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Best Poems Written by Jodie Hannen

Below are the all-time best Jodie Hannen poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Mothers Journey

What can she really say?
He left, went away.
Her baby cooed.
Tears shed,
uncertain.

She picked herself up again,
unashamed she was alone.
No more tears,
the future
clearer.

Looking at her baby asleep,
snug and warm, unstirring.
A contented feeling
of love
overwhelming.

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Heavy Eyes

Awoke this morning
unwilling to get up; go.
Her eyes were on strike.

Very snug and warm.
Pillow wanted her to stay,
but time said no way.

Her limbs were achy.
She felt older than her years.
Monday morn here!

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As We Sipped Wine

Someone kindly told me of
their admiration for me.  Such
meaningful words I cherish now.
Her genuine eyes so bright
with emotion, I nearly cried.

We were sat close,
sharing another subtle moment.
This made me proud.
Our friendship good; strong.

She speaks honestly,
open with me
about her feelings.

So thoughtful
and understanding.

Friend.

Details | Jodie Hannen Poem

A Weed In a Well Kept Garden

There, my eyes fixed on the yellow paving stone.
Amongst a slightly tangled dandelion leaf is a
little purple demon staring back at me.
Just stood casually as the suns rays continue
to bounce vividly off the heated ground.

I notice those pointed eyes all sharp and looking frightened,
that I might disrupt his peaceful unity with the warm breeze.
I won't, but I'll remain enchanted by such presence.
His gold earrings reflect many colours of the passing day,
as they appear all the way up those elongated ears.

A tiny ruby shines from a chain around his neck
and there I see the hour glass dangling unthreateningly.
The indents of aged muscle mould above his chest bone
to form perfect pectorals.  On each tiny nipple is another hoop;
only, they are bronze in appearance, almost wilting in their achingness.

I'm overwhelmed as I thought I recognised the curling of his mouth,
a smile for me. I smile back uncertain if he would think I am afraid.
Then his sharp ivory teeth poke out and I know I have done a good thing.
The greens of his emerald eyes enlighten the evilness,
he just wants fresh air from the summers sky as I do.

A tail slivers like a python in the air with a triangular form at its end.
His nails look dangerous on the edges if his twig like fingers.
But I do not feel them piercing my soul.
For his hour glass is not pouring any golden sand on this day, no.

So I watch him leave and I am left to thoughts about a small world
with the beetles, flies and mice.
I find myself then laughing at such mythical fantasies.

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Seasons Apart

Spring time air all around.
Bulbs pushing up through the tender soil.
A beautiful time of year.

Summer sun above candy clouds.
Grass so green, full of vibrant life.
A breeze so gently warm.

Ground littered with rusty colours.
Autumnal dew upon perished leaves falling down.
Coming soon; a colder season.

Frozen landscapes under minus degrees.
Icy cold winds galloping steadfast through skies.
Dull essence of winter, here.

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All That Are Tree's

Standing fearlessly beneath the sky.
A haven for creatures that fly.

The beauty of your many outstretched limbs
paint such wondrous pictures
in the subtle landscape.

Fires will destroy you so.
I would rather see
your natural state,
so free,
magnificent.

Strength and beauty so.
Climbing frames to the heavens.
Protectors and spies.

---------------------
By Jodie Hannen

For the:
Nature, Four in One Contest

Sponsored by 
~Constance La France~A Rambling Poet~~

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Herself, Her Unborn

It was a frozen morning as she shivered in her place, yawning.
A bland days early light tried its best to make earth brighter.

The engine of her ageing car hummed tiredly after a cold nights stillness and she 
sympathised quietly.

The weathers icy film had fallen like a landslide before her eyes; she came to notice 
the things around her.

Just a tiny distance away stood a blackbird and his friend, the robin.  They 
exchanged songs and gathered food, as together thay ate early morning worms.

It was at this time that she stood motionless and thought as herself being the 
blackbird and her unborn child, the robin; united in company, doing things as mother 
nature intends.

Yet they are seperate souls, but still a constant reminder of one another.
This, she cherishes as she watches them fly away.

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Him Or Her

Standing up the easel and putting on a scrap piece of paper,
the person with grey eyes and olive skin blinked
aimlessly at the new found lay out of the untouched page.
A smile was not apparent on the cracked lips of the mouth.

Above, the stars did their thing and twinkled.
A single petal of blossom floated into disappearance
amongst the nightfalls navies.

The hand pencilled a staggering drunken man,
covered head to toe in an alcoholic quiver; he was
slowly killing his own liver. 

Then the hand smudged a river under a delightful starry sky;
the man in the picture too bewildered in mind to feel
the piercing coldness from the rivers wind.

The drawing a work of amateur art that nobody had not yet seen.

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All Hallows Eve and More

The pumpkin's almost done, each pip sticking to the edges, not wanting to be parted from its mother.
The fresh, chilly new winters gale collided into her by the ajar window and she shivered.
She could see the orange moon glide vividly across the bed of lilac clouds; night was yet to come.
A single candle was placed inside the Jack-o-lantern and she lit it for fun.
Imagining a bunch of dancing witches sing amongst the undisturbed flames.  
She smiled knowingly at such glee a cackle they make.
The distant sun shone from a crack in the blues and violets of the skyline.
Triangle eyes of the pumpkin rejoiced silently at her and her minds eye was triumphant.
Its jagged teeth, some square, some not poked out from a smirking grin.
Then she climbed the wooden stairs and got whisked away in a night of amazing simile and superstition.
Her wardrobe threw clothes at her and each garment was her friend.
Racing to the front room again, she looked to her orange companion; casting a purple shadow.
Her cloak trailed excitedly after her body and the black boots clipped on the thin rug beneath her fish-netted feet.
Halloween was here again and what a rush of anxiety it brings to her soul.
She and her pumpkin made readiness in dancing about the egg soaked roads, to become engrossed in a number of friends and stink-bombs.

By Jodie Hannen

05-11-2011

For Linda Marie The sweetheart of P.S "Holiday Hearth" Poetry Contest

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The Two of Us By the Sea

I look forward to a long weekend spent with my son.
Lets just hope the clouds show some sunshine.
So that we may take a trip in the car.
Run along the beach; actually no matter if it should rain.
Enjoy time spent together as we laugh and play.
My camera will be in our company, for taking pictures; I love.
Fish and chips by the sea most definite.
Arcades; well that's gotta be done-the Teddy and Two pence machines.
A stroll around the shops to buy a fridge magnet and an ice cream, of course.
I will watch my son throw pebbles into the sea.
It's by no means the best beach, but the excitement in his eyes says no matter.
Getting away to the seaside is special to us.