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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
The crux of my jigsaw
is plastered on my face.
In scribbles of mine, I find-
a younger mind in my place.
Time's lapsed without define
as I read these words of mine.
Semi-confused and struggling,
Do I revise? -oh, this is puzzling.
What say you, my friend of mystery?
Do you rearrange the past,
or grant amnesty?
Post as is, or adjust its mast?
Touch the voice of the lost,
or leave her voice with a cost?
The past's sound disassociates
from present mind, to recalibrate.
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2025
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
The Word is food for humans
Manna from the Creator above
Perfect in every form
Nutritious enough to nourish
The heart to warmth
Substance for the soul
Eternal life is the Word's goal
Streams of living water supply its roots.
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2025
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
All in gloom the grays and black
Dark colors take up the slack
It is a bad day I say to myself
To justify the acts I put on the shelf
Distressing the stress the aim the goal
Ending the time the day has stole
Shades and curtains play amongst shadows
As I settle down in my warm burrows
Heavy like rocks on my eye's lid
Telling this bad day you've been outbid.
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2025
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
Surreal awareness
the house an inch shell
of a functioning life.
The rooms
holding closets of
untold depth surrounded
by a moat chained locked
and a sign on the door
"forbidden territory
do not enter
all who dare will be
altered on sight"
surreal awareness
enigma of no definition.
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2025
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
She was let free today
From her bound encasing
Up from her rooted placing.
A cool valiant wind
Rushes under her wing.
Envisioning all
That she would discover
In the glory of her coming days.
A venture creating a distance
Between her and the shelter
Of her youthful plays
As the path to refuge fades
And her glory frays.
Willing her flight
To depths unknown
Finding her strength
Overcoming the chills
Passing the barrier
Of darkened shores
Restoring her glory
She ventures on.
A new horizon is uncovered.
In the land she discovered.
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2025
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
Marooned, where's a friend?
Too blind to notice what's before me.
Left behind in a land that's unkind.
Only to question. Where is the legacy?
I'll find it, marooned, forgotten
buried deep inside the walls
of a grandfather clock.
Chiming its way through the years
with no one knowing
the secret that sleeps inside.
Where is my legacy?
It's marooned and forgotten.
*WEJS*
*The Musings of a Mind on the Edge*
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2026
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
Some Fallen quest on sunbeams
The eastern winds steer them all home
They reconcile upon warm sand
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2026
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
We are your inner conflict.
Voice in your inner ear.
Thoughts in the mud
gaining life.
Through
you.
These words are for those
who try to remove us.
It's like trying to
remove the Id from the me—
or the myself from I.
You cannot make us go away just by saying,
"No! You don't exist."
We will always be in some form—
maintain our places.
We are the fragments of this shell—
Or shall we say, we are of what was herself.
Imagine, many can be the strength in one.
Each one performs a function.
The most important are those
of us who were here first.
When the crack broke the walls.
The expanse started growing
until our ground split to
keep things from moving.
You don't see us,
for we blend so well at times.
Like a chameleon,
we move through your world.
Some of the fragments
have episodes of chaos.
But, to prevent our end from happening—
We will frustrate you.
To stop you from triggering damage.
We will scramble to collect ourselves.
Bracing the walls as the mold crumbles.
To make things sustainable once more.
Holding things together by
keeping the light of her core
safely away from a darkened menace.
Also you, indifferent outside.
The conflict
between us and you
between inside and out
from left and right
deep and shallow.
The battle of mind
to the will of life
We wager onward
amidst this strife.
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2026
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Wanda Jonesshea Poem
Fire- fire- fire
A scorching wind of the four corners.
Lava breaks the ground beneath you.
Igniting all that surrounds you.
The alarm blares at the station
Fighters of fire scramble
toward their readied engines.
In a flash, like a spark on this heated moment-
Vapor rises like a cold mist melting the alarm.
Your vision fades-
The station is silent.
Reality reclaiming its ground,
sending you back over by the fires,
You watch and wait,
trailing on the winds of ash and smoke.
Comes a branding thought-
caught by your ears:
"Be patient, wait for your help.
You will not see it,
nor know its ways.
But you will survive."
Deafened by the roar of the blaze
and crackling of the ground
Screaming "I have nowhere to go!"
Patience- Patience- patience
The message melts across the fires.
Baking its way into your ears.
"Days are fleeting and will end.
Years are hard with labor but will soften.
Decades fade into the fires, those will cool.
Remain patient,
and wait for your help.
You will not see it,
nor know its ways.
But you will survive."
Copyright © Wanda JonesShea | Year Posted 2026
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