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Best Poems Written by James Nichols

Below are the all-time best James Nichols poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Silently She Weeps

Every day she comes to visit her,
lifts the spoon to her thin lips.
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps.
Life arrested in its waning grip.

Every day she comes with hope
that something in her changes.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps
The memories time rearranges.

Every day she comes and wonders,
will she wake today and speak?
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps
An imprisoned mind in body weak.

Every day she comes and touches
the woman like no other.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps.
Maternal daughter, loving mother.

1/1/2013

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Stardust Artist

Virgin snow sparkles in the darkest hour
as stardust dances with celestial power.
Silently it rains upon mother earth
giving witness to such an idyllic birth. 

A fawn and doe now break the glaze
like tiny spoons upon crème brulees. 
Below Polaris they prance and snort,
for they seem to know the time is short.

For such a night is a rare event,
as blue light above is heaven sent.
Wondrous luminescent tranquility
trumps any earthly poet’s ability.

Now the first rays pierce the frigid night
and Orion’s bow soon fades to light.
White carpet dulls now without the luster
of a nocturnal painter, the starlight duster.

James Nichols 12/29/12

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History Lesson

Crimson mist in the Dallas sky,
a frantic wife's mad dash.
The world watched us as we cried
for hope gone in a flash.

Brilliant poet with timeless verse
and enduring message of peace.
A murderous fan fulfilled his curse.
Does lunacy ever cease?

Perfect day in the city
until the towers fell.
Religious zealots who had no pity.
Their resting place is hell.

So look at history if you can
and learn from such hindsight.
As long as evil has a plan
we must not quit the fight.

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Dad

In all my years I've never seen 
a face so weathered, yet seldom mean.
A semblance of a younger man
of whom I was the biggest fan.

A tired soul in eyes so hollow,
where he went this kid would follow.
Now he's resting more and moving less.
Is this what's left for God to bless?

Disease and age have beat him down,
yet no one ever sees him frown.
Mortal thoughts creep in as days go by.
What's it really like when we die?

But he won't dwell on that, with time so fleeting,
and his mind still sharp, despite the beating.
No he won't complain, why even bother?
My hero is this wonderful father.

Details | James Nichols Poem

Pride Never Dies

Bingo halls and liquor stores,
what's happened to this land?
They call it a reservation,
a word you cannot stand.

The deep gut ache that you feel
as native blood boils deep inside
comes from where spirits roam free
with a fiercely eternal pride.

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Night Flight

Silver dollar orbits full,
illuminates a slumbered trail.
Like tidal rhythms I feel the pull.
Subconsciousness now sets sail.

I'm floating, flying viewing all
as my mind stays on the ground.
And suddenly I'm very small,
no conflict can be found.

The daily worries, stress and fears
seem to vanish with the night.
And loneliness just disappears
in dreams when I take flight.

yet even this nirvana state
finds abrupt dissolution.
Eagerly my mind awaits
it's nocturnal resolution.

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Final Plea

Inspired by the untimely deaths of young people I knew. RIP


In a dream, tonight would be my last

and I demanded to talk to God.

Of all the things I've gotten past,

to go now seemed so odd.

"You've taken all my friends you see

and now you want me, too?

Unlike one who pretends to be

I've always honored you."

Those sinners who outlive me still,

all I have to ask is how?

It mad me question His very will.

Why take a good man now?

But God just sat and let me rave

on and on about my worth

and why I didn't need a grave,

but rather eternity here on earth.

Pride let my voice be rather loud.

He never said a word.

I told of deeds that made me proud

and good things that I'd heard.

And when I tired He simply said,

"No doubt your life's been good.

But many younger are now dead

and their legacy simply would

be the song that is never sung,

no children call them dad.

for they came to me so very young

and left the world confused and sad.

Yet now your time has come as well

and selfish thoughts are all I hear?

Your life was full and I can tell

it's really death you fear.

Just remember that you have no choice,

for you all will one day die.

Be strong and with a humble voice

tell loved ones they can cry."

And in that moment I knew a peace,

and I felt a tear well up inside.

That most feared was now the least

as my selfish motives died.

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Past Time

I am ten and crossing home.
Two players missed it, as it rolls on and on.
An error if you're scoring the play,
but I call it a home run on my first day.
I am ten, and I have found my first love
in a tattered ball, and a hand-me-down glove.

I am twenty, and I am throwing hard.
Beading sweat, please stay in the yard!
Each pitch thrown with a hope and a prayer.
Scholarship athletes can't be only fair.
Medical school looms larger than the Show.
A privilege for few, but I don't want to go.

I am thirty and I cannot put it down.
Sundays the old men come around.
Love of the game a common bond.
The bat is no longer a magic wand.
Reminiscing about those bygone days.
I can no longer beat out those close plays.

I am forty, and I watch with delight.
My own boys throwing with all their might.
A lump in my throat, a moist eye.
I contentedly look on and sigh.
I've passed down the love to the next generation,
and I wouldn't trade that for a standing ovation.

Details | James Nichols Poem

Bon Voyage

tattered, yellow napkin
softly settles into the murky lake
as it absorbs it's last spill
our names in gold, still legible

this ring, never fit, seldom worn
"I love you" etched innermost
I know you do, I just couldn't say it much
now I can, but you don't hear

it's cold out, especially on the water
our favorite time, autumn's change upon us
our old craft, tattered sail I told you I'd fix
before your birthday that never came

now why bother, It's the final voyage
a muted splash as the ring follows
and I sit, shivering silently in the blue dusk
the cold urn between my knees

now raised, and poured
a cloud of dust, your earthly remnants
ashes to ashes to water to earth
our dreams unlived, dissolved like you

in the muddy waters we once loved
nothing left for me: no us, no time
I follow your lead, but not softly, not muted
a last gulp and it's really not bad

Sinking, thinking, wishing
watching our boat bobbing beneath
silence is screaming, I gasp
I'm warmed as I see your smile.

Details | James Nichols Poem

Complacent Conformity

Hollow hearts and empty minds
frozen as we turn.
Terror lies in what one finds
if he dare attempts to learn.
 
Another road is often best,
though traversed the very least.
And the tide of ignorance never crests,
but thrives on knowledge ceased.
 
To a rocky death with the herd,
you'll succumb to the insanity.
Just remember now my final word:
surrender destroys humanity.