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Best Poems Written by Maddie Knickel

Below are the all-time best Maddie Knickel poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Maddie Knickel Poem

Fade Into Oblivion

Fade into Oblivion

Moisture taken capive
Sensation of precipitation, lost and forgotten
Vivid sunlight filling dark crevices
Dry heat blurs the horizon
The wind, no longer traveling
Reticence materlizes
All is still

Stagnant she stands
Braided amber tresses
Her calaced hands, adjusting plaid sleeves, brushing ripped jeans
Flawless complexion, flooded with freckles, beaded with sweat
Golden eyelashes dance upon silky pink cheeks
Hazel eyes drift
Perimeter remains serene

Alone
Her sweet voice, humming soft tunes
Selfless, she becomes
One with the land, one with the heat, one with the world
Her mind looses track
Time passes

Parched canvas cracks beneath leather boots
A figure approaching- a boy
Dark jeans 
Thin white cloth conceals his chest
Rich brown curls cover his ears
Electric blue eyes skitter over the dessert floor he walks upon
Right hand ascends, an attempt to greet  with a softened warm grin

Soon upon her
He caresses her smooth arms
Ascending to her shoulders
Brushing her neck
Gentle lips merge
Her mind races
Their surroundings blur
They fade into oblivion

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Goodbye, My Sweet Angel

Goodbye, My Sweet Angel

Tears trickle down her freckled cheeks
Eyes red and blurred
She gazed at me 
Trapped inside her father's speeding truck
I following , running screaming her name
She, screaming mine
Legs burning, stinging, tiring
Tears running down my face
Her dainty red nose, pressed against the glass
Weaker with every stride
Petite hands, pressed to the window
My pace slows, can not go any longer
Yelling her sweet name
Sobbing, to my knees
The truck, disappearing, gone
I had lost her
Goodbye, my sweet angel

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Hurricanes

Hurricanes

Rain never ceasing
Wind boldly thrashing; objects fly
Path of destruction

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Book

……

     Searing pain shot through 
my body like a wave of heat. I 
raised my arm to feel my 
cheek, but he grabbed my 
wrist, forcing it back to my 
side. A small whimper escaped 
my lips. 
     "Shut up!" he growled 
slapping me so hard that I 
could hear the clap of his scaly, 
calloused skin on my cheek.  
My body was overcome by 
shock and I cowered down into 
the corner, giving him even 
more of an unfair advantage. I 
ran my back down the wall and 
squealed in pain as a rusty nail 
drew a long bloody line from 
my shoulder blades to the 
bottom of my abdomen. 
     "I said shut up!" he snapped 
as he jabbed me in the side 
with his leather hunting boot.  I 
screamed, I couldn't help it. I 
converted to the fetal position 
terrified of what my outburst 
had cost me. To my sunrise, I 
heard him mumble something 
under his breath and shuffle to 
the other side of the room. I 
peeked through the gap in my 
forearms. He was sifting 
through the closet. He snatched 
his black, leather jacket off the 
hanger and forced it over his 
broad shoulders. He then 
reached to the top shelf of the 
closet and grabbed a burgundy 
red box, our emergency safe. 
He spun the dial and it clicked 
open. He shoved all the money 
into his pockets and reached 
back in for our small .22 caliber 
pistol. (Shit, I forgot we had 
that.) I was stricken with panic, 
wondering what he planned to 
do with it. He tucked the gun in 
the back of his pants and pulled 
his shirt over it. He approached 
me again but only stood there 
and glared at me. I retuned the 
gaze. His face was concealed 
by a film of sweat and his 
short, dark brown hair 
smoothed back by mousse. His 
soft eyes were clouded by 
anger and pain. He was an 
attractive man, and I loved 
him. 
      I tried to stand,  but I 
became dizzy and collapsed 
back to the floor. 
     "Psssh, weak bitch," he 
snarled. He took one last 
agonizing glare at me and 
headed for the door. I 
swallowed and attempted to 
stand once more. I firmly 
pressed my hands to the wall, 
pushing, forcing myself up. I 
swallowed again, attempting to 
moisten my throat, but my 
mouth was too dry and 
chapped from my painful 
screams. 
     "David, wait. I love you. 
Wait, please," my throat 
burned as I forced out the plea. 
The screen door creaked as he 
jerked it open. He stepped out, 
not even bothering to look back 
at me. I cringed as the door 
slammed, leaving my ears 
ringing. 

