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Best Poems Written by J.D. Cromwell

Below are the all-time best J.D. Cromwell poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Sinister Eye

Sinister Eye

Something sinister this way comes. 
Ominous clouds have gathered overhead. 
Unkept rhythm of beating drums. 
Relentless feeling of unnerving dread. 

Fallen leaves wrenched from their slumber.
The sun has fled from the frightening scene.
Flash of light and rolling thunder.
A distant creatures cry sounds like a scream.

Falling rain crashes on the ground! 
The violence is like a nightmarish dream!
Roars and howls blot out other sound!
What brought about this dreadful fiend?

The evil eye has now passed by.
The fiend has lessened its projected fear.
But those with wings still dare not fly
The other sounds you can begin to hear.

As quickly as the Devil came,
The calmness returns like it was before. 
The clouds depart to halt the rain,
And the sun bares down its warmth once more.

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Enough

Enough 



Jonny likes to lie and cheat
Daisy’s had enough
Suffocates him while he sleeps 
Now he’s not so tough 

Bennys into gaslighting 
Susie grabs a knife 
She stabs him several hundred times 
before she could think twice 

Joey is an aggressive sort
Chloe bought a gun
Shoots him twice in the head
To end that tyrants fun

Bobby’s tired, goes up to bed
Mary finds her bat
Proceeds to club him in the face
because he called her fat

Murders in the headlines 
They make quite a hit
All these women killed their mates 
cause they were tired of their...

~J.D. Cromwell

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The Walk Home

A walk home 
...And there he lie in fetid squalor,
Upon the chaise in vacant parlour...

“What befell this young man?” a query.
A sorrowful tale - tis quite dreary. 
Tricks! The superstitious mind doth play. 
Bested - a quite unfortunate way. 
Let it be warning for thy wary. 

The bell tolls twelve. Ah, tis mid of night! 
Begins this tale of perilous flight!

****

Under a waning and gibbous moon.
Two lovers embrace, their hearts in tune.
But low! The time has come to depart.
The unspoken story of his heart,
Like the scent of rose and song of loon.

Kissing hand of his hearts desire.
His thoughts? - to be by bedside’s fire.

A bid of “adieu” with a dons bow,
Steps back a few, turns heel and strolls dow’
The road that leads to where he was birth’d. 
To lie, to rest, and dream of loves worth. 
Puts his head afloat like a ships’ prow.


Shorter route taken to hurry home. 
A path, where woodland creatures roam.

Cirrostratus shades the gibbous moon. 
The darken’d wood increases the gloom. 
Acorns fall and the rustle of leaves,
Things brought about by a sudden breeze,
Arises fear of impending doom.

A snap of a twig!, an owls, who!
“Who is there?” He calls, “Do I know you?”

Pace is now hasten’d, legs moving quick!
The forest floor - has gotten quite - thick?
Alas! Cirrostratus falls away.
But moonlight shows he hath gone astray.
Gasp! In which direction must he pick?

Internal compass, he’s no bearer. 
The way he chose - was to his error.

Whilst he stumbles his way through the dark,
Tries to think of thy love - in the park. 
But evil things climb into his head. 
Spirits and ghosts and creatures undead,
Fiery fiends with wings of a lark. 


As swaying boughs sing their creaking song,
His panick’d heart forces him along.

In this wood he’d be wise not to dwell.
Slipped on a rock, lost balance and fell.
Flat into, the devils walking stick!
The bushs’ thorny fingers that prick,
Brought a nightmare of demons from hell.

This wicked place he knows he must leave.
From this hell - will there be no reprieve?

A clearing ahead to his surprise!
Unloved home of Victorian rise.
He flees now without hesitation.
Could it be, a place of salvation?
But no! ‘Tis a place of his demise?

He runs to the abandon’d dwelling.
He thinks it safe - but there’s no telling.

Clothes dirty, torn, and tatter’d.
Body cut, bruised, and batter’d.
Rightfully weary from his torment,
And fully filthy from his time spent,
In the wood where his mind was shatter’d.


His reality hath come unwound.
He spans the porch in a single bound.

Broken windows, front door opened wide. 
No hesitation to hide inside. 
He finds his way into the parlour. 
In hopes, to wait out witching hour. 
His nerves on edge, the door slams behind!

Turns his head, - comes to face a mirror.  
Dishevel’d form, his final terror!

Horrid face reflects in pale moons light. 
He grasps his chest in that final fright. 
Arrested heart stopped! from terrors hold. 
And contribution from tales of old. 
Brought about this young mans blight!

...And there he lie in fetid squalor
Upon the chaise in vacant parlour...


~J.D. Cromwell Aug. ‘19

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Drudgery

Drudgery


Monday I’m groggy
Want to stay in my bed

Tuesday’s a bit better 
But wish I were dead

Wednesday is hump day
I don’t care one single bit

Thursday’s pre-Friday 
And I’m ready to quit

Friday drags on
I need a few beers

Saturday’s cheerful
No need to shed tears

Sunday’s much needed 
Off early to bed 

‘Twas a long week
There’s another ahead...


