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Best Poems Written by Tom Beaudet

Below are the all-time best Tom Beaudet poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Believe Me, My Love

Preface: Written for my wife on our Anniversary less than 13 month's after the tragic death
of our 22 yr. old son.

Believe Me, My Love

I felt helpless when the earth just stopped,
and tragedy scourged you with its whip.
Watched your soul bleed faith, heard your heart cry love,
and I winced with every drip.
The loss and pain you’ve suffered through,
should now render you immune.
Believe me love,
my love for you is deeper than your wounds.

When I looked into your heart,
I could see the welts and scars.
The reasons that I loved you were as countless as the stars.
When I looked into your eyes,
tears flowed like spring monsoons
Believe me dear,
my love for you is deeper than your wounds.

You worried me, which fed my fears,
but surprised me with your fight.
Amazed you could get out of bed,
when dawn poured her morning light,
You’re stronger than a hurricane,
and you eclipsed just like the moon.
Believe me honey,
my love for you is deeper than your wounds.

My gift to you,
if there were no rules, for our anniversary,
is to take you back , baby close your eyes,
to the way things used to be,
you’re curled up in bed with your three boys,
fit snug like silver spoons.
Believe me darling,
my love for you is deeper than your wounds.

When I reach into your heart,
I still feel the welts and scars.
The reasons I admire you are as endless as the stars.
When I melt into your eyes,
sadness lingers as life resumes.
Believe me, my love: my love for you is deeper than your wounds.

You’ve made my life a banquet,
you’re my soul mate and my lover,
I fell in love with my best friend,
and married a wonderful mother.
Your songs of love and encouragement remain constantly in tune.
Believe me my love,
my love for you is deeper than your wounds.

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Dream of Life

Last night I dreamed you walked through the front door,
you dipped Mom over backwards, ‘til her hair swept the floor.
I took a deep breath and I could taste your cologne,
thundering footsteps downstairs, we all knew you were home.
You caught Ronnie midair and twirled him around,
and gave Rob a squeeze as you put a diaper bag down.
Both dogs came running, crying sounds only dog’s can sing,
a beam of light danced across the room from your wedding ring.
We welcomed your soul mate, your beautiful bride,
and smiled ‘cause your son has your same blue, blue eyes.
Though we hadn’t yet met, we already knew her,
and your son looked just like you in an old baby picture.
Returned was the glow in your brave mothers face,
as she cuddled her grandson with her maternal embrace.
The kisses were soft, and the hugs were so tight,
no tears could be found in our house last night.
Music was playing and no words were spoken,
and for just this one night, our hearts were unbroken,
our hearts were unbroken.
Bouncing your young boy up and down on your knee,
your face was so proud and your eyes so happy.
I turned to discover that everyone was here,
all our family and friends as it was this past year.
There was food, drink and laughter, no room left to stand,
you swung your arm around your mother, as she kissed her young man.
I stared at mom’s face, as you brushed back her hair,
life returned to her eyes, her soul relieved of despair.
The kisses were sweet, and the hugs were so strong,
we knew that this visit wouldn’t last very long.
Music was playing and no words were spoken,
and for just this one night our hearts were unbroken,
our hearts were unbroken.
As dreams often do, they subside much too fast,
so you kissed us one last time before this magic passed.
Sometimes, I just don’t want to wake up.
Sometimes, I just don’t want to wake up.
Before sunrise could spoil this special occasion,
everyone stood and gave you a standing ovation.
You proudly picked up your son, hugged your wife, kissed your Mom,
bowed twice to us all, gave your signature point, 
spread your wings and then you were gone.
The kisses were so soft, and the hugs they were so tight,
there were no tears on our pillows, in our beds last night.
Music was playing and no words were spoken,
and for just this one night, our hearts were unbroken,
our hearts were unbroken.
We thank you Dear Lord, for all that you give, 
but we long for the Dream of Life, that Ryan never lived.

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Where the Smoke Goes

Preface:  Written for my parents on their 50th wedding anniversary

Where the Smoke Goes 

I went to the place where the smoke goes, from all our blown out candles.
I found pounds of Cape Cod beach sand there, broken kites and long lost sandals.
Over eighteen thousand days flown by since your promise of “I do”,
wandered all around 
this place and found, 
more reasons to love you. 

I climbed a forgotten apple tree, so I could easily survey.
I saw mountains made of sawdust, valleys of bills you had to pay.
Lumber stacked from projects past, knick-knacks from church bazaars.
I reminisced, 
just how much I missed, 
finding old chewed up cigars.
 
