Home » Poems » Best » Jeffrey George » Best Jeffrey George Poems

Best Poems Written by Jeffrey George

Below are the all-time best Jeffrey George poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

The quiet never comes

I drank myself numb
to hide the pain—
the things I saw,
the voices I heard
when the world went quiet.

The bottle never judged me.
It just blurred the edges.
Made the flashes softer,
the guilt quieter,
the ghosts… not gone,
but easier to sit with.

But your past always catches up.
You can’t outdrink memory forever.

Steel on my wrists.
Bars I fell behind.
Not a hero.
Just a man
running from himself
with nowhere left to go.

Addiction turned to darkness—
the kind that sits in your chest
and convinces you
you’re too broken to come back.

Broken without all the pieces.
Some are buried.
Some I gave away.
Some I watched die with men braver than me.

The weight of guilt
crushing down like armor I can’t take off.
I carry their names like shrapnel.
I wear their memory like scars.

An empty life
without my brothers.
Most days I fake the smile.
Some days I can’t.

And if you ever see me cry
when I look at the flag—
don’t ask why.
Just know
I remember what it cost.

I live in hell most nights,
so others can have dreams.
Let ‘em sleep, let ‘em laugh—
I’ll carry the screams.

The memories turned to nightmares
that now invade the day.
I close my eyes
and still see it all.

I have no peace…
Just the peace I protected.
And that’s what I gave—
Even if it cost me everything.

On my face, you’d never know…
but the devil invites me home at every turn.

The quiet never comes…
but neither does surrender.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

heartbreak hotel

Heartbreak Hotel
by JG

Those kind, heartfelt words he used...
His soft touch flowing through your hair.
That perfect kiss to seal a magical night,
His charming humor calming your mind.

An unforgettable smile that soothed your soul,
And the sound of that cherished L word beneath the stars.

But days pass
Without his sweet voice in your ear.
Your skin forgets his warming touch.

Her heart stops—eyes blinded.
Across the room,
His hands now move through another’s hair.
The same sweet lines
Persuading her home with him.

A single tear falls down her cheek.
Another room in the Heartbreak Hotel.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

whispers to the wind

At the end of every day,
when the house goes quiet
and her laughter fades into sleep,
I step outside
and talk to the wind.

That’s where you are,
isn’t it?

I tell you how she smiled today—
missing her two front teeth,
but still lighting the whole damn room.
You’d have laughed.

I tell you how she scraped her knee
trying to ride without training wheels.
I held her while she cried,
and I whispered what you’d say:
"You’re tougher than you know, baby girl."

Sometimes, I tell you things
I can’t say to anyone else—
how I’m scared I’m not enough,
how I see you in her every day
and it wrecks me in the best and worst ways.

I told you when she made honor roll.
When she kissed my cheek
and called me her hero.
You’d be proud of her…
You’d be proud of me, I hope.

I even told you about the first boy
who made her blush—
God help him.

When she got sick,
I sat beside her bed
and begged you in silence
to keep her safe.
And when she opened her eyes,
I swear, I felt your hand on my shoulder.

I tell you when I lose it.
When the loneliness is louder
than her laughter.
When the walls feel too tight
and the silence feels like failure.

But most nights…
I just say thank you.
For giving me her.
For giving me the strength
to keep going.

She’s growing up fast.
Smarter than me,
braver than I deserve.
You’d love her stories.
You’d love her heart.

One day, I’ll tell her
how I talked to you every night.
How you were never really gone.
How her mama still walks these halls
in wind and memory.

Until then—
I’ll keep whispering
your name
into the breeze
that wraps around my chest
like your arms used to.

You’re still here.
You never left.

And I’ll keep you close
in every breath,
in every storm,
in every quiet
night of love.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

Two Drinks For The Road

Death walks over,
boots quiet on the bar floor,
pulls up a stool
like we’ve met before.

He tips his hat,
cold eyes, tired grin.
Says, “It’s time, friend.”
I just nod,
signal the bartender with a raised chin.

"Two drinks for the road."
I say it like a prayer,
like a dare,
like I’ve still got something left in the tank
even if I don’t.

He doesn’t rush me.
Death never does.
Just watches
as the glass hits the wood
and memories start to pour.

