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Best Poems Written by Kenneth R. Merrill

Below are the all-time best Kenneth R. Merrill poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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How I Loved You

Too little did I worry,
Too little did I know—
I wasn’t sure that you would stay,
But I never thought you’d go.

And isn’t it amazing,
How quickly day turned night?
It seems my eyes are failing,
For I cannot see the light.

O, they say that it is coming,
No farther than the dawn—
But it seems the sun is indisposed,
For it weeps that you are gone.

Some will call it merely rain,
But how are they to know?
Whatever do they know of pain—
Or how I loved you so?

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

Nine-Eleven

The buildings fell, and so my heart.
Not the very whole of it,
But that portion of innocence?
Fell that piece, or part.

And I beheld the evil,
Though a foreign thing to me—
Even as the buildings fell,
And my hope for humanity.

But the tower dared to rise again,
As I marveled at the view—
For the evil failed to triumph...
As my hope was born, anew!

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

Once a Garden

Once a garden dared to grow,
Despite the heat; despite the snow.
It paid no mind to wind, or rain,
And every spring would grow again.
Then came the spring it did not grow—
No one knew the reason, though.
Some said the garden was too old;
Still others blamed it on the cold.
But I believe it lost the will
To tend the rose, or the daffodil.
Loneliness, I believe is why—
For a garden needs a passerby.
It needs someone to smile and say:
“How glad I am I passed this way!”

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

Far From the Things of Man

It was the very cusp of day,
The last vestiges of night—
The cratered-moon, it sipped away,
And with it too, its light.

The sleepy sun was yawning 
As the beams did slowly wake—
Appropriate for such a thing 
As the day’s auspicious break!

What of night, now dreaming?
It will come the morrow rise—
Even as the sun retires,
And the winged-moon, it flies!

Smiling o’er a restless sea,
Beyond the things of man—
Proudly doth the moon appear,
For it has always been.

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

God and I Have Never Met

God and I have never met,
At least as I recall—
But I’ve seen the autumn turn to flame,
And a prancing flurry fall.

O the glowing stars of heaven,
For I know no better word—
But is not a whale a miracle,
Or as well a baby bird?

Once I saw a mirror lake;
Or maybe it was two?
Then again, there was a waking rose
With a lace of morning dew.

God and I have never met,
At least as I recall—
But if there is a heaven,
May forever it enthrall.

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If Summer Were a Color

If Summer were a color
Then it might be yellow-green—
Turned amber by the breath of fall,
Of the seasons in between.

And if Autumn were a color 
Would it not be orange, or red?
A smattering of scarlet flame 
In the distant Summer’s stead.

Winter is more a pallid shade,
I think it might be gray—
As the night grows ever longer,
And as shorter grows the day.

But Springtime favors every hue,
Dabs of violet, green and gold—
Even as the wildflowers 
Impatiently unfold.

Till again is framed the Summer,
Rather proudly on display—
As the nights grow ever shorter,
And as longer grows the day!

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

Has the Moon a Lover

Has the moon perchance a lover,
Could that be her cause to glow?
Or does she dream of brighter days?
I do lately wonder so.

For once upon a time, you see,
She brought solace to my soul—
She did comfort and enlighten me;
She dried my tears, and all.

And yet she shines for all the world,
As she mitigates the night—
Such a selfless and devoted one,
As she shares both hope and light.

And so it is I owe a debt,
For one so kind as she.
What gives the moon her cause to glow—
A lover, possibly?

Too busy making less of night,
She will likely always be!

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

The Butterfly

Once there was a butterfly 
Who wished that she could soar—
She was quite adept at fluttering,
But longed for something more.

If only she could be a bird,
Like an Eagle, or a Wren—
How proudly she could touch the sky,
And be admired then.

But the butterfly, she never soared,
And she never touched the sky—
Although she was admired,
And by every passerby.

Still sad it is, the butterfly,
She never understood—
That birds might be as butterflies,
If they only brightly could!

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

If Only This

The air it seems is napping,
It is quiet as a death—
The whispered wheeze of evening,
Muted as the final breath.

Like the hushful stir of shadow,
Sleeping reticent, and shy—
The quiescence of a foggy night,
Lifeless as an empty sky.

As soundless as a snowflake
Landing lightly on a hill—
Just as silent as a moonbeam,
And every bit as still.

How grand would be a wisp if wind,
How delightful too, the sound—
If only this, an autumn leaf
As it lights upon the ground.

Details | Kenneth R. Merrill Poem

By the Millpond, Musing

Beside the millpond, musing,
Of another day and time—
At times my mind confusing 
Both reality, and rhyme.

It is an easy thing to do, you see,
With the buckets timely turn—
What is this thing called poetry,
What from it do we learn?

Seems with every splash, and breath of breeze,
Do my thoughts go out to play—
About the mill and stand of trees,
I can hear them smiling say:

Take leave of all unpleasant things,
Fling open daydream’s gate—
Think now of clouds; the swell of springs,
For the morrow, it will wait.

So I set my worries finally free,
To skip, and play, and roam—
By the millpond, just my thoughts and me,
As the water spilled to foam.

Then I put away the imagery;
The meter, and the rhyme—
Give no more thought to poetry,
Neither toil, task nor time!