I held my breath and dove into the lake made from our tears.
Baptized again, saw family and friends that I’ve missed over the years.
They brought me all the breaths you’ve held, fifty years worth put together,
and showed me the boat 
you kept afloat, 
through rough seas and stormy weather.
 
I found rooms of things you went without, to give us what we needed,
and realized then, how much we’ve reaped, from the garden that you seeded.
I saw every time we counted on you, stacked higher than the sun,
I heard loved ones say, 
the times you turned us away, 
added up to less than one.
 
They showed me five happy childhoods, filled with loving memories,
and read five prayers for fifty more, Happy Anniversaries.
I couldn’t find a way to show how much, we love and thank you both,
for promising “I do”, 
and yes, you two, 
made damn good upon your oath.
 
The smell of homemade biscuits slowly cooking filled the air,
but awoke before I tasted one, in my Adirondack chair.
I left the place where the smoke goes, from our blown out candle wishes,
but I’ll come back each time, 
I need to find,
the treasures my soul misses.

c Copyright 2007

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Flesh & Blood

Preface: A poem written to my youngest step-son, whom along with his brother, I raised and
consider my very own sons. I presented this to him on his graduation from college.

Flesh & Blood

One cold and snowy winter day,
a man met two young brothers.
Man fell in love with both those boys,
man then fell for their mother.
A silent promise whispered,
vowed to love both as his own,
man set sail just like Columbus,
to places foreign and unknown.

Man worked on science projects,
and he helped with book reports,
he took the boys for haircuts,
and signed them up for sports.
For boyhood rites of passage,
man gave Swiss-Army knives,
boys carved away some hours
of the best days of their lives.

Man sent the boys to private schools,
because he knew it would be best,
especially for the oldest boy,
who wasn’t the least bit studious.
The younger boy more scholarly,
never swayed by fad or crowd,
both schoolboys very different,
both made man very proud.

Man seldom missed the brother’s games
for he was their proudest fan,
but concealed amongst the hockey bags,
was the gift they gave the man.
Being important to a child
was worth more than a priceless Monet,
being dependable as dark skies each night
and high tide every day.

Like a ship that lost it’s mooring,
man lost track of where he’d been,
but was saved from likely wreckage,
by the gift they gave to him.
The boys made the man responsible,
and the surprising reality,
is what brings out the worst in some men,
brought the best man out of me.

Of my flesh, you may not be,
you may not share my blood,
but deep inside my heart and soul,
burns a father’s sacred love.
Winning a million dollars,
would dwarf in comparison,
to the treasures you’ve bestowed on me
since you became my son.

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Poor House

Poor House

I’m so tired but I’ll be working ‘til the last day of my life,
this disease just overwhelms me, I think I caught it from my wife.
I’ve got nothing for a rainy day or for our golden years,
I keep sending half my paycheck off to MasterCard and Sears.

Sometimes I have to wonder where our meal will come from next,
then my wife says, “Don’t you worry Hon, I still have all these checks.
Why wait if you want something, just buy it now instead,
enjoy it while you still can, 
you can’t spend nothing when you’re dead”.

If I try to put my foot down, we always wind up having sex,
then before my clothes are back on, she’s got my American Express.
I worry what we’re gonna’ do, when our hair has turned to grey,
she’s wants a condo in Miami, but the poor house is where we’ll stay.

I worry how we’re ever gonna’ put our girls through school,
when she’s turning up the thermostat and we can’t afford the fuel.
Having all these bills to pay doesn’t worry her at all,
‘cause she’s mastered the art of borrowing from Peter to pay Paul.

I would have left her years ago if I wasn’t so in love,
when I still had a pot to piss in, and a window to throw it out of.
It’s true I may be up the creek but I’m not paddling,
I’m almost doing splits on this slippery slope I’m straddling.

I’m so tired but I’ll be working ‘til the last day of my life,
this disease just overwhelms me, I think I caught it from my wife.
I’ve got nothing for a rainy day or for our golden years,
I keep sending half my paycheck off to MasterCard and Sears.
I would have left her years ago if I wasn’t so in love,
when we still had a pot to piss in, 
and a window to throw it out of.

c Copyright 2007

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Today, I Guess

Today, I Guess

I stood in the shower, ‘til the water turned cold,
felt like a tough day was about to unfold.
On the edge of the bed, I sighed and got dressed,
I’m gonna’ really miss someone today, I guess.
 
