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Best Poems Written by Jonathan Phelps

Below are the all-time best Jonathan Phelps poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Only Human

As it becomes dawn, the sun brings rays of gold,  
We wander through moments, both timid and bold.  
Mistakes, like leaves, fall softly from trees,  
A whisper of lessons carried on the breeze.  

No shame in stumbles, no guilt in the fall,  
Each misstep a heartbeat, a lesson for all.  
With every miscalculation, a story unfolds,  
The beauty of growth, more precious than gold.  

Perfection, a mirage, a fleeting sweet lie,  
While fulfillment awaits in the truths we untie.  
We wander through shadows, embrace the unknown,  
In the messiness of life, our spirits have grown.  

Let us dance freely, with joy as our guide,  
In the arms of our failures, just keep your pride.  
For the essence of living lies not in the score,  
But in heartfelt connections that open each door.  

To live is to stumble, to rise and to learn,  
In the flicker of life, let the passion still burn.  
With each twist and turn, we may falter and sway,  
But it's the journey that matters— this is the way.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Her Scars Tell a Story

Admist the twilight, she dares to creep,  
Her scars tell silent stories, buried deep,  
Each line, a testament, a thread of her past,  
Woven with resilience, they hold her steadfast.

They’re not marks of weakness, but pathways of grace,  
A roadmap of heartaches, each curve has its place,  
In the magnificence of her, I see a flame,  
A spirit unyielding, too wild to tame.

I hold her close, where vulnerability breathes,  
On those jagged edges, true beauty weaves,  
For to love her is to honor each wound,  
To cradle her heart, in the darkness consumed.

Let the world whisper of the beauty defined,  
By smooth, unmarked skin, our affection’s confined;  
I’ll write her a love song, a hymn for her fight,  
For her scars are my compass, guiding me sight.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Alone in the Crowd

No longer can I say that my heart thrives,
But my love for life still quietly survives,
A flame that burns with fervent might,
Longing for a hand to hold in the night.

I search the eyes of passing strangers,
Hoping to find the spark to warm my embers,
A connection that could set my soul free,
But find only indifference, a turbulent sea.

My love, like autumn leaves, falls to the ground,
Forgotten, unfulfilled, and lost with no sound,
For in a world full of noise, I find silence and tears,
A lonely cry of despair, all the love lost over years.

In this ocean of faces, I am but a wave,
Crashing softly, unseen, unheard, and enslaved,
I yearn to share my love with another soul's gaze,
To feel the warmth of touch, like gentle summer days.

Alas, my love for the world is still vast and wide,
Yet finds no harbor, no safe place to reside,
I still hold it close, though it's my heaviest cargo,
A burden carried alone, where love's supposed to go.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Collateral Damage

I come with cracks you can't see at first—
Hairline fractures from love turned curse.
Each “I love you” I gave was a losing bet,
Now I cash out in shame and cigarette.

I’m broke—not just wallet, but soul and pride,
A man half-standing with nowhere to hide.
I lean too hard on the one still near,
Drowning in love, suffocating with fear.

You're the calm, the grace, the outstretched hand,
And I—I’m a landslide you can’t withstand.
I cling when I should hold space and grow,
Turn warmth to weight, too scared to let go.

I call it love, but it's need disguised—
A hunger formed from years of lies.
The past carved holes I never filled,
Now I feed them smoke, and whiskey spilled.

I see you strain, I hear your sigh—
You carry my storm while I just cry.
I should be your peace, your man, your shield,
But I’m the wound you’re forced to heal.

I'm sorry for the guilt I dress as charm,
For kissing your lips while sounding alarms.
For the tantrums masked as moments of pain,
Then pretending I’m fine and doing it again.

It's hard to admit—I’m the problem, the mess,
The echo of love that’s lost its finesse.
But I’m tired of hiding behind these vices,
Of trading realness for cheap sacrifices.

I want to be more than this damaged frame,
To stop using you to smother my shame.
But first I must face the man I’ve become,
And own the silence I've tried to outrun.

So if you ever leave, please know it’s fair—
You gave your all, I gave my despair.
But if you're still here, and willing to see,
I’m not asking for saving… just patience with me.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Native Language

In the silent spaces between words,
Where meaning often gets blurred,
I have wandered, weary and worn,
Translating my heart, feeling torn.

Searching for one who understands
The dialect of my unspoken lands,
Who reads the whispers between my lines
And knows the rhythm of my designs.

Not just hearing, but truly listening
To the language my soul is insisting,
Where every pause and trembling breath
Speaks volumes deeper than words can breadth.

May we meet—two spirits aligned
Where no translation is required, refined
In the pure communion of being seen
Completely, without a filter between.

Let love be honest and sincere
Of everything unspoken, pure and clear
A connection so deep and so true
That my soul speaks directly to you.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Elysium in the Light

As i bask in her glory, her sunlight reigns,
Her smile i cherish,  her love still remains.
A spark ignites every room with your grace,  
A symphony played in the softest embrace.  

