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Best Poems Written by Samantha Senft-Greenberg

Below are the all-time best Samantha Senft-Greenberg poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Unconventional Lovers

Pillows and blankets
Shaped in a 'V',
Bottles and pills
In a wrapper-filled sea.

Drool on our faces
Clothes on the ceiling.
These are the nights
My heart is healing.

My head on your feet
Your toes in my hair,
A repulsive aroma
Sweetens the air.

It's the puddle of glop
Is that yours or mine?
It doesn't matter
We'll both decline.

Though we both know it's yours
You somehow persuade,
And I clean up the mess
You swiftly evade.

I open the blinds
To see what we've missed,
You gripe and you grumble
But comply when you're kissed.

An hour to be active
Before it's once again night,
An hour to argue
And tickle and fight.

All showered and groomed
Clothes still on the ceiling,
These are the days
My heart is healing.

The sky turns to black
From the momentary blue,
But my day isn't wasted
When I'm wasting with you.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Painted People

I know of a man, a normal man.
He has hair and eyes
and wears clothes and shoes.
He walks, he breathes, he blinks.
He bathes, he sleeps, he eats.

I think I love this normal man
for I, too, have hair and eyes
and I wear clothes and shoes.
I walk, I breathe, I blink.
I bathe, I sleep, I eat.

We are perfect for each other
how could we not be?
We grin, we frown, we laugh.
We have fingers and toes
and hearts and brains.

I know of a man, an ordinary man
whose body is clean and clear
like an empty canvas with perfect lines and shapes
steadily painted on to form an elegant horizon
and hung for all to admire.

I think I love this ordinary man
for his colors are soothing and dull
with perfect portions of hues painted throughout.
He is smooth and light
weighing only as much as his frame.

We are perfect for each other
how could we not be?
He is perfection; a piece of art
and I, an admirer of art,
could not disregard his perfect eloquence.

I know of a man, a handsome man
whose body is a canvas painted purple by scars and bruises
with watercolor eyes, a pastel smile
and a backdrop smothered in charcoal,
and is hung in the rain to dry.

I think I love this handsome man
for I am an admirer of art.
Rugged edges take place of an invisible frame that shapes him.
His paint is slathered on
causing disfigurement in the crooked horizon of his design.

We are perfect for each other
but how could we be?
He is perfection; pieces of art
hung out for the world to analyze.
And I, a mere admirer of art, stand at a distance in reverence. 

I know a man, a handsome man
who is normal and different and strange.
He has hair and eyes
and wears clothes and shoes.
He grins, he frowns, he laughs.

I fell in love with this handsome man
for he has something no one else has:
My intrigued focus, which admires his blotches of heavy paint
splashed onto his flooded canvas.
He has depth, prominence, and ambiguity.

We are perfect for each other
how could we not be?
He is neither a beach nor sunset,
but a sweet disarray of shapes and lines
frantically scattered about in space.

And I, myself, an empty star,
am frantically searching 
for something in space.
And I am drawn to his darkness
for it shields my light.

And in this art show of a world
we are painted people, hung out to be bought and sold
admired and analyzed.
And I bought the dark, battered canvas
with no expression or poise

For I fell in love with this beautiful art,
and on my wall,
placed near the fire,
it will always hang to dry.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

My Adjective

You are an adjective to me;
Not a person, place, or thing.
Neither object nor property,
Nor a figure or being.

You are not simply boy or girl,
Or a shining star.
Not a luminescent pearl,
Or a song on the guitar.

You are the lovely of an angel,
The golden of a star.
The lustrous of a pearl,
The melodic of a guitar.

You are the diamond of the ring,
The warmness of the heat,
The beauty of the Spring,
The rhythm of my beat.

You’re the meaning of the phrase,
The detail in a scene,
The worship to the praise,
The picture on the screen.

You’re my sweet, my elegant,
My enchanting, my angelic;
My wonderful, my intelligent,
My charming, my poetic.

You are an adjective to me
Not because you’re incomplete;
You’re just too indefinite to be concrete.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Another Wasted

She waits in silence for him to come back,
Knowing better than to ask where he's been.
When stumbling in with a bottle of Jack,
She knows at that moment it will begin.

Another night painted purple with proof,
Though she swears she'll leave him every next day.
Staring right through his eyes she stands aloof,
Not even bothering to plead or pray.

Like water lets the wind take all control,
She becomes a stone wall, flinching never.
Appearing strong but by an empty soul,
She wishes only to sleep forever.

She now lies still like a rock under Earth.
Neither one knew what value she was worth.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

The Housewife

I must have left the window up
For a creature came inside.
She was bright and beautiful, with ornate wings;
You would never believe your eyes.

"What are you doing here, little thing?
The meadow is your home.
You are much too stunning, lovely, wonderful,
To be in the dreary dome.

But you might just be the perfect thing
To give this house some light."
So I fetched a jar of transparent glass, 
And lured her in without a fight.

She flapped and fluttered in her crystal lodge,
Inducing the cat to the table.
I then moved her up to a safer place
Where she was seen but not obtainable.

This should keep the critter safe;
Secure and snug in her own bubble.
No dangers shall she ever face:
No killers, no storms, no trouble.

A week had passed with my radiant guest
Though I hadn't much observed it.
I was far too busy tending other things
To notice every flit.

