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Best Poems Written by Phillip Ortman

Below are the all-time best Phillip Ortman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

Sometimes

As I entered, she was already speaking.
"But I opened my eyes, yours were 
closed like a sleeping child's.
The movement of your lips proved otherwise.
My heart caught up in my throat,
it was sublime."
I couldn't stay here, weak knees
locked legs, propelled me out the door
that shut silently behind me. 

Inside dark hallway, my shaky
legs gaining confidence.
Myriad doors open at my passage.
Their lights briefly caress my face,
stubbornly I move on.
As all things must this hall ends.
And I stand silently cursing my foolish soul.
The door before me opens grudgingly
as sigh passes, cross threshold. 

In this room, spare décor 
bearing the effects of entropy
in a thin divide of dust.
I am not alone.
My eye's reveal nothing. 
Yet my skin flushes, my body
filled with the intoxicating scent
of your neck that summer. 

My mind calls to flee,
as the dust resettles around
my seated form. My hand 
absently sweeps clear
a spot beside me. I gaze to my right,
and I see her face again,
her rose hewn lips silently
form, "I trust you."
The words still make me cringe;
however, could you place
value where I myself do not?

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

Sursesen

Time dragged on,
Withered fingers languidly moved in circles
Casting dream fragments back into the air,
Only to resettle in a different pattern
At the edges of his mind.
His thoughts strayed
To souls arrayed in resplendent glory,
Myriad spirits en masse ascent.
He had never liked the work,
The look of fear, 
Or worse yet of ignorance.
He had never stopped though,
The end justified the means.
Contemplated radiant streaking lines,
Blurred faces coursing to fate.
He frowned at remembered tears of joy.
 
Time dragged on.
Withered fingertip tapped absently
On tired lips pursed in thought.
Memory fragments flared 
To fade then fall
Collected like sediment in layers,
A mosaic of lives.
A cacophony of voices
That had slowly dwindled
Till silence, no sound
Save that of the wind
That passed through the emerald
Canopy above his head.
His mind wound and wandered,
But to where?
He frowns to know purpose.

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

Scattered

Air silt memories 
Gathered on soil
Dirty heaps of fear and smiles, 
Rages and heartache. 
Burned to nothing, turned to nothing. 
Save this; 
This is mine- 
Cupped hands 
Hold you near me. 
This bit of flesh dust that is 
So much more, and so much less, 
Father. 
Embraced with weary hands. 
Dirt smudged, teary eyes. 
His flesh stained mine. 
I looked down through dust, 
Through hands, 
Through memory, 
Through years. 
 
A balmy night, gathered 'round 
Sparks and blazing.
Wood smoke clothing, 
Face burning,
Eyes stinging. 
A fire more for wonder, 
Than for warmth. 
I always loved fire. 
But fire never lasts, 
It burns and consumes, 
Till it devours itself. 
Utterly like and unlike 
The great worm of time. 
Is eternal destruction the 
Same as infinity? 
 
"Dreaming is the same as dwelling. 
The past is no more real than the future." 
His memory voice condemning. 
How can I not look back? 
Memory is all that keeps 
Him real, here with me. 
Makes this dust so much more 
Than filth, so much more 
Than a stain that the earth 
Can' t see, can't feel. 
This is mine, much more than his.

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

As the Moment Passes

As the moment passes, 
I walk alone. 
Solitary in my thoughts,
I make my way through a sea 
Of blurry faces.
I wipe my eyes, not crying. 
 
You had been so full of life, 
Made me see the world 
Could be enjoyed;
And that the sun never sets, 
The world only turns away. 
You showed me the magic of rain, 
The many shades of gray, 
How beautiful a voice could be, 
When you spoke to me. 
You showed me possibility, 
And how the world could be 
Found in me. 
 
Now that world is lost to me, 
You took my spirit with you. 
Took the color from my world. 
My eyes don't touch the sky 
They linger on the depths below. 
You said you'd never let me go. 

In my bed, you're still with me. 
My eyes are closed, 
But visions haunt me 
Your frail hand in mine, 
Frightened smile shaking
While life left, 
And you left me here. 
Alone to great the sun, 
As the moment passes.

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

There Is Always Forever

Last night you came over,
Fast asleep, eyes closed.
Breathing deep, you emerge from the
The corners of my mind, and enter
My lungs, my soul.
Sentiment breeds landscape.
A room with two doors  
And no escape, my hands 
Should be empty but they are not.
Your expectant eyes,
Full of so many questions,
Causes my tired soul to gaze
At the faded walls. 
My melancholy fades as I sigh, 
And turn towards you.
You're in the passenger seat
Gazing at the gray farmland
We pass, November.
"What's on your mind?"
"These fields look so tired."
A wistful shake of head.
"So do you."
A sad smile she shares,
My favorite. It's times like this
She seems most mine,
Most fear. My arm a limb
To cling to over precipice.
"I haven't been sleeping."
A gentle caress of shoulder
Follows admission,
No solace, but given freely.
None of it real.
 
If this doesn't exist why 
When I wake,
Do the scars feel fresh?
The void in my heart aches
Where you used to be,
Till I asked you leave.
You are gone, and love
Was supposed to follow.
Do I still live on 
In your dreams?
A regret and a stain-
All that remains of something
So precious, something	 				
Thought to last forever.
And though the years have
Marched on silent
With backs turned, I can still see you-
A retreating shadow at the edge
Of my vision.
When will the years blind me
Enough to to hide you from my mind,
Keep your form so far removed,
That your name escapes me.
So that when you visit,
And we walk hand in hand
In our world of dream, 
My only thought will be,
"Who is this Mystery beside me?"
Wishing that you were real,
And that when my eyes opened
To greet the world,
I could hope to meet you,
Know your name,
Feel your love,
Forever.

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

The Burning Ground

My feet firmly planted below me. My past
Behind me, slowly becoming less real.
And before me, lies a future
A Land I want to enter, but the gate is closed.
So here I stand, My path bright coal- waiting.
My eyes looking for someone
Or something to blame, turn inward.
"You must wait" stubborn child voice,
Intones, inside. "Do not choose,
That which is easy. Do not choose
What comes freely. Do not choose
Sure victory. They have never brought you joy."
"But have they brought pain?"
I shouted back inside smoldering.
"Without great risk there can be no great gain.
Fight for this, wait for the moment,
Strike when sure...the gate will open."
A surge of power engulfs me, then escapes
Like spent air. "But I have fought for nothing...
I am tired of nothing." "Then let this path be
Your burning ground." So I stand at the gate,
Man turned phoenix, the touch of fire,
Rebirth in flames, nothing will be the same.

Details | Phillip Ortman Poem

Ill At Ease

If disease were aware 
Would it look up from its meal, 
And look me in the eyes? 
Would it dab its mouth 
Removing any trace 
Of you from its face? 
Would it be annoyed 
At the interruption? 
Would it notice the loss 
And grief decaying my spirit 
Before its eyes? 
Would it feel guilt, 
Or turn away from my misery, 
And continue its repast?