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Best Poems Written by Jessica Wheeler

Below are the all-time best Jessica Wheeler poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

The Fallen

She rests beneath her willow’s weeping rain,
As autumn strips them bare behind its theft;
Of slender leaves and tears, they stand bereft,
Yet sorrow, like the wind, begins to wane.
For all that falls to earth won't fall in vain,
And what escapes our sight has not yet left;
Though heavy hearts must carry now this heft,
It's how we know what’s lost to still remain.

And from the tears, the grieving willow weeps,
Its twigs and leaves descend to softened ground,
Reclaimed by earth and soil from which they grew.
For all that's ever buried merely sleeps,
And what we mourn as lost again is found,
When spring returns, and life begins anew.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Melancholy Me

Melancholy me, since Kelly's gone away
Far beyond the sea, and gone from everyday
Stage by stage I've wept, but finally, I see
What I must now accept; a melancholy me

It follows and it looms, a threat to my clear sky
Though never quite consumes, insists that I comply 
She's not for me to find, no path for me to track
So rain, I will not mind, if I can't have her back

Now happiness and joy, are never felt alone
The grief did not destroy, but left an undertone
It’s useless to contest, what lingers underneath
I'm trying, at my best, to walk beside the grief 

And maybe I am jaded, but I am past denial
The anger has since faded; I've learned again to smile
I steady more each day, but walk the tightest rope
And mind my every sway, through threats by wind, I cope

Relentless my implore, and pointless it would seem
She went, she is no more, to see her is to dream
I begged her not leave, yet still, she did not stay
forever, now I'll grieve, my melancholy way
 
I'll live despite her death, as long as I embrace
What’s come of her last breath, and breathing in her place
Because it's mine to keep, it's just my cross to bear
I'll bury it down deep, but always, it is there 

And though I did not choose, it's what I would prefer
For I can't bear to lose, my memory of her
The pain is in my heart, means Kelly too, shall be...
Because she’s just a part, of melancholy me.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Poop- There It Is

No pushing or breaking of water
It was a c-section that brought her
But this is about
What wouldn’t come out
A poop just as big as my daughter!

Perhaps it was pain medication
To clog up and cause constipation
Nurse said I must show
They won’t let me go
Till poop- there it is- defecation!

Determined, I pulled an all-nighter.
That turd was a hell of a fighter.
And then with my tush,
Turns out I did push!
And poof! I was seven pounds lighter!

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Lost

You fall like a feather to the ground 
I can no longer blame the wind 
For your change in direction
You slip through my fingers
Each time I reach out
The wind takes you
You're willing
You are
Lost

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Autumn in New England

Autumn 
paints New England,
staining hillsides, wrapped
in red,

garnishing the trail
beneath my steps.

The season spills
like cabernet across
a changing landscape;
where the maples 
bleed
their aging, amber 
leaves.

I stroll
amidst the falling flames,
below the blazing 
treetops,
the crisp air thick
with life, that's soon
to rest.

I walk
through spreading fire,
listen to leaves, their stories
rustling underfoot– 
As Autumn’s vivid, 
vibrant gift prepares 
to vanish 
from the view.

And I 
have never known
another place, to burn 
so bright in red defiance, 
and I stand, here
in the art of it– I breathe 
inside this portrait 
of an Autumn 
in New England.

Humbled, though
it hurts
to hold what lingers
and what leaves
in just one breath–

A quiet, crimson sorrow
cloaked
in boldest, brightest
hues–
where the branches bare
their warmth in
celebration–

where the greens
refuse
to simply fade to gray.

One last breath
of leaf and smoke,
one final stroll
beneath the burning trees,
another look before
the fire dies
in winter's restless
wind.

And when
the reds lie blanketed
in white
upon the hillsides of
New England,

I'll think of Autumn’s color, and
let go;

Knowing that I had it–
if only
for a season.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Stages

It cowers in the corner,
newly born.
I turn my spite-soaked back,
riddled with resentment
and pull the thin veil
to sink beneath its cover.
I will not watch it crawl,
but it breathes,
a shadow
at the edge of my own
threatening to merge.
It waits, as I do
for nothing
while I ignore its cries
and mine.
And I turn to stone
silently refusing
the darkness at my feet.

