Things Poems - Poems about Things

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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River’s Diary 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...

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Monologue of a Cliff 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...

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A soggy teddy bear lay on the shoulder of the highway— head twisted, limbs askew, its damp fur clinging to gravel and its sightless eyes beseeching heaven. I watched from the backseat, wondering if it was dropped in sorrow or thrown in rage, or left behind after something that didn’t leave anything else. Two women in white nightgowns ran across their front lawn on a frosty full...

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I love the sights of Christmastime from manger scenes to mistletoe. Sweet, joyous sounds pervade the air from "Praise the Lord" to "HO HO HO!" I give to those who are in need, for God says, "Love your fellow man." Then when I shop for family, I buy them every gift I can. The carolers...

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Doing Adult Things Working long hours House work Solving everyone’s else’s problems Too much drama Coffee in the morning Kids always hungry Running errands Calendar full Late to work Running red lights Exhausted into the night What's for dinner? Always 5 o'clock somewhere Adult beverage in hand Always busy Always behind with laundry Everyone...

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Things going the way they are going, is really not good; For today, things are not going the way they really should:- Politics is, and will always be, about power and political control; And today’s politicians are musky mongers, both young and old:- Time for us to be about going and getting things as they ought to be; Particularly with...

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Fear and other things I have recurring nightmares and tell myself to remember the dream in the morning but I'm unable to recall the gruesome dream I think it is about nuclear war  When a seaman, I was often afraid of the ocean especially in the Pacific, where waves look like  the mountain that even unbalanced hangar ships the ship on top...

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She tells me she loves me, but I see the way her hands hesitate, hover in the air before they touch me, like she’s afraid I might crack beneath them. I know what she means when she asks, "Are you okay today?" She’s not asking about today. She’s asking if I’ll disappear into my head again, if my silence will feel like a...

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the three things that t h r i l l b e a t ...

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As I get closer to see things I only see the details of it Scrutiny the mundane of its process Make judgement on the said observation But when I see things at far end I see clearly the whole beauty of it The distance is clearly seen as photograph In the eyes of my lenses I wonder I make judgement as I see...

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Once a poem alit did linger To tarry nigh upon my finger Then having saying said Once perched a fleeing fled...

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Today as I sat in my wicker chair taking in the sweetened air no swallows flew above my head I watched the warming ground instead, it seemed that every ant and bee was working much the same as me taking in the breath of spring and doing useful outside things ...

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