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Best Poems Written by Jessica Murphy

Below are the all-time best Jessica Murphy poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

My Three Boys

It gets kind of crazy living with 3 young boys, there’s always a mess and there’s constant noise.
Their mouths constantly running, their little legs too; they rough-house like tiny wrestlers, off the couch they just flew.
They never get old, those silly fart jokes; and the noise and clanking of those bicycle spokes.
They change costumes every minute from football to Batman; next it’s baseball then it’s on to Spider-Man.
You better watch where you step when you come through our door, there’s legos and Nerf bullets covering the floor.
They’re covered in mud, they’re covered in dirt; there’s ketchup and Cheetos all over their shirts.
They argue, they fight, they cry and pout; then they giggle and laugh after they hug it out.
Living with boys you never know what’s next, you better watch what you say, they’ll change the context.
Their imagination totally rocks; they can make anything out of a box.
Just give them some scissors and a glue stick; that box transforms into a Batmobile real quick.
They’re wearing their breakfast, there’s mud in their hair; it’s an act of congress to get them to share.
Their diet is subpar, all they want to eat is junk; and with three sweaty boys, you can imagine the funk.
We’ve turned into detectives, constantly looking for lost toys; we’re also mechanics trying to fix whatever they’ve destroyed.
Although these boys can cause us some undue stress; I wouldn’t change a thing to prevent their mess.
The house can be clean when they’re grown and they’ve moved out; so for now I’ll sit back and see what life’s all about.
I’ll enjoy all the noise and the mess on the floor; I’ll pray my feet are protected from the legos galore.
I’ll wash their clothes and clean them up; and be thankful I can fill all our cups.
Thank you God for my three sons, we’re thankful and blessed, and we love them tons.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

A Temporary Vessel

That's not your father lying there.
That's simply a temporary vessel from the Lord, a spare.

His soul is in Heaven with his lovely wife.
He's no longer in pain in this worldly life.

He's risen to Heaven to be with our Father.
His blindness and weakness no longer a bother.

He's made new again; he can see, he can run.
I promise in Heaven, he's having way more fun.

He was a blessing to many here on this earth, 
and he loved his family for all he was worth.

We will laugh, we will cry remembering his many years.
We will mourn and shed all of the emotional tears.

We thank you God for his time here with us.
But, we know you now need him more than us.

We will see you again, only next time will be greater.
We'll not only see him, but also our Creator.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

A Mother's Title

Where do you work, what is your career?
Well, I'm glad you asked, I have many titles it would appear.

I'm proud of these titles, non of which require a degree.
One of my favorite titles is mom of three.

I'm a homemaker, a cleaning lady, a chef, and a maid;
a run the monsters away when they are afraid.

I'm a librarian and teacher of every subject;
a cheer leader and manager of every school project.

A counselor, a therapist, both physical and mental;
a manager of any and all incidentals.

One may also call me a chauffeur.
Some days all this driving seems much like a blur.

I'm an event planner and activities director,
and I'm putting my years in for debt collector.

A private investigator, a hostage negotiator,
a disciplinary, and a mediator.

A soul protector, security, a body guard;
and a safe place to go when life gets too hard.

I'm a personal shopper, a stylist and a hairdresser;
a go-to for advice when they want to impress her.

I'm a wife to the most wonderful husband and father;
and a listening ear when something's a bother.

Last but not least, I am a spiritual guidance;
a child of God who will always follow in His abidance.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

All is Well

The water ripples, the wind howls as the dock sways with the breeze.
The birds chirping, the turtles tanning, the leaves tremble on the trees.
Peace be still, peace be quiet as she prayerfully rests.
The sun peeking out from the clouds, she thanks God, she is blessed.
She counts her blessings and meditates as the spring air passes by.
She’s thankful for the things in life, those that money can not buy.
The clashing of water on the rocks brings peace to her soul.
She’s grateful for God’s handiwork; He’s the missing piece that makes her whole.
The deep blue water and the bright green tree tops bring a refreshing sight and smell.
A reminder to her heart and soul, yes, all is well.
As she dips her toes into the cold water, she’s brought out of her tranquil daze;
and here come all her little blessings, stirring up a craze.
Her prayer time is over, it’s time to have a little fun.
Here come the children with water balloons, it’s time for mom to run.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

As He Disappears into the Fog

As he disappears into the fog, forgiveness fills my soul.
I feel the love come back to me, my heart growing hundredfold.

As he disappears into the fog, I feel anxiety leave.
I feel an astounding sense of peace overflowing in me.

As he disappears into the fog, the bitterness is suddenly gone.
The joy and laughter I've now found makes the bitterness feel so wrong.

As he disappears into the fog, the goodness is overwhelming.
The kindness in my heart and soul has become so compelling.

As he disappears into the fog, by now he's traveled deep.
I feel the patience swell within as I lay it all at His feet.

As he disappears into the fog, the fog so thick and dense,
this self control I am now feeling is starting to make sense.

As he disappears into the fog, I pray he stays in there.
For him to come back to me is more than my soul can bear.

As he disappears into the fog, into the dark abyss,
I find comfort in knowing these gifts from Jesus will not go amiss.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

Death of a Man

The death of a man, it comes from inside.
It's a slow killer, its name other than pride.

Pride has different forms, manifests in different ways;
but it's always a killer, a high price he pays.

Pride will ruin relationships with children, family, a friend;
it will cause complete devastation in the end.

The signs can be sneaky, hard to pin down.
We may not even recognize the pride lock-down.