~

It screams
a piercing shrill
that grips my core.
It pokes and presses
every bruise,
clawing at my skin
with high-pitched scratches.
Enraged, I seize it.
A thunderous wrath
echoes within,
bubbling from the chambers
of my worn-out heart.
Relentless waves 
crash with intent 
to swallow
as a storm 
unleashes its fury.

~

Fear consumes,
as the burning truth
nears the brink.
Boiling rage simmers
to a helpless desperation.
I plead for a reprieve,
a momentary pause
in overwhelming anguish.
My offers fly free;
promises,
compromises…
myself.
Left waiting,
tossing pennies
into an overflowing well,
only to watch
my wishes spill.

~

Rain cascades
from hollow black eyes,
as its touch
pierces my chest.
And, 
  the dam
     breaks…
flooding the space
with the pent-up poison
that's been swelling within.
I swap my veil
for a heavy blanket 
of fog
as hope is smothered. 
Color dulls to gray,
and I surrender
to the haze.

~

It holds me
in its growing arms,
and strokes my dampened hair,
whispering comfort
as if to apologize
for its very existence.
It is mine,
born of a final breath
to dwell in my shadow,
and thrive inside a void.
I tend to it
as it tends to me,
embracing what remains,
just a fragment
of that final breath
to hold inside my lungs.
And I succumb
to its rise
from the isolated corner
as it walks beside me,
fully grown.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Dreamscape

We slip into the cradle of night's arms,
Beyond our weary, wakeful selves, we go.
Where hopes take flight untouched by worldly harms,
And whispered wants, like drifting petals, flow.

Beneath a veil of stars and moonlit beams,
We cross to foreign lands of our design,
A portal to a world beyond our dreams,
Where truths and aspirations intertwine.

And when we wake to walk through daylight's door,
The secrets of the stars, we're meant to keep.
Unfiltered are the thoughts our dreams explore;
For minds cannot be closed when they're asleep.

May we be armed with wisdom of the night,
And dare to seek a world beyond our sight.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Winter

Whispered clouds rise over the distant laughter,
Cutting through the bitter cold winds of winter.
Branches shedding icicles to the sidewalk,
   Breaking the stillness.

Snowy blankets covering autumn remnants,
Barren gardens dreaming of blooms in color.
Glassy rivers shining beneath the moonlight,
   Waiting to shatter.

Frozen mem’ries melting as days grow longer,
Fragile as the glass on the river’s surface.
How your heart remained through
the spring and summer,
   Colder than winter.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

January Wind

You shift the autumn breeze, again,
you creep into the wind.

To crawl beneath my skin, again,
as winter's chill seeps in.

Your absence fills the air, again,
and wraps my world with ice.

It taunts and toys with time, again—
It stretches sleepless nights.

My layers fail to shield, again,
against the coming breeze.

And I am left exposed, again,
to every gust it breathes.

I'm captured by the cold, again—
I drift with winter wind,

A blow that brings me back, and then
I watch you fade, again.

Details | Jessica Wheeler Poem

Castles by the Sea

A castle made of sand  
stands tall against the waves,  
safe behind  
the line we drew  
to catch the rising tide.

We watch the sea pour in  
to reach the mark we've made,
as memories  
and time absorb  
like water into sand.

And when the final grain  
has fallen on my time,  
and empty is  
the hourglass  
behind the fragile line,

the setting sun will hum  
a lullaby you've heard  
from moons ago,  
awaiting still  
a harmony not written.

And may this melody  
be known when I am gone,  
if just a whispered 
memory,  
a breath in morning wind.

Take with you our time,  
and take it down the line,  
where castles fall  
and rise again  
to greet the coming tides.

Each step that marks the past  
and those I've yet to take- 
the broken, bent,  
the stayed or strayed-  
all lines lead back to you.

Brave the shoreline, 
knowing where the tides 
have carried me.

I'll meet you where  
the circle ends and we  
begin again.