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Best Poems Written by Janae Gertridge

Below are the all-time best Janae Gertridge poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Bread Crumbs

The young couple surveys the area.
Large aged oak trees gift shade.
Thick luscious grass carpets the ground.
Pastel wild flowers dance on the breeze.
The pale blue sky is expansive.

She takes the time to spread each crease
Out of the checkered blanket.
Her hands are well manicured and soft.

He glances at her as she hums to herself, 
Unpacking the basket between them, 
Pure adoration in his eyes.  

They laugh and talk the afternoon away.
The bread just crusts.
The crumbles of cheese minuscule.
A few wrinkled, too soft grapes.

The blue sky gives way to
Pinks, golds and a warm violet.
Wine and cooler air
Have provided an excuse
For romance in a beautiful meadow.

She looks up at him, pensive, in his arms.
He knows her inside and outside, this love.
He shakes his head sadly.
"But it looks so hungry and sad".

He reminds her of the rules as he packs.
She stands, not helping him,
But studying the creature.
"It has to sit in a cage in paradise,"
She sighs, almost to herself.

"My Love," he grasps her arm,
Starting to sweat despite the cooler air.
"We don't bother it, and it doesn't bother us."
He pulls on her arm, 
The basket rushly packed.
His eyes trying to focus 
On the other side of the clearing. 

"I'm just going to give it a crust, b..."

As she put her soft clean hand 
Through the bars of my cage,
The crust of bread deposited in my hand,
Her body launches backwards
Blood and bone spraying 360 degrees.

I still hold her hand in mine.
I am already crying
When equal machinery
Launch bullets of 
Lethal capacity splitting the man 
Into several pieces.

I am left to eat my bread crumbs.
Alone in my cage.
No one to watch parade in front of me.
No one to watch be happy.

I swing the cage door open.
Step out. Stretch. 
Look around and scream.
When my throat hurts
I climb back in my cage and shut the door.

I built this.
I'm my own maker and demise.
I will choose my own ending.
Leave me now. 
I wish to starve slowly over 
Everyone else's bread crumbs.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Walking Out on the Devil

Walking Out on the Devil

Of course this is what I asked for.
Exactly what I wanted.
Some would say, 
Even what I deserve.

I knew it would be hard.
Maybe not this hard.
I had expectations of emotional loss.
But I didn't think I would lose everything.

Walking away from you was akin
To walking out on the Devil.
I walked out of Hell
With my soul intact.

I left everything behind.
The hot heat of fights,
That warmed the house
From room to room.

Pillows that were once 
Used to muffle cries or
Punches to my face
Lay unused now on the bed.

The pictures still hang on the walls.
They cover the holes
That angry fists hit
Through broken drywall.

Scars in a house,
That didn't heal.
Bruises on my body,
Nobody ever saw.

Today it is cold.
Bitter as the snow falls.
Unlike your hot temper,
And demon screaming.

I'm hungry and tired.
But telling myself 
That this is still better
Than life with you.

I look inside the window, 
Simply passing by.
You sit with her,
Your next victim.

I want to open the door.
Scream and cry at her,
To please run away.
But she is already lost.

Your hand is atop hers.
Your devil eyes are locked 
On your target.
She laughs, innocent for now.

It is enough that 
Your Hell let me go.
I made it out alive, 
That I walked out on the Devil.

I'm convinced that she
Is doomed to her own fate,
Caught under your spell.
So I continue walking into the night.

I knew it would be hard.
Feeling cold and alone.
Leaving everything familiar, 
And seeing the Devil with fresh prey.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Walk With Me

Walk With Me

Tonight the storm rages.
Is it worse outside 
Or inside my head.

The thunder threatens 
To shatter the window panes.
My insanity threatens
To take my life.

As the lightening
Slashes against the night,
My tears fall faster than
The rain plummets from the heavens.

I can see Him standing 
In the garden amidst the storm.
A black cloaked figure,
Wet and faceless in the dark.

His hood pulled up,
Shoulders hunched forward,
Against the ferocity of the wind.
A massive man, unafraid of 
Each boom, every strike.

He lifts one long arm.
Extends it out in my direction.
Come out into the chaos.
Join me in the garden.

Still crying, gasping for breath,
I open the door.
I'm not scared.  
I want this.

I crave the storm.
I have felt it forever in my soul.
Maybe it's my creation. 
My own intention.