Do you take offense easily, are you harsh in spirit?
Do you put on pretenses, only because you think others want to hear it?

Pride, like the devil, will steal, kill, and destroy.
Pride is very boastful, it is never coy.

Pride consumes your heart, it festers inside.
It boils out of your mouth, pride you cannot hide.

Pride is a vice of the utmost evil;
causing intermittent destruction, causing emotional upheaval.

Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.
Are you willing to let your pride risk it all?

Pride is a very hard pill to swallow.
In the end it will leave your soul feeling hollow.

That longing space, that space you can't seem to fill;
there's only one way to fill it, you must swallow your pride pill.

That desolate, empty void in your heart can be filled only one way,
and Jesus is the missing part.

Humble yourself before the Lord, and He will lift you up.
Give your control to God, give your heart a tune-up.

Don't let your pride cause your soul's painful death.
Jesus already bore it all with His last breath.

It's by grace we are saved through faith, not your own doing.
Grace is a gift from God, that which I hope you are pursuing.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

The Patient at 9

His hands are trembling, his gait a shuffle, sometimes his voice is no more than a muffle.
His balance is off, he’s had many falls, sometimes to begin walking, there’s several stalls.
Some days are good, others are fair; some days it seems like his mind is hardly there.
He’s so optimistic, despite his condition; to help him in any way is my main mission.
I teach him some nutrition to help with his brain; we work on balance exercises, we shoot for any gain.
He has to come early, before sundowning time; I look for his smile, every morning at nine.
He carries a stick to help with his gait; he walks with a shuffle and a wobble, hardly straight.
He has determination in his eyes; his strength and positivity never disguised.
He puts forth an effort, always one hundred percent, every move he makes is made with intent.
His wisdom so valued; his persistence inspiring; my heart aches for him as I watch him tiring.
His eyes start to soften, his tremors picking up; his body fatiguing, we know he’s had enough.
He rests for a while, we sit there and talk; after he rests up, we go for our walk.
As I walk him out, I pray for his health, I pray he finds peace with this hand he was dealt.
I find peace in knowing he has lead a happy life; I find peace in knowing he’s found Jesus Christ.
I will continue praying, and until next time, I’m looking forward to next Tuesday morning at nine.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

A Much Prayed through Decision

As we continue this new journey, a much prayed through decision;
it really hurts my heart that it can create so much division.

The questions and the doubts continue to roll in.
To explain and defend our decision, I don’t even know where to begin.

I’ll start with first things first, and that is obedience to God.
Raising and educating my children at home shouldn’t sound so odd.

The questions are all the same, ones of matters so trivial and so small.
These questions, I want to tell you, are not significant in the long term at all.

Won’t my children be very unsocialized and weird?
A very common question and also one that I once feared.

Is the education good enough, will they learn what they learn at school;
no they won’t, and that’s the point, my child will be no fool.

What will you do about sports, where will they go?
Not that sports are a priority, but I’m sure you’ve heard of Tim Tebow.

This journey won’t be easy, but God has set my priorities straight;
to not obey his will is not up for debate.

I’m confident that my children will have everything they need;
they’ll be well equipped, in life they will succeed.

And although their academics will not be a question;
my goal for my children is not Harvard, our ultimate goal is Heaven.

We’re so thankful for the friends and community who have supported us thus far;
I do not have to mention names because you know who you are .

This decision was not made lightly, and not one to belittle,
and I’m so thankful that our God remains a God of the middle.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

What Her Eyes are Saying

She has this pretty smile, she can light up a room, but when you look into her eyes, the look is more of gloom.
 
There’s so much wisdom and happiness on her face, but to look into her eyes that smile is so displaced.

Is it anger, is it hurt, is it doubt, or is it fear; oh don’t let her fool you, she won’t shed a tear.

I try to read her, but she sees my concern, what her eyes are saying, I cannot discern.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but she’s practiced that smile, she’s playing her role.

She has all the laugh lines, she was happy one time; but right now that smile is not meeting those lines.

We sit and we talk, she’s full of wisdom and love; it’s the past that she’s very reminiscent of.

When she brings up the past, I see a small glimmer; her eyes light up, almost a shimmer.

But the glimmer fades quickly when she comes back to present; her eyes a shade darker now, she’s less content.

I want the full story, but I don’t want to pry; I want to know the story behind those sad eyes.

As she hobbles out the door, I have this small fear; but she draws me in closely, pulls me near.

Will I see her again, is she happy where she’s going; we both feel the same, it’s hard not knowing.

We hug for a while, until next time; she’ll be on my heart, she’ll be on my mind.

Details | Jessica Murphy Poem

The Thunder Rolls

The thunder rolls as the sky flashes bright.
The clouds roll in as the lightning strikes.

The children all tucked in snug in their bed,
as mom walks away, "I'm scared", they all said.

You hear that sound, she says, the thunder rolling,
Do not be afraid, for it's only God and his angels bowling.

But the lightning, they cry, it's just so bright.
Oh that lightning, she says, means God has bowled a strike!

It's a fun game to watch and listen to, 
you see God and his angels like to have fun too.

Let's lay here for a while, just listen to the rumble.
I bet when God plays, he is very humble.

Let's count all the strikes when they light up the sky.
Tell me, little ones, who can count that high?

One big rumble, one loud strike,
as rain rolls in and fills the night.

As we lay there counting one strike, two,
the worry passes from each of you.

Slowly they drift off, peacefully rest.
If in your dreams you bowl with God, remember my loves, just give it your best.