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Best Poems Written by Tina Thornton

Below are the all-time best Tina Thornton poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Man's Best Friend

Dog
Loving, sweet
Waiting, watching, wondering
So happy you’re home
Friend

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Ronald

Ronald was a young man so bold,
his father McDonald will mold.
He had bright red hair,
and french fries to share,
and that’s how the story was told.

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Bunny

I once had a big fury bunny,
He was sweet and yes, he was funny.
He would hop all day,
and then I would say,
Let’s go to the park where it's sunny.

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Hurricane

Whirling wind twirling.
Whisk away sand, Tree leaves gone.
Hurricane blowing.

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Drip, Drop, Plop

With a Drip, Drop, Plop
The rain will sop
Upon a leaf they land
Then roll onto the sand
Absorbed by the ground
Prepares the next go round
It filters through the rock
All around the clock
The plants will seed
The living it feeds
Then onto the river it runs
Until evaporated by the sun
Into the air it mists
And gathers like a fist
In the shape of a big black cloud
Darkening like a shroud
Then BOOM it will fall
Covering one and all
And again the rain will sop
With a Drip, Drop, Plop

April 13, 2005

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Blue Eyes

Majestic blue eyes,
Sparkles in the mid-day sun,
Persuading me home.

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The Age of Reason

With confusion in the wind
Time comes to an end
Purpose of the strife
Dream’s of a life
No secrets to hide
No more to confide 
Thoughts are insane
Only memories remain
Nothing left to do
Not one thing ensues
God’s gift did cheat
His lamb so sweet
Innocent and dear
It lived in fear
Knows not what for
It never asked for more
While waiting for time
To make sense of the rhyme
Is it the age of reason?
Or just mental treason?

April 4, 2005

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A Mother's Wrath

The wind exhales then breathes in deep
It swallows the leaves as the willow weeps
Swimming in all Her earthly sounds
No longer green, leaves touch the ground
The limbs are never completely bare
Like old man oak is losing hair
Is it summer, fall, winter or spring?
Or maybe a season that lives between?
On the wing of a dove She ruffles a feather
That fluffs the clouds to change the weather
Then puffs grow dark as black as pitch
They bubble and boil then begin to itch
Until the burst that bares the sores
From which you’ll see Her blood, it pours
Crystal clean and clear as glass
A dancing, flowing huge wet mass
Sweeping branches often missed
Blades of grass the dewdrops kiss
The falling source of Nature’s life
Its fresh cool water will wash Her knife
The tool with which She’ll quake the land
Then slide the mountain with Her hand
To scrape away the mud and snow
That Mother laid there, just for show
In a snow-free zones that get much hotter
She’ll kick up the wind and spit the water
She has not a method to freeze them out
So She shows Her strength in a waterspout
Or funnels of sand with winds of fury
It’s Mother’s law there is not jury
So pray to a God, your soul to save
As Nature prepares for a closer shave
By ocean swells or lava that flows
When She strikes whether or not one knows
Mother Nature’s certain, and that’s for sure
For no one is safe, not even the pure.

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Reverie

I’m afraid I can’t see
Past the blindness in me
It covers the hurt most obscurely

Matters not if I try
My sub conscience is sly
And it continues my journey so wry.

If I followed this mind
It would hope to find
Another so great and benign.

But soon I shall see
That the narrative in me
Has thee lost within its own sea.

An ocean of knowledge in kind
Has left me so far behind
So normal thoughts no longer spring to mind.

March 2005

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Denial

My heavenly vision I prayed would last,
Though reality appears in small quick blasts.

Tears now flow in flocks and droves,
This is how the sorrow shows.

Heavy now it weighs within,
With true-life thoughts depressed again.

What happened to my pleasing dream?
One photo viewed forbade it seems.

Smile no more, cheeks wet with tears,
There is another, as I had feared.

I knew before no chance I had,
So why do I now feel so bad.

Cheerful, hopeful, happy and gay,
Please return these feelings I say.

Outsider no matter where I forge,
Might as well rove in a gorge.

Not interesting? Should I accept?
Or believe that it’s my intellect?

Fallen now into deep pell-mell,
Again the tears begin to swell.

Where have I been, where have you gone,
Please return, my dear sweet faun.

While in my mind I live, I must,
It’s the only place I seem to trust.

If there I live not stirring ahead,
The time will make me forlorn and dead.

Face the problem confront it now,
I would, if I could, if I only knew how.