black decomposing flesh.
I shove my
misunderstood identity
into a pocket journal,
embalmed with a
fragrance of peace lilies
and rhapsodical prose,
amidst doleful dusks
painted with
past mistakes
hidden beneath
narratives of sinful
tangerine nights.
But, remember
that your fallacious
name is an
erased footnote
in the history of
relentless runes.
My tormented tongue
has become
immune to
your false screams.
There is no need
for close-fisted
fingers to flip
through pages,
of the story
I left behind,
as visions of
venomous verses
cremate into
ashes in my mind-
as mere memories
of monologues from
ice cold monsoons,
which don’t define me.
I’ve sculpted fragile
paper boats and
watched them ferry my
demons,
floating on daisies
in a ravishing rivulet
of truth and tranquility,
whilst you chase
impassioned imprints
within chapters
written in patterns
of insincere phrases.
I am a survivor of
your storm,
drawing dreams in
drowsy darkness,
blooming my
amethyst artistry,
which vibrantly
beats to burgundy
evolutions of a
blossoming flower,
who's scent you
will never savor.
My petals
may be fragile,
but I refuse to remain
prisoned in toxic
traits of a
weathered wildflower -
I only attract
majestic butterflies.
Categories:
journal, angst, emotions, heartbreak, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
"Although I'm familiar with the art of poetry,
no one has inspired my muse
to inscribe my own journal. -
so I placed my soul in her hands." Silent One
I used to be a journal,
daily dips of ink dripped
deep into my dilapidated soul.
Supporting sorrows of the one
who wrote with endeavour,
'letting go,' of the blackness,
infested within her veins.
Endless chapters of vents,
tears, fears and misery,
bleeding from ruptured arteries,
etched upon the fresh fibres
of a canvas of compassion.
In times of fantasy,
I was a field full of her
supressed wildflowers.
In reality, I was her diary
of deep, destructive desires.
Now her pen rests,
with a sharp nib pointing at me.
Like a shield, preventing
her ink to reveal the
truths behind metaphors.
I'm an anthology of her emotions,
wondering how the next chapter
will be written - is there more to confess?
But in her mute melancholy,
I can think of reasons to express,
but many more to remain inkless.
Yet no other 'ink-toxication' can fill this void -
I'LL FOREVER REMAIN WORTHLESS
as what purpose do I have
without her words perpetually
nourishing my empathic existence.
In this slumber, I collect dust,
feeling bare, but in her rejection -
hungering for her verses to soothe.
Categories:
journal, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
she's being read
notes she wrote down
in her
tattered journal
to wake moribund
memories
of old;
beset with
late-stage
dementia,
her husband
never leaves her side;
the end is nigh, yet his
voice...
her silken comfort.
Categories:
journal, age, husband, imagery, memory,
Form:
Verse
"As water flows down when a faucet is turned on, thoughts and feelings pour out into a journal cleansing the heart" ~ By Poet
I keep a journal, a treasure chest of memories.
Where I record each day’s activities
Where I divulge my innermost secrets
As my feelings overflow into each blank page,
I get the therapeutic effect of unburdening my heart.
Though I scrawl down in messy hand,
It is a slice of my heart and I treasure it,
More than any other document I have.
Every day I empty my heart into its pages,
My pen bleeds words in red.
I paint me as I am, honest and truthful.
I don’t want to be a sham.
Here I lay bare my life,
Fraught with aches, dotted with smiles.
My longings and my heart aches
My expectations, my disappointments
My triumphs, my defeats
My search through every nook n’ cranny for success
My plunge into the nadir of despair on defeat
My moments of escalating joy
My dark hours of crippling distress
Everything I want to be,
Everything I fail to be.
Journaling, poetry, and prayer fill my day.
They help me keep all my boredom away!
Categories:
journal, best friend, how i
Form:
Free verse
85TH BIRTHDAY –
Journal IX
Nostalgia figures no
time span
An event of many,
many years seems no
more
than a few
Looking out on the
world with the same
eyes
Memory is tricked
Ah yes that, but
wishfulness too
Events colors
take on a magical
gleam
The mind-body
frolics with actions
of a child,
Hop scotching,
kicking the can
Long lost sounds
ghostly renew
All pain is
forgotten
In favor of some
drowsy awareness
One is surprised
that memory has, for
the
moment, erased
that pain
Periods of nostalgia
increase
The slipping away is
frightening –
What is death but
A complete slipping
away –
In these last few I
shall covet reality
RESTR
Categories:
journal, introspection,
Form:
Lyric
In the dusty cobwebs of my inspirational mind,
I’ve written volumes of scripted details, pondered
Epic thoughts, and let mine imagination roam the
Fields of complete abandonment.
A wild child of freedom’s reckless spirit, I’m dived
Head first into the untamed wilderness of the human
Stratosphere, seeking beyond the unknown country
Of the mental unconscious mind, then free fallen into
The waves of insecurity, rescued by mine own self
Sustaining life preserver, called survival.
Line by line I’ve written into my life journal, leaving a
Legacy behind me worth preservation’s finest gilding,
Bound are these pages of mine existence with love,
Tenderness, and freshly cut rose petals, of remembrance.
Reflected in the cover of my life book, are the joyous
Faces of those whom loved me beyond words of
Expressions comprehension, without emotions tears
For they celebrate my life, not with sorrows regrets
But with prides respect and honor.
Through hell’s fire I’ve rambled and traveled, being
Tested by friend and foe alike, but I’ve lifted myself
Beyond the flames of reality, bathing within the warmth
Of a divine faith of loves power everlasting.
