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Best Poems Written by Mary Helmic

Below are the all-time best Mary Helmic poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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In My Father's Garden

in my father's garden
silver moonlight illuminated foliage and earth
a young girl could feel safe there
safe in the cool mist of the night air
away from the heat and noise of a crowded household
in the garden were freshness, coolness
and spirits to converse with
shadows and dark places beckoned stay
its very soil vibrant with energy
pulsating through sprawling vines
sustaining tall shafts of vegetable life
surrounded by benign strength
protected from intrusion
a young girl could lose herself
then, reeling from its beauty
return to the chaos
carrying in her tender ear
whispers of moonlit mystery

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On the Beach

we live such fragile lives
subject to earth, wind, water, fire
alive in a universe we barely understand
despite all our probative energy
attempting to stay the hand of death
one more hour, one more day
warding off its perceived finality
a woman once dreamed of an airplane crash
jet fuel and blood streaking her face
like drops of rain
bodies falling through the sky
horrified, she watched as they hit the ground
only to become new life forms
a contiguous existence, death passing into life
as gracefully as a blossom
falls to the earth
this image a stark contrast
to the decimation we experience
our terrified response to earthquake and flood
we base our security on
transient forms and beings
human flesh and personality, a beloved pet
structures composed of concrete, wood, metal
this is my daughter, my dog, my partner
this is my house, my office, my car
when natural phenomena
disrupt our carefully constructed lives
we are shocked, grief-stricken
appalled at the universe
for dealing such a blow
indignant at God's apathy
and in our blindness, fail to witness
death's genesis

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Dragonfly

hush, do not speak one word
or whisper its name
for it will flee on the wind
as fleeting things do
welcome its presence
with silent expectation
then claim your reward:
a glimpse of iridescent shimmer
on the wing

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Manifesto

at whatever age you find your voice
guard it
or they will pry it from your throat
silence your truth
mutilate your self-worth
barricade your life against such violence
arm yourself with nuclear verbs
and whatever you do
don't stop talking

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Cut To the Bone

no harm was intended
but great harm was done
fear informs her actions
on a daily basis
and from the bloodless wound
seeps the essence
of who she might have been

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Credo

Spirit will not be thwarted
it will move through even these circumstances
to call forth the truth
to bring about a healing that leads to wholeness
we are not alone
abandoned to darkness and confusion
but in our struggle with daily circumstance
grasp the essence of Source
and uncover our own tenacious hold on life

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Adoration

wordlessly the gift is given
proffered by an upturned face
silent recognition as the eyes embrace
of intimate connection
an acknowledgment of grace
which brought two lives together
at this time and in this place

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Breaking Up

we could trade tit-for-tat, hurt for hurt
keep fueling the anger flame
or look in our own cracked mirrors
note the middle-age faces
and recognize that by blending our lives
we brought a lot of troubled history together
mercy, forgiveness, grace
ultimately love
is the only memory 
worth keeping

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To An Inebriant

I cannot be caretaker to you
self-medicated, altering perceptive fields by choice
seeking to numb the pain, escape mundane routine
circumvent natural boredom that could instruct
straight life is as subtle
as a babe moving its lips while sleeping
or as blatant as a car accident
somewhere along the line
you learned alcohol makes it better
conditioned yourself to raise the glass
swallow hard, empty one can and reach for another
go for the gusto pound 'em down order another round
bar talk eases the anxiety
you hang back, play it cool
offer a guy a quarter for a cigarette
so he'll give it to you for free
feel superior to the other glazed-eyed patrons
think yourself the better fool
I look in your face and wonder
why you dabble in the stench of stale beer and vomit
the confusion of blackouts and hangovers
risking another incarceration
when life offers pink rose buds, apple strudel, and the smell of rain
when your family's at home
waiting for the sound of you at the door
and when solitude feeds the soul
more truly than Budweiser ever could
I have not walked your path
I know little of its ways except through
vicarious observation, countless morning after confessionals
pledges and promises of change
if it yields more reward than sobriety
then you have chosen well
if not, you have chosen
your own blurred vision of hell

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You'Ve Got the Wrong Apartment

the person you're looking for
moved out some time ago
can't say just when
said she'd picked herself up off the floor
once too often
just walked out, left the door open
so I moved in
threw out what was in the fridge
scrubbed the marks off the walls
you know, tidied-up a bit
been here ever since
don't have any forwarding address
she may be hiking cross-country for all I know
guess she was ready to move on and did
probably never looked back
now, if you'll step away from the door
I've got to go myself
good luck finding her, and if you do
tell her thanks for letting me move in