The thunder is my pain.
Crashing and rumbling 
Always in turmoil and suffering 
Because of my disease, my past.

The lightening is my thoughts.
Flashing bright as I always
Overthrow right versus wrong
Good over evil inside my broken heart.

And, of course, the damn rain.
I never run out of tears to cry.
There is no such thing in my
Head as lack of self loathing.

But my garden,
It is beautiful. 
The one piece of sanctuary 
In this hell I have to escape to.

I will go to you.
I will put my small hand in yours.
I will let the rain wash my pain away.
I will raise my face and close my eyes,
Feel my garden shake with each clap of thunder.

Open your cloak, Death, 
Engulf me in its warmth, 
Let me be dry, safe.
Hold me in your arms.

Walk with me.
The storm ceases.
Though the sun will never shine,
There is finally silence in my garden.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Crash

You'd think falling was the easiest part.
The air rushing past you.
The world spinning so fast.
Zero focus.
Your eyes watering.
Can't catch your breath.
Your heart pounding so hard it hurts.
Hands clenched and cold.
Your entire body unsure and tense.
Alone in an alien atmosphere. 
Like you are somewhere you don't belong.
Plummeting a million miles an hour.
Without control.
Just a body in an endless universe.
Karma is really the only ruler here.
Your past depicts your future. 
Or is it fate?
Are you destined to walk away from this?
Or is all of that old wives tales?
Do you decide your own destiny?
Whatever.
Years of disappointment.
Endless struggles and tears.
Failures topped with self loathing. 
Tears and sobs and hiccups.
A weight of guilt of a thousand memories.
Miles away from saving.
This panic attack is going to make me
Crash.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

A Forest Meditation

A Forest Meditation 

Today I choose to meditate 
Away my anger and my grief.

The trees are so thick
I am lost in their green grace.

Black earth provides 
A soft bed for my weary head.

A whisper of nearby water
Calms frail nerves.

The air here is clean,
Untouched by humanity.

It is now that I close my eyes,
Connect my soul to this slice of heaven.

Ask with humbleness and without pride,
To release my personal demons.

Open my heart and mind
To the magic of forest around me.

My arms outstretched, my eyes are closed,
My five senses are my guides.

The Faeries are the first to descend.
Little wings music in my ears.

Their forest language soothing.
A lullaby pulling pain from my broken heart.

The Spirits of the forest arrive next.
I can feel the air temperature drop.

I shiver in their presence 
But I am not afraid.

They are not here to haunt,
But rather to remove what haunts me.

And for that gift
I offer a silent smile of gratitude.

The leaves of surrounding shrubs
Rustle as the Elementals arrive.

Earth, Water, Air, Fire. 
Powerful beings as old as time itself.

The ground beneath my body shifts.
I feel droplets of moisture on my bare skin.

My long hair, haloed around my head,
Seemingly lifts by a hot burning wind.

A chant, ancient by right, is recited.
Not in my ears but in my head.

Words that I don't understand. 
Phrases that beat in time with heartbeat.

I feel like I'm being transported.
Carried beyond this very dimension.

My spine arches.
My fists clench.

Not in a bad way though,
In a cleanse of sorts. 

All the evil is being drained.
All my sorrow is awashed.

And as deep and moving 
As the the experience is,

It stops just as sudden.
And I am back in the forest alone. 

I feel reborn.
Clean and refreshed.

Opening my eyes, stretching.
Sitting up, realizing day has become night.

Lighting a flashlight.
Saying grace aloud.

Giving gratitude to my surroundings.
I end my forest meditation.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Darkness

Darkness

The Hell I live in
Forever burns, is black, and is completely alone.
It is void of sound and emotions.

I have lived here for years.
By myself.
Delivered by you.

Your narcissistic behavior brought
Me here on a black chariot.
Evil, cruel behavior cut me down.
Piece by piece is lost.

My emotional control was the first to die.
Your words were so cruel.
So cutting, a knife through my heart.
And when my heart stopped beating 
you went for my self control,

What I looked like.  
The world said I was beautiful.
A goddess, a queen.
But you said I was ugly.  .

Then you beat you my physical body.
Broke my face.  Bruises.  
More words to break my self esteem.
I was awful and worthless at everything.
Had to correct even my sentences.
I can not even speak correctly.

Lastly I was not even worth leaving the house with.  An embarrassment in public.
Everything is an argument. 
Constantly fighting.

