Journal Poems - Poems about Journal

A Journal

He found the journal on the train
Of a young little girl with no name
He sat there reading through her thoughts
Of dragons and Lions in their mighty roars
Or the golden apple that was caught

Each page filled with dreams
Some fairytales with glorious queens
While other thoughts circled around the naive plots
Then he found her wish of becoming an

JOURNAL OF A LUCID CONDEMNED

Too many bruises
to recall the story
of my scars.

Surviving all these disasters:
an invaluable blessing.

Remaining whole
in this jungle
where liars,
hypocrites,
and impostors
thrive.

No joy
in shining through cowardice,
submission,
and betrayal.

A procession of zealous traitors,
blinded by hatred.

Always on edge
since the placenta,
like a child soldier
forced to adapt
to human savagery.

Most of my wounds
are invisible.
Sometimes forced
to accept the darkness
of my shadows.

A gesture of charity
to hope for

A Journal on Profundity

So... today I begin my journal.
Where do I begin?
How do I begin?
Without, within... the confines of a page, like a prison wall the surrounds my thoughts.
"You must color within the lines" I recall my kindergarten teacher instructing us, otherwise we won't graduate and move on to first grade.  
And at 58, that merciless and

I read your journal

Reading your words, your poems, your feelings,
it makes me hurt more than any physical beatings,
it was a glimpse in your mind, all your madness,
I read about your love, heartbreak and sadness,
I see a glimpse of your broken past, all the pain and aching you didn't broadcast.


I understand now, why you are the way you are,
why

Journal Of Journey

Dates and their import
I was raised to revere them
they are true benchmarks 
of  a mineral rich load
littered with capsules of time

GRANDMA DYNAMITE JOURNAL

The story of a Criminal Grandma
Not a good one
A crime spree old lady
One that is witty, Grandma Dynamite
An Old lady who robs and steals
She uses dynamite to explode
Stealing from banks
Never saying thanks
Even Police warrants her arrest
Grandma Dynamite has a way to contest
It’s all about steal
She doesn’t conceal
Grandma Dynamite follows through on her robbing desire
It’s dynamite

The Autistic Journal

Autism is always a hard pill to swallow,
Like planting a bullet on the skull
Drifted from life's wonders
As if I've slipped away.

Stigmatized like a cockroach
And knocked back from footy.
With my body soiled and discoloured
Embarrassed and humiliated on the face.

Mama asked me about school
Hoping it was okay,
Yet its darkness doesn't fade away
Like living in the bull pit

Journal

"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

WONDERING HEART

My heart is like an open book
That only she can write in it
A journal difficult to open
More like a lock with no key
Yet she opened it easily

My heart never gathered courage
To tell her how I feel inside
Yet I have been in love with her
Before she knew me
My heart is like a dungeon
Holding my feelings hostage
Waiting

Journal

Pirouetting through
the pages of my mind,
placing inked pathways
elegantly timed

The Scent of Words in the Air

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

My journal

You have followed me 
from childhood to adulthood 
always by my side 

you touching my hand 
started a fire within heart 
my hidden passion 

my thoughts and feelings 
you've captured on your pages 
my words captivate 

tattered torn and bruised 
you escort me to readings 
as spectators snap 

others have touched you 
but they can't

Journal Entry

In a nearby village, a man unfurled his manifesto of machinations.
Shotgun blasts echoed the summit until he turned,
cheeks flashing in the biting cold.
A bouquet of flower petals,
explosive roses frozen in time,
sculpture at the snap of one’s fingers.

shafts of gentle

laughing sun rises,
writing its shadow stories
in forest journals

From Purgatory to Paradise

The summer fog has not yet lifted from the enclave. The candyfloss glow of the sun suspended above the horizon of the valley in the Jock of the Bushveld Concervancy where I have made my new home reflects on the ghostly blue of the dam in front of my house. 

early morning 
dense fog blanket--
burn

• Short Journal Poems
• Famous Journal Poems
• Best Journal Poems
• Read Journal Poems
• Long Journal Poems
• Journal Quotes