I’ve been given the spark of the eternal, it breathes
Within me, it drives my spiritual being, to over come
Ignorance, intolerance and ambience sloth of spirit.
At times I’ve been tempted to dance, against the flame
That flickers in the night, teasing me, taunting me,
To choose wrong or right, but mine feet stood stead
Fast, yielding only in my secret world of dreams escape.
Yes I’ve mused amongst the fantasy realm,
Flying, soaring into the abyss of illusions mirrors,
Clashing as a bird smacking at the glass of reality,
But I’ve awakened wiser, a soldier better prepared
For the battle known as life.
In this journal I bequeath all that is the best of myself,
To those for whom I’ve touched, and in memories moments
Of stilled realization that I’ve gone, dare let no tears blind
Thine vision let no words of sorrow spill from your trembling
Lips just do me the one last favor for which I ask of thee,
Simply look upwards, and smile.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
journal, adventure, art, history, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Slowly drifting, drifting away, and it feel likes I’m drowning.
I'm drowning, my eyes are drowning every time they surf into the world of pleasure,
Seas and seas of bodies creating electricity yet God hasn’t struck me for such sin,
Come closer, Come closer, I freeze as I lose my soul to the enemy, the screen, the bodies I’ve never touched,
This encounter leaves me feeling so ashamed and afraid.
What if they know?
Would they think I’ve changed my nationality?
Would they now think I live in a country of red ,orange, yellow, green, blue, violet.
Heal me, but every time I receive the baptism, I progress into a another stage of sickness,
I envision myself, my body, that I see in such high regard, hanging highly from the ropes of betrayal,
They made me thought that it was okay
Is that you last words? God looked at me as he was ready to pass his judgement.
Yes father,
And my body transformed into the place I belong,
A sea of fire,
And this time I wasn’t sure how to swim, and as I take my last breath and reminisce, I realized I've been here all along, it didn’t burn this bad, maybe because the world leaves you to believe that you have a thick skin and no heart.
I was born sick, I don’t love it, command me to be well.
Categories:
journal, addiction, christian, color, heaven,
Form:
Free verse
The thoughts flowed freely
In the diary
Keeping memories
Intact in the mind
Nayda Ivette
11-20-2015
Categories:
journal, feelings,
Form:
Jueju
Every moment is fleeting fast
The present will soon become past
God has gifted this time to man
To live and use for a short span
Our clock slowly ticking away
Minutes and seconds not to stay
What's done for God is eternal
Infinite gift in life's journal
Each page but a moment in time
As we draw nearer to sublime
for as the sea, time's waves are vast
quickly moving, eroding past
We can't save time, nor we it save
Our mighty ego we will waive
When our purpose we have fulfilled
Time will recede, at last be stilled.
April 6, 2023
for "Collab With Jo poetry contest"
by Joanna Daniel
Categories:
journal, destiny, future, life, time,
Form:
Rhyme
I am a man not at all eternal,
but eternally deep as my soul is rising.
I am devising my demise;
I am breaking my disguises with my own bleeding fists.
I am having fits of madness, and my madness is joy.
Oh, what joy there is in madness.
Truly, when you see the sadness for what it is:
God flipping coins over your head
and it is a coin with only heads,
while you keep making the wrong call-I tell you no tales,
these spells are for your ills, my friend.
Take my hand and swallow that bitter medicine,
for together we go into madness.
I'll light the way, for I tread here every day.
I have made my home in hell
and found joy at the top of my head.
Categories:
journal, allegory, allusion, god,
Form:
Free verse
a life’s work encapsulated in poetry
wisdom wrought through forgiveness and acceptance
bitter-sweet moments endured and embraced
the journal is nearing completion
it lies open in her gnarled hand
the old pencil stub, now blunt
gossamer petals of
the wintersweet drift
onto the page
its sweet scent
in the
air
Categories:
journal, inspiration, poetry,
Form:
Shape
All alone she sat and cried,
The hurt she felt she could not hide.
The man she loved was sleeping around,
And what hurt most he made a journal in which she found.
She had trusted him with all her heart,
Then finds out he had been cheating from the start.
Revenge and getting even were now what was controlling her mind,
Hurt and ashamed for being so gullible, and being so blind.
She thought about all the wasted years of being his wife,
And how this one little book could destroy a life.
Their children now are almost grown,
And she wondered if either of them had ever known.
She waited up a little past four,
When she heard him fumbling with the door.
As he walked in she flipped on the light,
And the guilt on his face he could not hide this very night.
Trash bags and suitcases lined her living room floor,
She said I want you out of this house and never again darken my door.
He said have you gone nuts are you completely insane,
She just held up his journal and said this should explain.
Categories:
journal, husband, life, wife
Form:
Verse
“A leather journal and pen sit on a nightstand by a flickering candlelight ready, as the wind spins my thoughts.” Quote by poet
Autumn alters the richness of reds and amber hues.
Teal and orange sky infuse with waning butter
and fine woven gold embracing the horizon.
Fiery pinwheels spinning downward, amid others.
Reaching over to my pen and leather journal
to write before the words won't come again.
Drawing out a sigh, unbidden tears arise
finding love once more in the brilliance of nature.
Could I once more find fulfillment and love,
instead of living eternity quite alone?
Categories:
journal, feelings, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
sweet compassion
surrounds
my
heart of uncertainty
patiently flavoring
my
vision of life
sorting
fiction from truth
trusting
everyday Angels
leading
me forward
across
parched deserts
of
discovery
believing
believing
Categories:
journal, life
Form:
Free verse