Then one day while knitting it was grimly silent,
And staleness filled my mug.
I sat 'til I finished my husband's sweater
Then got up to check the bug.

How long was she like this? I gasped,
As I cringed with utter disgust.
Nothing was left of her but folded wings,
For her body had turned to dust.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Regret

I knelt down at a little creek
To cure my aching thirst.
But before the water touched my cheek
It asked me something first:

“Whose reflection is this here?
Does it have a name?
It has your eyes and look of fear
Yet I know it’s not the same.”

The silent voice then went away
To leave me all alone.
And in my thoughts the question stayed,
With the answer still unknown.

I gazed into the rippled face
And, though I thought it strange,
Those eyes, that hair, the look of grace
Were once mine before I changed.

Now my eyes are dark and weary,
Worn out from hiding pain.
My tears are dry, my mind is dreary
And my life is down the drain.

So I dove into the crystal stream
To save that fragile child,
But as I leapt into the dream
The waves just glared and smiled.

The creek was winding and much too wide
The current took me fast.
I tried to swim against the tide
But I could not change the past.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Conformity

In the beginning of spring a path was made
In a shady green forest where lovers laid.

It connected the west side to the east,
And brought together Beauty and Beast.

The path was secret--only for love,
Quiet and secluded, with an occasional dove.

With secrets come whispers--whispers through trees.
Rumors were carried in the voice of the breeze.

Many supporters of this path of pleasure
Made it less hidden--something to treasure.

Blooming spring flowers made a nice décor,
And by summer, the count was even more.

With more and more sins having been created,
The path was forbidden and very much hated.

The rebellious cries in the starlit night
Gave all the wise men quite a fright.

No more eloping, or the mindless riots.
The path became empty; the forest quiets.

Many months pass, and winter nears.
The path is now covered with gold and brown tears.

Defeated and hidden by the wisest of men,
The shameful path was never again.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

I Wish You Knew

This is the tragedy
Of how I lost it all.
It happened the night
I denied your call.

I was dazed, I was drunken
I heard the barman’s voice.
I then blindly decided 
You were my second choice.

I was completely unprepared
For the news I received.
“Not my love, it’s a lie”
As I broke down and heaved.

If only I answered
If only I heard.
You’d be my first choice,
Not my second nor third.

Though a little too late
I’ve learned my lesson,
I’ll think not even once
About ignoring my blessing.

I should’ve done this
A long time ago.
I know it’s too late
But I thought you should know:

I’m sorry I wasn’t better,
Sorry I wasn’t the same.
I’m sorry I can’t take back
The fool that I became.

I’m sorry I couldn’t express
Just how I really felt,
And I wish that you knew
You’re the reason I knelt.

Every morning when I woke,
Every night while you slept.
You might not have noticed,
But my promise I had kept.

I prayed for forgiveness
I prayed for advice.
I prayed for myself
But I prayed for you twice.

If only you knew
You’re the reason I’m living.
You’ve filled me with hope
But I’ll never be forgiving.

I wish I could change
Your heartbreaking fate.
Twelve months sober
But twelve months too late.

I wish that you knew
I’m still in love with your ghost,
And I’m sorry I wasn’t there
When you needed me most.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Trust

In the tundra lies a wall
That's crumbled and cracked but does not fall.
Sixteen layers of rebuilt block,
Trashed and tinted with paint and chalk.

For all that try to climb its height:
Just give up the useless fight.
For miles wide the wall goes on,
And ends where all the snow is gone.

But in the wall is a hidden door
With a polished handle and nothing more.
Many have searched time after time,
But only one will make the climb.

One step through to the other side
Causes the wall and wind to collide.
Down at last the wall will be,
The debris will soar from snow to sea.

But where the snow continues to fall,
There will forever remain a wall.

Details | Samantha Senft-Greenberg Poem

Don'T Let Go

Her long ebony locks tickle the 
floor
She looks at her eyes, then 
grooms herself more.

One hundred strokes through 
her sleek black hair
While she poses straight in her 
vanity chair.

A splash of crimson on her 
flushed pale skin
Her lips reveal her deadly sin.

The moonlight highlights her 
broken shell
Her cold, dry eyes know only 
time will tell.

She slowly rises, giving one 
look more
Then hesitates as she shuts the 
door.

She stops for a moment to soak 
up the silence
And thinks of the hatred, the 
selfishness and violence.

She continues on with her only 
escape
She turns off the lights and 
closes the drapes.

She readies herself for her final 
defeat
She had lost the battle and 
must now retreat.

Wearing her pearls and her 
laced-up gown
She crawls into bed and lies 
herself down.

“Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to 
keep..”

The gleaming dagger targets 
her breast
Her heart beats violently 
beneath her chest.

Almost there, a small distance 
more
Her arm stops quickly, sparing 
the gore.

Laughter arises from the floor 
below
The voice of a boy; a young, pure fellow.

She opens her eyes, in shock 
and in fear
That she’d almost lost someone 
very dear.

She closes her eyes yet once 
again
She says a prayer and an 
“amen”.

Her obligations consume her 
heart
More so than the wish to part.

She thought about love, 
kindness and care
Life is a blessing, not meant for 
despair.

We are all attached, like 
branches on trees
And we are all rooted like 
weeds in the breeze.