Your brilliance, a beacon, illuminating bright,  
Whispers of wisdom taking flight in the night,  
Behind those deep eyes, a universe glows,  
With stories and secrets that nobody knows.  

You dance in the chaos, so free and so bold,  
A life so vibrant, defiantly breaking the mold,  
In the vastness of your love when you're near,
Is a trembling heart, crippled by hidden fear.  

You show you love me, a soft summer breeze,  
Yet try to escape when you feel some unease.
The call of the night is a song without strings,
A fleeting connection, no freedom can bring.  

Oh, how I admire your beauty as it takes flight,  
But still, I stand anchored, a star in your night.
For every smile, every glance held so dear,  
Is a treasure, a memory, an unspoken cheer.  

Seeing the shadows that dance in your heart,  
The conflict, the yearning, a world torn apart.  
My dear enchantress, in your dazzling spree,  
Even love can be wild, yet still be set free.  

Reach for the stars, let wind be your guide,  
I’ll cherish your essence, with nothing to hide.
Perhaps someday, in the sweet glow of dawn,
You realize I am real and our love can move on.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Memento on the Moon

In the infinite vacuum, where the moon was born,  
I place a silver canvas, that is softly adorned,  
From dreams of starlight, and whispers of dust,  
An ancient clock, showing its age with rust,  
Its hands like shadows, still yet they turn,  
Marking the time, that is no longer my concern.

There stands a solitary tree, sculpted in stone,  
Rooted in absence, yet never felt alone,  
Its leaves are the mirrors, reflecting our past,  
Sharing radiant stories, that are forever to last,  
As astronauts linger beneath the serene scene,  
With hopes that their spirit will still be seen.

This memento left here, in its lunar embrace,  
A testament forged in the void of space.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

In the Shadow's of a Narcissist

In gilded chains, he wandered blind,
Love's cruel mirror, the heart entwined.
Seven years, a dance of pain,
Her laughter echoed, a siren’s bane.

Red flags waved a storm in disguise,
Yet in the tempest, he sought her skies.
A heart so wide, he sheltered her lies,
While she wandered, seeking fleeting highs.

Death's grip held him, feeble and frail,
Yet she slipped from their home, a nightingale's trail,
To meet a stranger beneath the bar's glow,
Her heart cold as winter, her deceit to sow.

A masquerade of sanity, “It's all in your mind,”
Her venomous whispers left scars intertwined.
She twisted the truth, a masterful thief,
And in the whirlwind of turmoil, he sought relief.

In a wedding of silence, vows rusted and torn,
With each whispered promise, new wounds were born.
Her smile a dagger, her love a cruel jest,
While shadows encroached on his hopeful quest.

Four years of silence, a symphony grim,
As she tore at the seams of his faith, ever dim.
Until, with blatant disdain, she gambled his heart,
Cheating in daylight, tearing his world apart.

In the wreckage of love, toxic fumes burned,
He gathered his courage each lesson learned.
Yet whispers of innocence she fervently spread,
While he bore the burden of the love that she fed.

Half a home vanished, and treasures of old,
His father's ring, a love story sold.
In the silence of absence, his spirit reclaims,
A flicker of hope in the ashes of shame.

Through heartbreak, he wandered, the path redefined,
Encounters anew, where warmth intertwines.
She graced him with kindness, a soft, tender light
Yet shadows emerged, her truth took to flight.

In solitude, she spiraled, a life overthrown,
All friendships dissolved, and in silence, alone,
She gazed into mirrors of choices now made
Regret draped her shoulders, her gladness betrayed.

While he learned to soar, with wings wide and free,
The man once ensnared now dances with glee.
Though years built on torment left scars that won’t fade,
In the tapestry of healing, new colors were laid.

So raise a glass to the wounds we survive,
To love that teaches us how to revive.
For even in shadows, the soul finds its way,
To bloom in the sunlight, reborn from dismay.

Details | Jonathan Phelps Poem

Werebeast

A knight in shining armor, the fool in chains,
Both the same person, covered in bloodstains.
The hero has no saviour, No one sees he's distress,
Abused and broken, soul stole from his chest

The lucky few who are able make himself into beast, 
No longer feels the pain of being a man at least.
For the beast has no ego to cause him to yearn,
Accolades and praise are no longer the concern.

The man has to much pride, always needing to win,
While the beast's only concern is living life to the end.
Power cannot be taught,  weakness is what you resist,
To stay alive your purpose, and fear can't exist.

Homosapiens lived in fear, because they realized mortality,
The weak left to die, while the  strong deal with the morality.
Veracity. a superfluous emotion, unknown by the meek,
Today's society has grown timid, unmotivated and weak.
 
Remember my child, don't follow the masses into the storm,
No matter the weather, you are not part of the norm.
The werebeast inside you, it guides you to fight,
When you shift to your true form in the still of the night.

Not feeling the pain, although you're bloody from war,
For I made you the beast, like my father before.
Do not fear the world, for the world will fear you,
But remember to be honest,  to thine own self be true.