Things Poems - Poems about Things

Play staged, they came, mostly strangers to the stage, as first time viewers, to watch the play - 'Stranger Things: The First Shadow'. Noisiest crowd I ever heard, au naturale, to boot. They ate popcorn, mumbled throughout, if bored they left, if frightened they screamed, if spellbound they gasped, if awestruck they sighed, if saddened they moaned. The live stage play in Charing Cross Road...

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About my soul, I feel at peace. I know that it will make its flight to Heaven after that last breath. In thoughts of Heaven, I delight. Why am I sure of what transpires when children of the Savior die? Can I provide proof positive that what I hold to is not a lie? I can declare that I have faith: “the...

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The road is long, unexpected happenings I found the perfect place to live, not knowing the crisis I would endure The waves rolled in, The world spun around me As I literally fought for my life While I recover, I have many thoughts I don't focus on the disruption to my new peaceful place I am grateful for the timing, the lighter side of...

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See I know you go home to him When think you should be Coming home to me I try Lord knows I try Why am I asking myself You deceive him when you say You love him Are you taking me for granted You want me baby But he won't have it What you say is Contradictive to me What one We gone do that one But think you...

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We're merely quests on this planet lest we forget ~ Our life is but a wink in the wake of eternity AP: Honorable Mention 2025...

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It could be the shadows you are hearing, Every evening they grow Longer, darker, Until They devour themselves To become the night. We are all shadows shouting As the night approaches Thinking we are fooling the foolish Thinking we were right. Below the surface… Hoping we were right. ...

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There is order to my chaos an urgency to make things right I have ambitions I can taste dreams that must be set in motion once I see the morning light There is order some my chaos a plan when all you see is madness I fear that I’ll run out of time I long to leave my affairs most orderly A fine book...

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We can do hard things Yes we can, we can be the better man, or woman. If that seat looks uncomfortable, bring a cushion. We do not walk alone, our world is not so dark We all have our superpowers and our individual spark, We shine and make our mark. And it shouldn’t feel scary, we need to embrace the journey. Jump into joy, express...

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Things are always happening Sometimes, very few things Other times, everything breaks loose It is those times when you do what you have to It may not always be the right thing to do It may make everything worse than before Then again, maybe it won't It's impossible to tell until you do it So, have a beer or two or maybe...

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the floorboard that gasps when stepped on the blue bulb pulsing in an amber-lit room the coffee stain colonizing your blue shirt— some days, we’re nothing but a tiny inconvenience sharpen a pencil too far—it snaps gargled too long, you swallow by accident sending flowers too early— some days, we’re nothing but the clock that limps or leaps some days, we are the red shirt always...

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Don’t Worry About The Small Things Life is too short to worry. Burdens are exhausting. Always stressed. Water under the bridge. We all have problems. We are consumed. Life can be overwhelming. Even the small things. Not knowing. Leave your worries behind. Do you trust in him? Do you ever look above? Sometimes, wonder. We...

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The things she left behind Her tombstone stood amongst others who shared the same fate The air in the cemetery Heavy With the the weight of the souls it carries Her epigraph read: Beloved mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend Her family there to pay their respects Tomorrow they will lead a protest Her son left behind...

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I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. l have lean1ed the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:12-13) Content in...

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March, 2025 She walked past me today. Her gaze hollow, her pace a ghost. I can see crimson threads weaving down her arms— not gloves, no. I think she’s going to the Cliff. I wonder if she’ll return. Most never did. April, 2025 She sat at the bank all day and stared at my ripples— It is what I’m proud of the most. I tried to sing for...

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March, 2025 She visited today, I’ve seen her kind— in a silk white dress, and a pair of scarlet lace gloves. Something soaked my sparse grass. Tear or blood? I’ve never learnt the difference. April, 2025 Her steps were particularly unstable tonight. We watched the tides together, sometimes I envy how they flow— No tears were shed tonight. (A tragedy for my grass, but good for her) I wish she...

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