Home » Poems » Best » Paul Schneiter » Best Paul Schneiter Poems

Best Poems Written by Paul Schneiter

Below are the all-time best Paul Schneiter poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Asperger's Child

Some say you're not quite whole,
But I know better, Angel Child.
You live in a place all your own,
Free, unhinged, sometimes wild.

In precious moments you let me in
And I am stunned by what I see.
Purple trees and butterfly bees
And things I thought couldn't be.

You tell me of other wonders
In a voice so sweet I nearly weep—
Of Daisy Lou, a lizard that's blue,
And of mice that sing you to sleep.

Then abruptly your voice changes
And your look seems far away.
I have become a stranger to you;
You have said all you want to say.

I understand the pattern too well;
You have gone where I can't go.
You dwell there often, Angel Child,
It's where you're wholly whole.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Class Reunion

Fifty-year class reunions are stricken with sadness:
Former classmates falling apart before my eyes.
Jane uses a walker, and Stan exhibits madness.
Wages of age foreshadow classmates’ demise.

In youth’s green age I could not fathom this,
A time when peers would be withered and worn.
How I wonder could life have gone so amiss?
Surveying the scene, my heart is heavy, torn.

I give proud thanks that I’m not like the others,
Having been spared of time’s toxic touches.
“But what has befallen my sisters and brothers?”
I ponder the question as I reach for my crutches.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Autumn

A clinging coolness in the morning air
Makes boyhood autumns live once more—
Blue-ribbon produce at the county fair,
Father trimming a newly sticking  door.

Walking to school on frost-crusted leaves,
I worry about what awaits me in fifth grade.
Water dripping from icicles hanging on eaves
Temporarily distracts me from being afraid.

I develop a crush on my teacher, Miss Hales.
She stirs something mysterious inside me.
It’s clear in this season I will face new trails,
Including the allurement of a grown-up she.

Peers make light of the patches on my coat
Lovingly stitched by my Mother one night.
I find it unseemly they are wont to gloat,
But they are unaware of my family’s plight.

Radio was the rage during my tender years.
I ran home after school to hear more and more
Spoken by heroes who vanquished all fears.
While real heroes were dying in the gore of war.

Autumn’s advent brings a flurry of emotions.
They happen like snowfall year after year.
I smile at them now, noting boyish notions,
But morning air leads me to hold them dear.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Blues News

There was a miserable husband of McNigh
Who had a tendency to frequently cry.
His wife filed for divorce
Causing him no remorse.
Now he’s happy as a drunk drinking rye.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Checked Out

There was a lady stock broker
who used clients' funds for poker.
One customer got wise
and to the lady's surprise.
Saw fit to up and croaker.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Tell Me

Can it truly be
That the existence of you and me
Will be as if it never were
With no him and with no her?

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That the formation of a family
Will be a thing of naught,
An entity that time forgot?

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That our sacrifices to live free
Will count for little worthwhile,
Except for pimps primping in their guile.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That universes without end
Are the happenstances of luck and chance
An invitation to join a celestial dance.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That Mother’s scored back and hands
Were hardly signs of ceaseless labor
Only barely more than rendering us a favor.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That the growing number of empty chairs
Symbolize nothing that need give pause,
Many of their occupants were rife with flaws.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That when dreamless sleep owns mine and me
The toil and the striving and the loving we knew
Won’t matter as much as a robin’s fall call
Mind not that in earnest we gave life our all.

Tell me.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Isn'T There Someone

There is an ache, a hurt that makes no list.
Its name isn’t cancer or heart, but loneliness.
Its victims are usually old, but may be young.
They wait for a call or visit that doesn’t come.

The elderly may sense that having been used
It is time for them to be aloofly excused.
They labored for others they hardly knew
Only to be discarded with lives near through.

Chances are there’s a widow on your block
Who stares out a window at an empty walk.
A wave from a passerby would light her face
And restore fading faith in the human race.

Why do we make time for trifles of naught,
Isn’t there someone whom we have forgot?
Abandon for moments life’s wearying ways,
And show love to the lonely all of your days.

Discordant voices will promptly claim doubt.
“It’s a new day!” they will harshly cry out.
But the truth of the matter is this reality:
To live life richly requires a loving mentality.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

The Wonder of You

At first I thought you were just being nice
To make a good impression on a first date.
"Her true self needs time to break the ice,"
I thought as we talked until it was late.

I saw you again, but you were still the same—
Uncommonly gracious, loving, kindly spoken.
"She’s not being real, playing the same game."
I was quite certain I was seeing only a token. 

But additional encounters proved me wrong.
You were as fetching and fabulous as before.
"This lady is a treasure; she sings a true song."
Hence, fond feelings for you I couldn’t ignore.

I worried if I were worthy to seek your hand.
You had character smiles out of my reach.
"Face it, fool, for you she’s simply too grand."
I saw myself as a crabapple, you as a peach.

But there came a day when I had to do it
Lest another suitor claim you as his bride.
"Have I the courage, the charm and the wit?" 
Perhaps not, but I must know that I tried.

Decades have passed with you as my Sweet.
It may seem impossible, but I pledge it’s true.
"She continues to take me off my feet."
And that, my love, is the wonder of you.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

Hindsight

Hank was a maker of stilts
and sold stunning quilts.
Trade was a success
but caused folks duress
when workers on stilts wore kilts.

Details | Paul Schneiter Poem

First Sight

When our eyes met, I knew
and so did you.
Our years of longing, waiting
were through.

In the flicker of a blink
I was at your side.
A longer look into your eyes
truth we couldn’t hide.

No words escaped our lips.
I simply took your hand
in the firmest of grips
and two were one unplanned.