Home » Poems » Best » Tara Jennings » Best Tara Jennings Poems

Best Poems Written by Tara Jennings

Below are the all-time best Tara Jennings poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

Moon Bridge

The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.



Internal rhyme
Imagery
Assonance
Alliteraton
Repetition
Synesthesia

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

We Are All Strippers On a Stage

We are all strippers on a stage
choreographed of broken dreams.
Our materialistic schemes
drown values in whiskey bottles.


We are all strippers on a stage
who put down our pillow case veils,
dawned a garter belt, sold our souls
for the price of our panty hose.

We are all strippers on a stage
who can not keep with this life style: 
with nights too long and days too short,
where a candle burns on both ends 

a center burns out; we sell out.
We are all strippers on a stage:
vibrate and shimmer for dollars,
feed this addictive scenery.

(modified quatern)

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

Sacred Secrets

Strong and pure to stand the ages
emanating from inside this trunk
I feel an ethereal hue,
beneath my palms I run.

Emanating from inside this trunk
are sacred secrets trapped in sap and pine,
beneath my palms I run
and hear the whispers of wood nymphs.

Are sacred secrets trapped in sap and pine?
I feel an ethereal hue
and hear the whispers of wood nymphs,
strong and pure to stand the ages.

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers

a fallen pine log:
        red-cockaded woodpeckers
taps their lost fair well





****The Red-cockaded Woodpecker has less than 1% of its original population. They make their home in mature pine forests, preferably long leaf pine,  which have been drastically reduced due to disease and harvesting. While other woodpeckers bore out cavities in dead trees where the wood is rotten and soft, the Red-cockaded Woodpecker is the only one which excavates cavities exclusively in living pine trees. They play a key role in their ecosystem. A number of other birds and small mammals use the cavities excavated by Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, such as chickadees, bluebirds, titmice, and several other woodpecker species, reptiles, and insects. Florida, my home, is one of the remaining southern states they are still found in. Steps are being taken to protect and recreate their nesting grounds***********

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

First Haircuts

the barber's scissors:
                my breath lost as the last of 
his baby curls fell

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

My Ride

These obstacles are high
     the leaps and bounds exhausting
Yet your challenge is the bit I bite 
    to tear away your percieved control.

I am the force of will who knows no master.
    I am the beast to ravage all oppressors.

My muscles tremble my fervour grows
    And my freedom will over throw.
 
Let loose your reigns and see how high I soar.

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

Three Days Saved

It's been nine years, I have counted the tears-
  they have made trails of guilt
  worried into my heart 
  then filled with loneliness and bitter despair
but by your grace I have been shown...

For the first time, in these nine years, I have not wept
  nor held a vigil to honor our grief
though the loss still burns, this time it is transformed

Peace from your love still reaches through death
  and through your eternal love I am reborn
  
 It is Good Friday. 
When God took your spirit home
  and left me dying to know,
  how to love him for his sacrifice
  when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?

Through your love I was born, and in your arms I grew
 and it has been your love the kept me whole
 that taught me how to be reborn
    for even though your body has gone
    your words lost in the wind and breath no more
The essence of grace and strength you lived
- it grows still in your daughter soul

My being and existence came from your womb
  my heart and mind shaped by your enlightenment
I have lived a life you gave me and for once
   I live it in pride to honor your sacrifice
your words giving me the guidance I'd lost nine years ago.

Alas, I've come to know, that as you died
  and went home with our Lord, you saved me from my death
not in your dying, my grief and love can attest,
    but in your living strength and loving example
       you showed me how to live a life
             open to our Father's gift

We knew it would not wait, but the parting was too fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
   what of my soul will rise with his?"

And now sitting Easter morning, 
  holding my sons candy-filled basket,
I realized Three days passed.

  He took you home Friday morn, but left me love,
that eternal love that never dies
whose comfort is unending

I honor your love by giving it to my children
         and Easter morning I felt your hug, your kiss, and knew 
                                 you have never left me
.
Though God took you home Mom
I know you have never left me
for as our Savior died and rose
you too still live in my heart, 
showing me proof our Father's blessings

    because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am strong enough to give this pain up 
       to honor his sacrifice and transcend,
           to be humbled by the grace and mercy
          that could forgive such lost lambs as I

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

My Dream of Failure

The night feels surreal,
in flight in my dressing gown
Swooping through backyards,
I reach to save them from loss,
but find myself falling down.

Written for the contest 'Tanka me a Dream"

tara jennings

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

Shooting Range Meditation

I need to write, to center myself.
To find that guidance that fails to come
when the pressure has built,
- overwhelmed.

Breathe, feel the peace 
and steady hum flow
up from the center of my feet
my legs, my womb, and gut.
The knot in my chest unwinds
down my arms and through my hands,
pull, inhale, aim, exhale, hold, fire
-let go...

I'm pulled in so many direction 
there is nothing left of me
to find me, cowering under 
the responsibilities and pressure

Breathe, Stand strong
find one target and handle it
-move on to the next.

Details | Tara Jennings Poem

The Neighbor Boy

I was sixteen budding and fulfilling.
He was fifteen searching and awkward,
walking me home from a bus stop backwards,
carrying my bags, strutting a silly-grin valor.

What a sweet little braggart, trying to woo me.
Quiet and shy with his little trick, a smile
hesitantly grown, an innocent blossom of trust.
Twisted feet tripped, he stuttered, my heart gripped.

One week later still he walked me, holding my bag
sweetly and silently. I grew bold in his attention
our walks extended and moved for privacy.
Budding and grinning I tripped, fell, and he caught me.

I was seventeen and haughty and proud.
He was sixteen budding and promising...
Life fell apart as the world caved in around me,
exploding inwards I fell, and he caught me.

He has held me all these years never leaving.
A promise of trust and love unending
And still his quiet slow grin unbends
my heart and makes the world re-spin.