The pot of coffee I made was a little too strong,
I lost count of the scoops, and perked it too long.
Like a wet, heavy blanket, you can’t throw aside,
the last page of our fairy-tale, storybook lied.
The bill must’ve arrived for past sins I must pay,
I guess I just really miss someone today.

Picked up the newspaper, again and again,
I’m seeing the words but I don’t comprehend.
All my thoughts and my focus, just seem to digress,
I just really miss someone today, I guess.
The sun may be shining, but my skies are grey,
I want the hot sun to burn these dark clouds away.
Like eyes on a painting, I’m staring so far away,
I guess I just really miss someone today.

The unscathed proclaim, that time heals all wounds,
still I’m haunted by flashes from a warm afternoon.
Perhaps more time is needed, but nevertheless,
I just really miss someone today, I guess.
Feels like my ship's docked in Melancholy Bay,
I guess I just really miss someone today.

My spirits always pick up upon her arrival,
her loving smile is essential, to my soul’s survival.
Before falling asleep I whisper, “Darling, I had a bad day”,
she says, “I know you did honey, I had one yesterday”.
We get up every morning with great loss to address,
that’s what happens when you really miss someone, I guess.
The sun may be shining, but my skies are grey,
I guess I just really miss someone today.

 c Copyright 2007

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Still Listening

Preface:  Written for my wife our 1st Christmas without Ryan.

Still Listening

Ryan heard me whisper,
Merry Christmas to his mother.
He hears Rob and Ronnie laughing,
at funny stories of their brother.
He hears the prayers, 
he hears the praise,
family and friends have given.
Ryan still hears everything,
while he waits for us in heaven.

The screams of fans in hockey rinks,
every time he scored a goal.
His fingers tap-tapping on the lid
of a brand new can of skoal.
The cymbals of his drumset,
Santa brought when he was seven.
Ryan can hear everything,
while he waits for us in heaven.

He heard our wails of anguish,
the warm night of August seven,
Ryan has heard everything,
patiently preparing for us in heaven.

So sit back, my love, 
and watch the boys unwrap,
as the Christmas tree's still glistening.
Close your eyes and whisper, 
"Merry Christmas, Ryan",
because I'm certain he's still listening.

c Copyright 2004

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Promises & Prayers

Promises & Prayers

Happy Birthday Ryan, 
our gifts to you this year,
have no bows or wrapping paper, 
just promises and prayers. 

A promise to speak your name each day,
to try to sleep well tonight,
a prayer that you’ll watch over us, 
always keep us in your sight. 

A promise we’ll always think of you, 
before we drift away too deep,
and a prayer that you’ll come visit us, 
in our dreams when we’re asleep. 

A promise you’ll be our waking thought, 
before the sun begins to rise,
a prayer angels see God’s approving smile, 
mirrored in your blue, blue eyes. 

A promise to share your stories,
and your pictures we’ll proudly show,
a prayer you’ll have enough to reap,
you had such little time to sow. 

A prayer that no more tragedies, 
ever again catch our family off guard,
broken hearts will stay broken forever, 
but hearts are stronger when they’re scarred.
Broken hearts remain broken forever, 
but love grows stronger once they’ve scarred. 

So Happy Birthday Ryan,
as the days turn into years,
forever in our broken hearts, 
and in our promises and prayers

Details | Tom Beaudet Poem

Her Jackpot

Preface: Written to a dear friend who is battling oral cancer.


Her Jackpot

Sometimes you see it coming
but other times you don't
Sometimes it gets you by surprise
still other times it won't

It can stop your world from spinning
It can rob you of all hope
It can make you close your eyes and pray
for strength enough to cope

Maybe there's this Master Plan
that no one here can see
Challenges we all must face
before we reach our destiny

We’re forced to play the cards we’re dealt
and the lesson Kristen taught
is to go “All In” with a lousy hand
when it’s the only hand you’ve got

Each chip a moment in her life
Precious years in every stack
This sister, daughter, Mom and wife
bravely stole her jackpot back

Her jackpot is the strength she found
that she never knew she had
Her courage and her attitude
when things were looking bad

Her jackpot is the love she felt
the proud way she faced her fears
While her family patiently stood in line
just to wipe away her tears

Her jackpot is her life to live
each day another win
Turned pages in her novel
a new chapter to begin

It’s hard to win the jackpot
when you're dealt a lousy hand
But it's not the cards,
it’s how you decide to play
when life doesn't go as planned

c Copyright 2008