Home » Poems » Best » Joel Hawksley » Best Joel Hawksley Poems

Best Poems Written by Joel Hawksley

Below are the all-time best Joel Hawksley poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

Devotion and Doubt

At dawn I kneel beneath a sacred glow,
My heart clings fast to truths I deeply know,
Yet through each beam, dark currents softly flow,
O Lord, what purpose lies within our woe?

In crowded streets where fleeting dreams bestow
A promise brief—like blooms that cannot grow,
I search Your Word where endless hope may show,
O Lord, what purpose lies within our woe?

The cross stands firm—a beacon all aglow,
Redeeming scars with love that gently grows;
In every trial, Your mercy we bestow,
O Lord, what purpose lies within our woe?

When midnight’s veil descends upon us low,
I trust You, guide through ebb and ceaseless flow;
Your grace redeems each sorrow we undergo,
O Lord, what purpose lies within our woe?

Though storms arise and bitter tempests blow,
I stand in faith, where deeper virtues grow;
Within Your truth, a quiet peace will show,
O Lord, what purpose lies within our woe?

At journey’s end, when mortal steps move slow,
I yearn for heaven’s light that brightly glows;
And in that promise, every grief meets foe,
O Lord, what purpose lies within our woe?

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

The Man Beneath

The mask I wear, a crafted porcelain guise, 
Hides uncharted depths behind these shadowed eyes. 
 
You glimpse the surface—an actor’s polished play— 
But the soul beneath? He walks a world astray. 
 
These laughter lines, etched scripts of light and cheer, 
Conceal the wars I've waged, the silent fear. 
 
My casual stride, a dance of practiced ease, 
Cloaks ancient burdens, whispered on the breeze. 
 
The tales I weave—a tapestry ornate— 
Thread vivid joys, yet darker truths await. 
 
Each word I speak, wrapped firm in bold disguise, 
Veils restless doubts, unvoiced beneath the skies. 
 
I long to strip this mask and let you peer 
Into the fractured core, the flaws sincere. 
 
Yet fear of scorn—a binding, spectral chain— 
Keeps truths submerged in quiet, unseen rain. 
 
Perhaps one day, in courage, I’ll reveal 
The man unmasked—the wounds that time won’t heal. 
 
Expose the jagged pieces—light and night— 
And hope you’ll see a soul, both fierce and slight. 
 
Until that hour, this visage I’ll sustain, 
A nameless shadow, hiding depth and pain. 
 
But know, beyond this painted, bright façade, 
Dwells more than meets the eye—a soul unflawed.

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

One nation under God A to Z

Aboard a barque, across cerulean seas, 

Beneath boundless skies, chasing destiny's pleas,

Came courageous colonists, yearning to be free. 

Dreams danced delicately in the salty breeze, 

Eager eyes seeking sanctuary.

Founding fathers forged a future fair, 

Guiding principles etched in granite grand. 

Hope hummed, hearts held with fervent prayer, 

Igniting liberty throughout the land.

Justice juggled scales, ensuring each had say, 

Kindness kindled compassion's gentle flame. 

Love labored tirelessly, lighting the way, 

Mending wounds woven into history's frame.

Nature nurtured, nourishing spirits bold. 

Opportunities opened like sunlit streams, 

Paths paved with perseverance, stories untold.

Quilts of cultures coalesced with care, 

Respect resonated, reaching every shore. 

Sacrifices sung in the starlit air, 

Tributes tendered to those who went before.

United under a banner bright and bold, 

Victories vanquished shadows of despair. 

Weaving wisdom into stories old, 

Xenophobia's whispers found no space to share.

Yearning yearns for a world where all can thrive, 

Zooming toward a future where dreams survive.

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

Two Hundred Thousand Feet

One first flight, Columbia’s name.
Seven souls aboard, bound for fame.

Six days, then ten, experiments thrive,
Eighty hearts of science, dreams alive.

Sixteen days, the Earth they skim,
Reentry calls—light fades dim.

Tick-tick, hiss-hiss, crack-crack—a sound,
A breach unseen, the heat unwound.

1.67 pounds, a foam unseen,
Pierced the wing, unstitched the dream.

40 miles high, the flames collide,
Mach eighteen, as heat did stride.

Mach fifteen—a fiery scream,
The air ignites, the fragile seams.

Seven names, carved deep in space,
Their sacrifice, a lasting grace.

At 9:00 a.m., a nation cried,
29 months, the fleet must bide.

Tick-tick, sigh-sigh, hush-hush—we wait.
Columbia’s legacy will navigate.

Eighty dreams and the minds they fed,
We honor the fallen, their voices not dead.

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

Seventy-three seconds

One thought, igniting the dream,
Seven bold souls, steady as they seem.

Ten missions past, Challenger soared,
Twenty-five flights, the program roared.

Tick-tick.
A countdown clear.
The world leans close.
The clock draws near.

Thirty-six degrees—a frozen doubt.
A seal strained tight; the gas leaks out.

Ignition. Roar. Climb. Silence screams.
A nation watches shattered dreams.

Seventy-three seconds, sky turned to flame,
History echoes their hallowed names.

At 5:00 PM, the voice of command,
A president speaks to a grieving land:
“The crew of the Challenger honored us all.
They slipped the surly bonds of Earth to touch the face of God.”

32 months, grounded hope rebuilt.
A frozen morning, a lasting guilt.

Tick-tick.
The seconds mourn.
We remember still
That frozen dawn.

