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Best Poems Written by Jason Klaiber

Below are the all-time best Jason Klaiber poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

My Dilemma of Soup, Or No Love For the Crackers

Oh, nicker.  Oh, nacker.
I broke my poor cracker
While putting it in my soup.
I just wanted a nibble,
But the soup had to quibble,
And thus all my plans turned to poop.

So now I'm here sittin'
A poor man quite smitten
With no other crackers to spare,
On soup that's unlawful,
So twisted and awful,
That it kills with no thought and no care. 

Why can't it relate,
And learn not to hate,
My crunchy, crisp wafers of bread,
It would have much more fun
Not to mention for one,
My crackers won't all end up dead.

I suppose it’s too much
To ask soup for such
A commitment to love other food.
But till its attitude mends,
And it learns to make friends,
I believe that my crackers are screwed.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Anthem of a Hollow Man

I, the empty man,
The hollow man,
Exist here in the shadows
Of twilight.  My senses dead,
Burned out of me along with
The tattered, wasted rags 
That were the only remnant
Of my tortured soul.
Like hellfire, the flames
Roared through my Self,
Consuming all there was and
Leaving naught but the acrid
Stench of a being destroyed.
My eyes now stare out from an 
Empty shell that once held so
Much life and promise.
A vessel that once was filled with
Hopes and dreams of happiness.
Those are all gone now, replaced
With a fathomless nothingness.
Black is the void that dwells within
Now. It swallows all light and laughter
And echoes back a harsh mockery of 
Life.  Still the fires smolder, eating away
At the foundation, the supports, moving 
Itself toward total collapse.  When it does,
I will become the nothingness that I 
Contain.  Swallowed by the void, with 
Nothing left but my anguished screams, 
Echoing into oblivion.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Blue Dot

In a field of perfect night,
There is a blue dot.
What is its purpose?
What is the point?
What is it doing here
All on its own?  Is it some
Divine punctuation mark,
Denoting the end of eternity?
Or is it  a concrete representation
Of the oneness of the universe?
What does it mean by its 
Blue silence?  It is a mystery,
This blue dot, out here
In the middle of eternity.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Hymn For the Single Mother

I’ve got kids to wake,
A shower to take,
The clothes to press,
Myself to dress,
Breakfast to make,
And muffins to bake,
And children to take to school.

I’ve got the car to take,
To fix the brake,
The mechanic to pay,
Now I’m starting my day.
I’ve got bread to buy
(Not the wheat, but the rye)
And then go home to clean.

Aching and weary,
I finish my chores.
Except to put the kids to bed
And read them their nightly lore’s.

With the fairies and princes,
How I wish I could be,
By myself, all alone,
Not a care, living free.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

The End

The time will come
When days will end.
All life will cease.
The end of Men.
The earth will die
With no remorse,
As nature takes
Its plotted course.
No children left
To wonder at the sky,
Asking all their questions 
With wondering eyes.
The time will come
When the sun will rise,
Only to be seen
By dead men’s eyes.
No plants to drink
The golden light,
They all will be gone
Struck dead in their plight.
The population will perish,
The world will stop;
All will be gone,
Animal, plant, human, and crop.
The time will come
When all will grow dark,
No sun left
To find the earth as its mark.
Then the wounds are too deep,
Too many to mend.
Time will be over,
The earth is dead.
The end.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Eternity As a Moment

Think, therefore, because
We are, immortal shining
Bright as the sun a million
Times over, relieved in shades 
Of light and dark.  This which we
Seek eludes the touch of 
Understanding and refuses to be
Fathomed, to learn of just how deep 
This thing goes.  ‘To Light’ we cry
In the darkest hours of night 
When the fear settles on us like a pall
And the ancient horrors walk the corridors
Of our minds as we struggle to sleep.
Silence remains forever elusive to even the
Weariest of those courageous enough 
To search the abandoned roads that lead to 
No truth other than: the road goes forever on.
Still, their lives were not in vain, for even 
Though they failed in their quest they found 
Something much more valuable.  Purpose.
A thing for which we are woefully lacking
In our small existence on this hurtling rock.
But in this, discouragement comes swiftly,
Brutalizing the strongest and planting doubt 
That swells to be all consuming.  Let it not 
Inhabit or take up residence, or it will surely 
Destroy.  Search not for the silence, or the purpose,
But only listen.  The clamor is not in the least
Unpleasant.  In time it is the most beautiful 
Music to the lovers’ ears.  It calms with the promise
Of life lived and joy undiscovered.  Peace.  Uncompromised and 
Heavy with distilled hope.  It flows like moonbeams
To melt upon the soul.  In the darkest of night, it comforts, 
And with the light, it binds.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

My Word

If I were a word, 
Then 'peent' it would be.
It's something unique,
Just exactly like me.
With mystery and flow,
Like a forest hid stream,
Like memories unrealized;
Some faraway dream.
Any sentence could fit me,
I'd make stories complete,
My meaning’d be endless,
My harmony sweet.
Yes, if I could pick one word,
That fits only me,
There's only just one word,
And 'peent' it would be.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Writer's Block

I tried to write a poem,
A little while ago,
But I couldn't find the muse,
The words just wouldn't flow.

I started with the standard stuff,
A poem or some prose.
But inspiration left me dry,
The floodgates all were closed.

So next I tried my hand at rhyme,
The nursery kind for tykes.
But all that came was trite and lame,
The kind that no kid likes.

Then after that I tried to pen
A couple lines free-verse,
But that attempt completely failed;
Results were even worse.

Thus, at the frayed end of my rope
I tried just one last time,
A limerick, I thought, was in my grasp;
Alas, it did not rhyme.

So that's the end.  I'll write no more.
My inspiration's flown.
I couldn't write to save my life.
My creative mind is blown.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Journey To the Center of My Mind

You scared me with the owl thing,
I wet myself and cried.
You supported me as Weebleking;
I'm glad you're on my side.

When the English man was in my head,
You did not scream and flee.
You grabbed him by his whiskered lip,
And stayed right here with me.

I told you of the mystery men,
Who always follow me;
You did not scoff and mock my words,
You offered sympathy.

And when I dubbed you Willowart,
You did not blow a fuse;
You took it all in gracious stride,
And proclaimed it happy news.

The kind of friend you've been to me,
I could not hope for more.
You've stuck with me through waves and troughs;
Past every rocky shore.

For years I've never given thanks,
Which was definitely rude.
So here today I send you this,
To show my gratitude!

I hope you've liked the trip so far,
Following my wandering brain,
I'll let you rest here for a bit,
Then off we'll go again.

Details | Jason Klaiber Poem

Synesthesia

I was driving
Bright sunny day
Cool breeze blowing 
Through my hair

I caught a scent
And was immediately
Transported in memories
Back to my childhood

Recall was amazing
Instant daydream
Of all those years ago
Seeing and hearing

Just like I was there
Backyard barbecue
Friends and family
I think I was eight

It was a great day
More fun than I’ve
Had in ages with
People long gone

Woke up from 
My reverie
Feeling the sun
Intense on my arm

How awesome it
Was to be able 
To relive that day
In perfect clarity

All triggered by a
Smell caused from
A source so
Unexpected

Awake I notice
An errant spark
From my cigarette
Has gone astray

In the moments that
Follow I frantically
Try to beat out
My burning coat sleeve