One for the brothers I left in the sand.
One for the promises I broke with my own hands.

We drink in silence.
Not out of respect—
but because neither of us
needs to explain the wreck.

I ask if it hurts,
when it finally comes.
He says,
"Only when they fight.
Not when they’re done."

I look at my hands—
scarred, steady.
Worn from holding
more ghosts than glory.

Then I finish the second glass,
stand slow.
“You ready?” he asks.
I say,
“Ready? No. But I’m not scared anymore.”

We walk out the door
under a sky I don’t fear.
Not because I want to go—
but because I’ve been carrying the end
for years.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

pillar of love

After all these years,
we still stand—
your love,
your life,
sacrificed for me.

Our struggles were always overtaken by love.
Your smile
shone brighter than the rest.
You blossomed into my rose,
my calm in every storm.

You were my heart
when mine felt lost.
My shoulder
when the world came crashing.
Your kisses—
moments of love I’ll never forget.

We shared laughter,
shared dreams,
and then…
shared life.

I watched your hands shake,
your eyes go dim—
as you gave everything
to bring ours into this world.

You left me with a heartbeat
and a newborn cry.
One life gone.
Two still alive.

Now it’s just us.
Me and the child
you gave your life for.
She has your eyes.
And every time I see her smile—
I swear I see you.

I walk alone,
but never without you.
Tiny footprints follow mine,
but your shadow walks beside us.

I tell her stories.
I hold her close.
I wear your ring.
I kiss your photo.
And some nights,
when the wind moves just right—
I hear your voice whisper:
"You’re doing just fine."

Our hearts are still strong.
Our souls still chained.
And when my time comes—
when the quiet takes me too—
I know you’ll be there,
waiting in the light.

I will find you again,
my pillar of love.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

soft like the wind


Hi, Mom.
I hope you’re somewhere beautiful—
the way Dad always says you are.

I’m older now.
Not a baby anymore.
I wish I could remember your voice,
but I hear it
in his.

He still talks about you—
every night,
when he thinks I’m asleep.
He steps outside,
looks up at the sky,
and whispers.

Sometimes I hear him cry,
soft like the wind.
Sometimes I smile,
'cause I know you're listening.

He’s doing his best, Mom.
You’d be proud of him.
He burns toast,
forgets picture day,
can’t braid hair to save his life—
but he never misses a hug.
Not once.

He tells me stories about you,
and every one feels like a dream.
He says I have your eyes.
I see you in his.

He still sets a place for you
at the table on your birthday.
He still wears that ring—
and he still talks to your photo
like you're just away for a while.

He laughs sometimes, too.
When I dance like you used to.
When I say something smart
and stubborn.
He says,
"That's your mama."
And I see his heart break
and heal
in the same breath.

Sometimes I talk to you, too.
When it’s quiet.
When I miss you.
When I want to thank you
for giving me the best dad in the world.

He’s not perfect.
But he’s everything.

I think
he still carries you
in every step.
And I carry you both
in mine.

Love you always,
Mom.
Soft like the wind.
Forever like the stars.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

No Bruises

Growing up,
you dream of Prince Charming—
the one who’ll set your heart free.
Spinning in hope,
you wait for the one
who’ll love you right.

And then he comes.
He’s charming, alright—
with soft words,
a warm smile,
and eyes that learn your every crack.

But not every crown shines.
Not every prince saves.
Some just learn
where to press
so it hurts without bruises.

He never raised his voice—
at least not at first.
Just small corrections,
little rules,
words that stung
with a smile behind them.

"That dress is too much."
"I only get mad because I care."
"You know how lucky you are, right?"

And she believed him.
Because love is patient.
Love is kind.
And she thought if she just loved harder,
he’d be soft again.

She learned to be quiet
before he ever yelled.
Knew how to read the room
like a battlefield.
Every breath,
every glance,
a calculation
to avoid the spark.

He never hit her.
Not with fists.
But silence can strangle.
And words can bleed.
He carved shame into her skin
with a whisper and a glance.

"Why do you always ruin everything?"
"No one else would love you like I do."
"You're lucky I stay."

So she stayed.
Locked in a house
that used to feel like hope,
now a cage with good curtains
and cold dinners.

She smiled in public.
Laughed on command.
But inside,
she was screaming
in a language
no one else could hear.