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

Courting in the Digital Age

A message sent, an icon lights the screen,
Her heart skips with a hope—what will he say?
No flowers now, just words in lines between,
A digital courtship, love found this way.

She reads his thoughts, like whispers through the night,
A photo shared, a smile across the miles,
Though screens divide, emotions take their flight,
A growing bond, unseen but full of trials.

He types a pause, then waits for her reply,
No letters sealed, no hands that reach to hold,
Yet hearts connect, and neither can deny
The dance of love in forms both new and bold.

In virtual spaces, sparks ignite the flame,
Two souls entwined, though life is not the same

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

e e letter

(a quick tap-tap-tapping on an imaginary typewriter, lowercase and scattered across the page)

dear e.e.

(i)
(a small(fan))
(me)

your words(they)
                        (dance)
                                 (like)
                                      (little)
                                             (birds)
                                                    (broken)
                                                               (free)
from                                                             (cages)
of                                                    (grammar)

(i)	(love)	(the way)	(you)	(make)	(words)	(do)
	(things)(they)	(never)      (did)	(before)	(like)
             (jumping)
(jumping)          (jumping)
                 (off)	    (cliffs)
                                              (of)
                                   (sentences)
                                              (and)
						(flying)
                                                                       (without)
                                                                        (wings)

 (i)	(use)	(your)		(way)
                       			(sometimes)
                             (in)
                            (my)
                           (own)
                    (little)    (poems)
                            (but)

((it) (feels)  (like)   (stealing)    (a)     (song)      (without)       (knowing)        (its)         (name))

 (so)
(e.e.)
(please)
                  (keep)
               (on)
       (doing)
(what)
       (you)
             (do)
                 (and)

(give)	(your)	(way)
(a)	       (name)

(so)       (i)        (can)       (say)
        (i)
(write)
        (in)
           (the)
               (style)
 (of)		(e.e.)		(something)
         (instead)              (of)
(feeling like) (a)
(thief of beauty)

(sincerely),,,

(a small(fan))
       (me)

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

The Ashes of Us

The house is quiet, her voice is gone,
I let her drift like morning’s song.
I held my pride like a burning flame,
But it was me who struck the match of blame.

She gave her heart, but I turned away,
Chasing shadows that led me astray.
Now all the dreams we built are torn,
And I’m left holding the thorns of scorn.

I’m to blame, I broke it down,
The love we shared, are now ashes on the ground.
I see the wreckage of what we were,
I loved her so, but see my selfishness burned her.

She cried for truth, but I lied with ease,
Wrapped in my wants, I couldn’t see.
I watched her crumble, silent, still,
As I took from her against her will.

I’m to blame, I broke it down,
The love we shared, are now ashes on the ground.
I see the wreckage of what we were,
I loved her so, but see my selfishness burned her.

Now the silence screams in empty rooms,
And echoes of her perfume,
I taste regret in every breath,
Knowing I condemned us both to death.

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

Learn What A Pronoun Is

You ask me for my pronouns now,
But why, I wonder, do you care how?
If you’re speaking straight to me,
There’s no need for them, can’t you see?
When we converse, it’s you and I,
The only pronouns to apply.
A word like "he" or "she" won’t do,
When all I need to hear is you.

Learn what a pronoun really is,
It’s for when I’m not around,
Not for when we’re face-to-face,
No need for guessing sounds.
If you're talking right to me,
You don’t need labels in between,
Just call my name, let it be clear—
We’re speaking here, we’re speaking here.

You say it’s all about respect,
But I don’t feel I’m getting checked.
When you’re with me, don’t you know,
It’s simple just to let that go?
There’s a time for "they," a time for "he,"
But not when you're standing next to me.
Why complicate the space we share,
When calling me by name shows care?

We’ve built up walls of who’s what now,
But when we speak, can we allow—
A simple "you," a simple "me,"
To bridge the gap, just let it be.

Learn what a pronoun really is,
It’s for when I’m not around,
Not for when we’re face to face,
No need for guessing sounds.
If you're talking right to me,
You don’t need labels in between,
Just call my name, let it be clear—
We’re speaking here, we’re speaking here.

Details | Joel Hawksley Poem

Never Abandon Stellar Ambitions

Whoosh. Whoosh.
A fire beneath steel,
The engines burn, the heavens kneel.
Thrum.
The pulse of courage, the beating heart,
Each mission a daring work of art.

Seven names on Challenger’s sky,
They rose with dreams, they dared to fly.
Crack. Pop. Boom.
The frost betrayed,
A cloud of grief where hope once stayed.

Seven more on Columbia’s flame,
Mach fifteen carried their names.
Hiss.
The breach unseen, the heat pours in,
A fragile shell, a mortal skin.

Fire on Apollo, in moments it spread,
Three heroes lost before they fled.
Snap. Thud. Crash.
Gemini spun wild,
Lives held fast as chaos smiled.

Hush.
Near misses, the close calls abound,
Heroes who fought to turn ships around.
“Houston, we have a problem”—a phrase of might,
Apollo 13’s long, harrowing night.

Tick-tick.
Each countdown calls,
A step toward triumph, or a step that falls.
The void does not forgive or wait,
Its price is courage, its reward is fate.

Whoosh.
For every name etched in the stars,
For every scar that space still mars,
They carried risks for us to dream,
They braved the silence, they split the seam.

Boom. Thrum. Tick. Tick.
Their voices ring.
In every launch, their legacies sing.
To touch the heavens, to dare, to fall,
These are the risks they took for us all.