* * * * *

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A Princess In Black

A Princess In Black

A box of dark willow
Upon a cushion of white
Think blonde curls, each carefully laid
Skin whiter than snow
Bold eyelashes rested on smooth cheeks
Eyelids dusted with shimmering gold
Pale cheeks brushed with soft pink
Pink lips, still, to speak never again

Hollow collarbone concealed by flowing black cloth
Black sleeves ended just below lifeless fingers
Thin waist wrapped with sinched elastic
Loose black skirt left ankles and feet bare.

The coffin lid closes
One last tear emerges
Her sweet voice, still ringing
Her soft whispers, still noticed
A princess in black, never forgotten

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My First Poem

My first poem, sort and brief
Poetry Soup, I intend to greet
Poems to read, poems to post
Hello, Poetry Soup
I will give it my most

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Book 3

(What have I done? This is 
all my fault. He has never left 
like that. What if he doesn't 
come back? What about Maya? 
Oh, shit! Maya!) I flew up 
throwing the chair behind me. I 
ran up the stairs, every step an 
obstacle to my beaten legs. 
     When I reached the top I 
was barely breathing, too much 
had been taken out of me. I 
captured my breath and 
shuffled to Maya's room. I 
gazed over her bed, but she 
wasn't there. 
     "Maya? Huney? It's okay," I 
coaxed. There was no 
response. I laid down on my 
stomach and lifted her pink 
quilt to look under her bed. All I 
saw was darkness. I was 
overcome by complete 
confusion and concern. Every 
time he had beaten me before, 
I had come to find her tucked 
under her bed, but she wasn't 
there. 
     "Maya?" I croaked. I lifted 
my self up and surveyed the 
room. Small slivers of light 
shone through the cracks in the 
blinds. The pale pink paint on 
the walls was chipping, 
revealing the old wooden 
planks that the wall was made 
of. The carpet was stained 
many different shades of brown 
and was littered by old stuffed 
animals. My eyes drifted to the 
white closet doors. (The 
closet!) I walked to the closet 
and pulled the doors open. 
     "Maya?" I said searching the 
darkness. 
     "Mommy?" she said 
crawling out of the corner of 
the closet. I collected her in a 
firm embrace, burying my face 
in her shoulder. Her dainty 
frame pressed against mine, 
her soft brown curls brushing 
up against my cheek. "Mommy? 
What's wrong? I heard the 
screaming," she placed her cool 
hands on my cheeks. I sat 
there in silence because i was 
too afraid of the answer. I don't 
know how, but it seemed as if 
my six year old daughter was 
always braver than me. 
     "Nothing baby. It's okay 
now. Daddy just got a little, 
umm, upset," I said grabbing 
her hands. 
     "Come on Mama, let's go," 
she stood, pulling me up by the 
wrists. I stood, acknowledging 
her suggestion.  She lead me 
out of her room and down the 
hallway. She stopped at the 
door to my room, calm as can 
be. "Daddy? Come on now. I 
know you're mad, you come 
out here and you two make 
up," she ordered knocking on 
the door. We stood there in 
silence, no response. I began to 
weep. She was unaware of 
what had happened just down 
the stairs. "Daddy, I'm coming 
in now," she turned the knob 
and pushed the door open. She 
walked in to see the empty 
space. "Mommy, where's 
daddy?" her eyes began to 
swell with tears. 

* * * *

Details | Maddie Knickel Poem

Book 2

I yearned to cry, but tears 
never came.  I pressed the 
back of my hand to my upper 
lip to find blood tricking out of 
my nose. I looked over my 
body, examining all my new 
injuries. I had bruises all up my 
calves and a huge bruise on my 
thigh from his bulky boots. My 
wrist was sore, but I don't think 
it was broken.  My entire 
abdomen was a mix of purple 
and yellow and the scratch 
down my back was at least a 
foot and a half long. I felt my 
cheek; it was still warm from 
his forceful blows. It had been 
worse than this before. 
     I stumbled to the kitchen 
holding my nose shut. I turned 
the faucet on and a pumping 
noise emitted from under the 
sink, but water never spilt out 
of the rusted spout. (Damn, the 
water bill.) We barely had 
enough money for the milk and 
ramen noodles stocked in our 
fridge.
     I grabbed the damp rag that 
laid on the counter and brought 
it to my nose. It reeked of 
mildew so strongly that I had to 
hold my breath as I wiped my 
lip. I drew the blinds and the 
room was engulfed by 
darkness. I sunk down into a 
chair at the kitchen table. I 
cupped my hands and covered 
my face.