She stared at the tiled floor,
counting her breaths,
wondering how long it would take
to disappear completely.

And when the silence grew too heavy,
and the weight in her chest
felt sharper than fear—
she stopped counting.

She left no note.
No final words.
Just a quiet stillness
in a home full of noise.

The world kept spinning.
Neighbors waved.
Her name faded
into passing conversation.

He cried for cameras.
Blamed the stress.
Said, “She was always a little emotional.”

But the truth sat
on that bathroom floor.
In the shape of a woman
who gave everything
until there was
nothing left.

She didn’t die of heartbreak.
She didn’t die by choice.

She died
because no one believed
what he never bruised.

She died
because silence
can be louder than screams.

She died
because the cage didn’t look like one.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

The Ones Who Don’t Break Out Loud

He wakes up early,
not because he’s rested—
but because the world doesn't wait.
It expects.
Demands.
Takes.

He shows up.
He earns.
He fixes what’s broken.
But no one asks
if he’s broken.

He’s the provider.
The protector.
The one who says “I got it”
even when he doesn’t.
Even when the weight is killing him.

His hands are calloused.
His smile’s automatic.
His inbox is full of bills,
but his chest is full of silence.

No one asks how he’s sleeping.
No one wonders if he’s lonely.
He’s a paycheck,
a pair of shoulders,
a name on the lease.

They don’t see the nights
he sits in the garage
just to breathe in quiet.
They don’t hear the thoughts
that echo when the house goes still.

He’s not allowed to break.
He’s not allowed to cry.
Because somewhere along the way,
the world decided
a man who bends
must be weak.

But he still shows up.
Every damn day.
With a tired back
and a full heart
that no one checks on.

So if you see him—
really see him—
don’t thank him.
Don’t pat his back
and walk away.

Sit down.
Pour two drinks.
And ask—
not what he does…
but who he is.

Ask what keeps him up at night.
What he’s lost along the way.
What he hides
when the lights go out.

And if he pauses—
just wait.
Because sometimes,
the strongest men
don’t need advice.
They just need someone
who finally listen

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

learning to live Again

Through the waning years, we experience so much—
The highs, the lows, and the path in between.
The loss of friends and family cuts deep,
And heartbreak clouds the mind with grief.

The failures we face, the mountains we can't climb,
To find our true selves is the puzzle we’re born to solve.
The burdens we carry, the rivers we wade—
All part of the path we were meant to seek.

Our greatest strength can be our worst weakness,
And to truly walk our path, we must learn to walk again.

As we rediscover who we are,
We must start anew—
Clear our minds of guilt and shame,
Mend our broken hearts,
Rekindle our soul.

Learning to walk again
Means opening the gates of the mind,
Roaming free where the heart dares to lead.

Never fear trying.
Never fear failing.
Failure teaches the best lessons of all.

Let your soul live,
Feel your heart beat.
Keep your smile—hold your head high.
You never know what lies ahead.

Details | Jeffrey George Poem

No Room For Fear

Hot desert days,
scared—
but can’t show it.
Eyes sharp, hands steady,
but the heart’s in a fist,
shoved somewhere behind the plate carrier.

Brothers have my back,
and my heart.
They’re the reason I walk forward
when every instinct tells me to run.

We don’t say much—
just nods, tight grips,
the kind of silence
that means I got you
without ever saying a damn word.

Guns boom,
lights flash,
a brother lost.

Time stops—
but not enough.
You can’t cry when you’re returning fire.
You can’t scream
when your teeth are clenched tight around the pain.

Told a brother’s dead.
A burden I carry
like it’s strapped to my back.
Lunch I had with him
the day before.
Laughed like fools over ty coffee and a bag of jerky.
Now his seat’s empty.
Now I sit with that silence.

A band on my wrist
with his name.
Black letters, white steel.
Forever with me—
when I eat, when I sleep,
when I wonder why I’m still here.

I made it back.
But I didn’t come back whole.
Some parts stayed buried in that sand—
some I left on purpose.

I walk through the store
and wonder how the hell
everyone else seems so normal.
I smile for him—
because he’d want me to live.
But I cry for me,
because I don’t know how.

The world moved on.
I’m still standing still.
And some nights—
I wish I hadn’t made it home at all.