You took my soul.  
My everything is lost.
I am a shell.  
Skin and bones.

I cant think for myself.

Who am I but a ghost 
In this Hell.
Wandering. 
Lost.
Empty.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Winter Snow

I have peace tonight.
My world is complete.
The great panes of glass 
Are frosty with snow
As it silently falls outside.
The night provides a
Perfect crispy black backdrop.
Inside the fire crackles and
Sings it's song.
The orange and red glow
Lights the room
Softly enough to cast shadows 
That dance off the wooden walls.
The hot cocoa steams in mugs
On the table, 
Releasing a sweet aroma
That reminds me of childhood 
Giggles over marshmallows 
And chocolate chips.
The true beauty in the room though,
Is you.
Sexy in flannel pajama bottoms.
Broad shoulders stretch a jersey shirt.
Hemingway, of course, in your lap.
When you notice my admiring eyes
A smile forms on perfect lips.
A twinkle in those darling eyes.
For myself it's McCammon.
My toes wiggle under your thighs
To let you know I see that smile,
That knowing look in those eyes.
Alas, our evening is still young.
We haven't enjoyed our cocoa,
Finished reading yet.
And there is more 
Winter snow yet to fall.

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

Subway

Subway

It’s 3 a.m. on the subway.
I’m high and lonely.
A little girl in a womans body.
Oversized hoodie and ripped jeans.
Messy bun and tear stained cheeks.
An empty stomach under a shattered heart.

I can’t stand the house we shared anymore.
Holes from your angry fists
Unpatched in the walls.
Memories of fights in the kitchen.
I’m going crazy with shame,
That I never ended it earlier.

So I needed an escape tonight.
Unfamiliar territory with strange faces.
Enough numbness inside me,
To make me feel safe.

The old lady by the door,
Her grey head lowered.
Knitting needles clicking together
Making a rhythmic beat
That matches the clacking sound
Of the subway car.

Maybe because I’m high,
It’s soothing.
This music.
She never misses a beat,
Never looks at me.
Just click. Clack. Click.

At the opposite end of the car,
The drunken suit.
Bars close and now he has to go home.
Must have had a bad day.
Drank his sorrows away.

Tan overcoat and black suit underneath.
Crisp white shirt and a red tie.
Hint of a five o’clock shadow.
It’s the hollow eyes that stare
Blankly straight ahead that scare me.

Eyes that don’t care anymore.
A soul that is giving up.
Someone who is losing
Against his world.
Just like me.

The train slows to a stop.
A bottle rolls from under a seat,
Hits my foot,
Jarring me from my reverie.

The music from the knitting needles stops.
The old woman shoves them in her bag.
Tired eyes look at me.
Knees creak as she stands.

As she passes by me towards the door,
“I saw you watchin,” she barely whispers,
“I know a broken dream when I see one.”
And she disappears out the door.

Behind her the drunken suit,
Hollow and soulless eyes,
Stare through me and not at me,
“I’m not the danger y’know sweetheart,”
He coughs, like he is going to throw up
All the liquor he probably drank tonight,
“Your own past is what is going
To kill you.”

Alone on the subway home,
Words from strangers
Rattle my brain.
Broken dreams and a killer past.

I thought I would come here as an escape.
Strangers that knew nothing of me,
Saw through my veiled disguise.
Leaving me to feel
Even more displaced and disappointed
Than when I started my train ride.

It’s true what they say,
The further you get from home
The more lost you feel.
However, if you lost yourself
Before you left
How do you know what to come home to?

Details | Janae Gertridge Poem

The Survivor

Who is that woman in the mirror?
The big blank eyes.
The mouth that never smiles.
The hands, always shaking.
I don't know her.

What can I do?
I am afraid of everything and everybody.
I only want to be home.
But I don't want to be alone.
I don't feel safe.

Why am I always crying?
Anxiety attacks that take my breath away.
Flashbacks of violence, so lifelike.
My body still hurts from his fists.
I don't know why I can't heal.

When will I be me again?
He stole who I was.
He broke me into a million pieces.
Then he gave the pieces back.
I don't know where the last piece is.

Where will I end up?
If I don't have that last piece,
Am I still a survivor?
I'm a blank image.
Alone. Unsafe.
Crying, anxiety, flashbacks and hurting.
Unhealed.

Please tell me,
Is that really "surviving"?