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Best Poems Written by Sharon Peeples

Below are the all-time best Sharon Peeples poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Classic Grumblings

The piano grumbled at his touch,
Playing fortissimo on command...
Nerves of steel snapping a string.

Ambitious to a fault, practicing the night into alarm,
Lizst spilled from the printed page
Like sour milk for a feral cat.

As he rose from the bench, music in hand,
An audible whispered relief rustled the curtains
And silence cradled the grateful room.

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

A Look Beyond the Gate

He rose at dawn to start each day,
And though the work brought little pay...
The cowboy loved his life!
To rustle cows and hit the hay
Beneath the moon...is what he'd say
Was perfect, with no strife.

The trail was long and dusty too,
But oh those ragged mountain views
Stirred music in his soul!
And by the campfire where the crew
Told tales around the dice and drew
Their luck with games not droll...

Comradery was thick and bold,
Where every story that was told
Became their common fate.
And when the dice lie still and cold,
Each cowboy knows he's growing old...
He looks beyond the gate.

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Swaddled In Loss

The night was silent through the winter freeze,
Though time was but a memory's regret.
While swaddled there within the cold night breeze,
Was everything her heart could not forget.
The life which she once held within her hand,
Lay on the ground of mortal wounds to die.
Then she was left to reminisce and stand
Beside the grave as children asked her, "Why?"
There is no celebration now of war,
As she bemoans the empty childless womb.
The rocking of her chair is never far
From what was taken...lying in the tomb.

As shots ring out to herald each today,
She bows beneath her loss and its decay.

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Modern Cowboy

I love that cowboy, lean and tall...
I see him lumber to the stall,
To cool his horse from ridin hard,
He tips his hat...says, "Howdy pard!"

I love that cowboy in his jeans,
With well-worn chaps and leather's sheen.
Those boots and spurs that fit so well...
The way he chats and sits a spell. 

I love that cowboy's manly ways...
Perhaps a rumble in the hay?
He's talkin rough around the guys,
But makes this lady swoon and sigh!

I love that cowboy on a ride,
I see him ropin...tannin hides...
But what's this ringing that I hear?
His trusty cell phone...loud and clear!

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

A View From Brainard Lake

is like a song the angels sing...
with melodies from rippling creeks and streams,
mountain jay and meadowlark chorus,
and swift melt of winter's snow.

It is like a painting from God's own palette
with emerald lake reflecting deep azure skies,
ermine snow-capped Indian Peaks,
conifers making camp with heady Christmas aromas.

It is like a picnic by the stream that tastes like
heaven on a cloud, air crisp-clean as morning dew,
families playing together by the shore....
and laughter coming easy.

It is like the breeze combing your hair in
unfashionable styles, and not caring.
It is like the call of serenity from earth's cache
of misty nature-bliss...and wishing always to stay.

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Selfless Tears

Because it is their duty call,
They march in silence through the halls
Where plans are being made.
The faithful hordes of one and all
Who pledge their oath as they recall
The times they were afraid.

Too young to die, to old to stay,
They know that war is not for play
Upon the battlefield.
Each day they fight for freedom's pay,
But in the darkness hear them say
Remembrance is their shield.

With thoughts of home and long good-byes,
They miss their newborn baby's cry
And fight internal wars.
They weep in silence....hush-a-byes,
With selfless tears in every eye...
They sleep to dream no more.

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Modern Cowboy

I love that cowboy, lean and tall...
I see him lumber to the stall,
To cool his horse from ridin hard,
He tips his hat...says, "Howdy pard!"

I love that cowboy in his jeans,
With well-worn chaps and leather's sheen.
Those boots and spurs that fit so well...
The way he chats and sits a spell. 

I love that cowboy's manly ways...
Perhaps a rumble in the hay?
He's talkin rough around the guys,
But makes this lady swoon and sigh!

I love that cowboy on a ride,
I see him ropin...tannin hides...
But what's this ringing that I hear?
His trusty cell phone...loud and clear!

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Snake Man

It was out on Dead Dog Prairie
Where the days were hot and dry,
That a cowboy known as Snake Man
Made the cy'ote start to cry.

He was mean and tough as leather
When he loaded up his gun,
And he rode his horse from dawn till dusk
While gath'ring up the sun.

His job was one most folks don't want...
He hunted rattlesnakes.
He took the skins and made some boots,
His livelihood to make.

So now you know the reason for
The name they called him by,
And why the cy'ote...robbed of meals,
Would often start to cry.

Details | Sharon Peeples Poem

Thunder In the Park

It was such a small thing.
He saw her walking along the shore...
walking away, as she'd always done.
Without a sound, he heard every good-bye
ever spoken between two lovers, slide effortlessly
into the bay, while the sun's reflection
dried the water into the smallest of pools.
His eyes followed her forever...clinging
like a new chick to its mother.
When she turned with a backward glance, 
his eyes quickly found the sand beneath his 
feet as the sound of his racing heart
thundered through the park.