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Best Poems Written by Jarrod Toothman

Below are the all-time best Jarrod Toothman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jarrod Toothman Poem

Valhalla's Call

He walks alone, a shadow cast  
By memories too fierce to last,  
A warrior once, now lost, betrayed—  
By time, by fate, by war's parade.  
His brothers, bold, now rest below,  
Their blood, their courage, still they glow,  
In Valhalla’s hall, where feast and song  
Echo the names of those who’re gone.  

He’s left behind, the living scar,  
The weight of grief a constant war.  
Guilt gnaws within, a ceaseless ache,  
For those he loved, for those who break  
In battle’s grip, their lives forfeit,  
But he—he lives, alone, unfit  
To join them where the mighty dine,  
To sit at Odin's table, fine.

No glorious death, no final cry,  
He wonders if he even tried—  
To die a soldier, fierce and true,  
Instead of breathing, pulling through,  
The weight of days, a burden great,  
A soul betrayed by twisted fate.  
The Valkyrie don’t call for him;  
He’s left to fade in silence grim.  

He hides his pain beneath the mask,  
A hollow face, an empty task.  
No family close, no friends to trust,  
He’s walled himself in quiet rust,  
Each day a blur of hollow fight,  
Against a world that knows no night.  
Around him laughter, life, and light,  
While he longs for one last glorious fight.  

The battlefield, his home, his kin,  
Where death was certain, pure of sin—  
He yearns for it, though it’s too late,  
To walk that path, to seal his fate.  
But still he waits, and still he pleads,  
For death to come and end his needs.  
To die a warrior, proud and tall,  
To join his brothers at Odin’s hall.  

So he moves through life, a quiet ghost,  
Drowning in what he loves the most—  
The battle cries, the blood, the pain,  
The longing for a final gain.  
And when his time has passed, he’ll pray,  
That Valkyrie will lead the way,  
To Valhalla’s feast, where none will fear,  
Where brothers wait, and joy is near.  

Until then, he carries on, concealed—  
A warrior’s heart, forever healed  
By hope that one day, in the end,  
The battle will come, and he’ll ascend,  
To dine with them, beneath the sky,  
Where guilt and shame no longer lie.  
For in Valhalla, free from pain,  
He’ll find his peace, and there remain.

Details | Jarrod Toothman Poem

Rebuilding

They met in the silence of shattered lives,  
two strangers with broken hearts,  
haunted by losses too heavy to name.  

He carried the weight of wars fought far away,  
the screams still echoing in his chest,  
the faces of fallen brothers,  
cloaked in nightmares that never let him sleep.  

She carried the weight of a child lost too soon,  
a son taken in the violence of a world  
that knew no mercy.  
The emptiness in her arms a reminder  
that love can be stolen,  
leaving nothing but hollow echoes.  

But when they looked at each other,  
there was no need for words—  
just the shared understanding  
of how grief carves deep and leaves scars.  

They didn’t need to be saved,  
only to be seen.  
In each other’s pain,  
they found a quiet strength,  
a place where the world could not touch them.  

Together, they rebuilt.  
Brick by brick, breath by breath,  
they learned to stand again,  
stronger in the brokenness  
than they had ever been before.  

Two souls scarred but unyielding,  
complete in the space  
where their losses met.

Details | Jarrod Toothman Poem

A Silent Room

The silence presses heavy, thick,  
Like walls that close with every tick.  
I walk through days, but none I own,  
A shadow lost, a heart unknown.  
My family’s gone, my friends are far,  
The distance stretches like a scar.  
I reach for hands that never grasp,  
I chase the echoes of the past.  

I sit alone, a guest in life,  
A presence, but not worth the strife.  
My spouse sees me, but not as friend,  
I’m just a face they must defend.  
A duty more than anything—  
A weight to carry, just to cling.  
In this house, I stand, unseen,  
A fixture fading in between.  

I never knew the father’s touch,  
The warmth of love that means so much.  
My children far, four days a month,  
A parent, but not quite enough.  
My adopted daughter, distant still,  
I wonder if she’d feel the thrill  
Of a life without my face,  
If I could vanish without trace.  

My stepson looks, but never sees,  
I’m just a blur, a passing breeze,  
Except when I’m beside his mother,  
Then I’m there—but still, no other.  
The pain sits heavy, deep inside,  
An ache I can’t escape or hide.  
Each breath a burden, each step a lie,  
I’m not forgotten, but not alive.  

I fear that death might set me free,  
To end the ache, the endless sea  
Of loneliness that chokes my chest,  
That makes me wonder if I’m blessed.  
But even then, I’ll fade alone,  
A ghost with no one to atone,  
No voice to mourn, no eyes to see,  
A life that was and ceases to be.  

No one to sit and shed a tear,  
No one to whisper, “I was here.”  
I’ll slip away and not a soul  
Will mark the absence, not a toll.  
Just quiet earth, a final rest,  
In a world where I was never blessed.  
But in this life, I wait in vain,  
For someone who can ease the pain.  

I fear that I was born to be  
A solitary soul, unseen, unfree.

Details | Jarrod Toothman Poem

Necessities Burden

I give, I give, yet it’s never enough,
For all that I am, I’m told, is too tough.
Once promises made, now feel like a lie,
I gave you my heart, yet you pass it by.
At first, it was clear, we were hand in hand,
But time has turned shifts I can't understand.
Things you once wanted, now you don’t care,
No words were exchanged, no moments to share.
I built you a world of my deepest intent,
But you’ve taken the bricks, and now I relent.
I love you fiercely, with everything I’ve got,
But it seems I’ve become more of a tethered knot.
What I desire, what I dream, what I need,
Is met with a silence that makes my heart bleed.
You ask for my patience, my kindness, my grace,
But where is my own place in this sacred space?
I am a servant, a shadow, a ghost in your light,
Who gives with a smile, but feels lost in the fight.
My hopes and my wishes, they slip through my hands,
While you are the anchor, and I am the sand.
I am the man, kept close by your side,
Not for love’s sake, but because you decide.
A servant of duty, not man, not a king,
My worth is a ledger, not love’s offering.
I cannot show anger, I cannot show pain,
For fear that my sorrow will be seen as vain.
You’ve asked for so much, but I’ve lost all my way,
How long can I give when my soul has to stay?
I’m trapped in this love, yet alone in my heart,
I fear if I leave, I’ll be torn apart.
But if I stay silent, I cease to exist,
A necessity’s burden—unheard, dismissed.
So here I remain, with nothing but will,
To love with no joy, yet my heart can’t be still.
For I am not loved, but a duty well-known,
Trapped in this love, but it’s not my own.