~J.D. Cromwell

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Writing

— Untitled —

Defining, refining, and timing the rhyming
And hours of thought to perfect the fine line-ing

Clerical, lyrical, sometimes, a miracle
To get a line right could feel a bit spiritual 

Hoping, not doping, and a lot oh “oh nope-ing!”
But when you are through, there will be no more moping 

~J.D. Cromwell

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The Corporate

The Corporate 

Where did you get your ill gotten gains?

From broken backs and forgotten pains?

And will your wealth wash out the bloodstains 
From the blue collars of those that came 
To work for your pennies while you reign?

No matter to you, - you feel no shame...

For YOU live the life of luxury.

That is fine but you fail to see,
You garner wealth and give measly.
Then your shareholders want more from thee.

So you move the jobs to over sea.
It causes strife but
- you lack empathy .

You bend
You rend
You mend
And look

You begged 
And borrowed 
Bought
And took

You justify the pain that you cause,
“Just business” you say “no need to pause”

Rules don’t bind you, you just break the laws.

Your lobbyists mend by paying the pawns.
Your workers being thrown out on their front lawns!

But you don’t care to undo these wrongs...

All you’ve created is insubstantial.

Your sole purpose? to increase your financial 
Needs to support your gluttonous life,
While the workers toil and suffer in strife

People are starving, their kids they can’t feed...
Where does greed end? How much wealth do YOU need?

Details | J.D. Cromwell Poem

The Well

The Well

The Watcher watches all the watchers, for the Watcher knows
That what the watchers are watching, is something to behold.

But what are they watching? The Watcher can’t tell.
For it appears to be only a plain looking well.

The Watcher asks and pleads for the watchers to state,
Why they are watching this plain looking well and what is it’s fate.

But the watchers don’t budge, they don’t make a peep.
Why they are watching, that secret they will keep.

The Watcher is frustrated, he wants to know, why?
The Watcher gets ANGRY! so mad he may cry.

He YELLS! at the watchers, he abuses by voice!
But the watchers keep watching like they don’t have a choice.

The Watcher watches their faces he studies their stance,
The Watcher looks on for hours, not just a glance.

Curiosity sets in, the anger subsided.
“I’ll examine this well” the Watcher decided.

The Watcher scans the surroundings, then peers the inside.
Too dark to see bottom - a good place to hide.

The Watcher looks, he stares, he steadies his gaze.
A peculiar scent arose, put his head in a daze.

He stumbles backward, refocuses eyes.
The Watcher stands like a statue, can’t move but he tries.

He stares at the sight, can hardly believe.
Frozen by fright, there will be no reprieve.

The Watcher stands and he stares like the watchers before him.
All the watchers scared stiff, the sight dreadful and so grim.

The watchers all watching, all watching in line.
The watchers keep watching, bound to watch throughout time.

There they all stand watching that plain looking well when...
A new watcher happens upon them, starts watching, and then...

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My Life

My Life

First 40 went by
In the blink of an eye
At times I would try
But would fail and then cry

Impressed “friends” with fast cars
Too much time inside bars 
My head was so high
It was visiting Mars

My heart always knew
What it wanted to do
But my head was too dumb,
So parties I threw

With no clear direction 
I suffered depression 
My fear of rejection 
Has made false impression 

Now.
Memory’s affected
Joints are infected 
“Friends” are deflected
But heart is protected 

Head was psychotic
A little demonic 
Now it’s melodic 
And sometimes exotic

Found the love of my life 
In my moment of strife
Cut old ties with a knife 
And made her my wife

2 kids were from me
Good wife brought it to 3
Now I drink tea
With my new family 

What’s the next 40 hold?
To assume would be bold
But with my head on right
It is sure to be gold

~J.D. Cromwell

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Intro Friday the 13th Open Stage At Fourpence

Ahem!....

‘‘Tis the 13th on this Friday 
The gathering hast commenced
O’ splendid eve for this soirée 
I hope you brought refreshments

For on this day of misfortune 
The unluckiest of days
Strive to change your misconception 
We will tempt you several ways

There will be songs that are sung
Instruments played for all
Brought about by hand and lung
Poems tear down the wall

Vocals range from soul to choir
Music made from plucking string 
To perform, ‘tis their desire 
Do enjoy what it may bring

Leave your prejudice behind 
It’s not needed here
We accept all creed and kind
In this atmos’phere 

Now come one and come all 
Do keep your voices low
We’re bound to have a ball
So please enjoy the show

Now! Without further ado
Kris is here to welcome you!

Details | J.D. Cromwell Poem

The Pest

The Pest


As we waste away the hours 
When we’re wanting more
On the nightstand there be flowers 
And our clothes upon the floor
When we thought this time was ours
Comes a scratching at our door 
Then our mood surely sours
Because of that beast that walks on  four



~J.D. Cromwell