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Best Poems Written by Mike Jones

Below are the all-time best Mike Jones poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Mike Jones Poem

Wasted Years

I've heard there are two paths you can go by,
I've read I ought to take the path less traveled;
I've made my own path despite,
Ever having given either path a gamble.

Lost traversing aimlessly through,
The lush spring prairies full of life;
I seem to unknowingly choose,
Desolate vast tundras of ice.

A colorless empty wasteland,
Slows down my once wondrous journey;
Turning my hue-less eyes face down,
Numbing the thoughts that concern me.

Selfishly I ponder on,
Giving myself a gander;
My lucid daydreams carry-on,
Struggling to turn my criticism to banter.

With no longing for a sunrise,
No interest in howling at the moon;
Only now in sunset skies,
I can feed my empty tomb.

I have known that for survival,
Trapped within this frigid glacial world;
Atonement flourished revival,
Sent within a single warm word.

Precipitous licking fire,
It's flares echo from up above;
Precipitates the muck and mire,
To precipitation of love.

Still off in the foggy distance,
I can faintly hear the tone;
Beckoning to my existence,
For my soul for whom the bell tolls.

My tortured weary body aches,
While my minds bright embers aglow;
The songbirds of sorrow awaits,
Reaping dark empty seeds I sow.

Devaluating precious time,
And prioritizing my pain;
Has left self-loathing in my prime,
With a pessimistic disdain.

Perhaps time isn't as real,
As understands our mind's perception;
It must just be the moments we feel,
More like a figment for recollection.

As the white sands of time flow through the glass,
I helplessly watch their numbers diminish;
With every grain another lapse,
With every moment that goes till it's finished.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

A Rose To a Weed

What is a rose to a weed,
The latter we fight,
The other we feed,
One grows in spite,
It takes over with greed,
What is a rose to a weed.

When will a rose use it's thorns,
We cut them for love,
They are picked as we mourn,
For those we think of,
For those we adorn,
When will a rose use it's thorns.

Can a weed be a flower in bloom,
They grow in the wild,
With petals which loom,
Admired by a child,
Like wild flowers assumed,
Can a weed be a flower in bloom.

Why is perceived beauty admired,
A rat and a rabbit,
Not equally desired,
Caterpillars are maggots,
Presuppositions are liars,
Why is perceived beauty admired.

So now, what is a rose to a weed,
Can't a weed be a flower in bloom,
When will a rose use it's thorns,
I ponder such queries till expired,
Such as, perceived beauty admired.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

Little Bo Black Sheep

"Let us talk alone for our morning meal. I'm not so BahhhD really. We are not the same you and I. We have a commonness between us. Which makes us seem familiar. Are we all sheep like they say we are? If you are so unique, then why do you follow the herd? Are we all the same? Why do you believe in liars? You are all sheep. Your shepherd leads you to the slaughter while protecting you from the wolves."

"Bahhhh Bahhhh Bahhhh"

Mary had a little lamb,
Little Bo Peep lost them,
Call me a Black Sheep, I am,
Thinking out of the box may cost them.

Rolling on the floor laughing,
Laughing out loud,
Why am I standing here gaffing,
I must catch back up to the crowd.

I remember one that seemed tasty,
I think I'll have it for lunch,
A Black Sheep with fangs may appear crazy,
I'm merely a wolf in sheep's clothing  on the hunt!

Details | Mike Jones Poem

Dead Flowers

Your beauty's now fading dark in a cave,
Decaying are the flowers in your vase;
So I have placed new roses by your grave.

Memories wash over wave after wave,
I left you encased in satin and lace;
Your beauty's now fading dark in a cave.

My soul has lost what I hoped it could save,
Inanimate tokens have filled your place;
So I have placed new roses by your grave.  

My heart gave to you all it could have gave,
Your life resembled perfection and grace;
Your beauty's now fading dark in a cave.

I willingly let love trap and enslave,
Want not freedom from the bondage, in case;
So I have placed new roses by your grave.

Metaphorically these flowers they've, 
Resembled your soft body and warm face;
Your beauty's now fading dark in a cave,
So I have placed new roses by your grave.

Written June 23rd 2016
For the Contest- Villanelle me a Flower or Flowers

Details | Mike Jones Poem

Butterflies

Butterflies dance beneath my toes,
My heart beats faster as I take you close,
I feel so numb and weak, 
That I cannot speak,

Lost in a maze,
For days in your embrace,
I touch your thighs,
I close my eyes,

Our souls do the all the moving,
Everlasting is the fuel that our love is consuming,
The night grew late,
So I'll have to wait,

Because surely I must leave,
And my lust for your love will turn to grief,
Until in your eyes I see,
The butterflies that began to rise that you used to set me free.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

Missing You

I'm alone as I lay missing you,
Weary is my heart while burning in pain;
For my love shall remain here for you.

When dawn breaks my broken heart heals anew,
Nightfall draws closer while my heart cries in vain;
I'm alone as I lay missing you.

My soul feels helpless but remains for you true,
Your memory compels me while my happiness wanes;
For my love shall remain here for you. 

Perhaps the devil is collecting his due,
Hopelessly forcing my feelings in chains;
I'm alone as I lay missing you.

Whilst my feeling for your touch in lieu,
Sorrow hath covered my heart causing stains;
For my love shall remain here for you.

If only these moments subsided to few,
The sensation of bereavement refrained;
I'm alone as I lay missing you,
For my love shall remain here for you.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

A Frozen Mire

My tortured weary body aches,
While my minds bright embers aglow,
The songbirds of sorrow awaits,
Reaping dark empty seeds I sow.

Lost traversing aimlessly through,
The lush spring prairies full of life,
I seem to unknowingly choose,
Desolate vast tundras of ice.

A colorless empty wasteland,
Slows down my once wondrous journey,
Turning my hueless eyes face down,
Numbing the thoughts that concern me.

Devaluating precious time,
And prioritizing my pain,
Has left self-loathing in my prime,
With a pessimistic disdain.

I have known that for survival,
Trapped within this frigid glacial world,
Atonement flourished revival,
Sent within a single warm word.

Precipitous licking fire,
It's flares echo from up above,
Precipitates the muck and mire,
To precipitation of love.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

Lesson

Never dwell on your past,
Nor put the future last,
For the present dictates,
That time never waits,
And you never can feel love too fast.

Rush not through your life,
Lost in bustle and hype,
Just let yourself stop,
You'll find that it's not,
Worth all the long sleepless nights.

Life holds its lessons,
Peace and transgressions,
The sun shines each day,
Let light find a way,
In darkness start counting your blessings.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

In Vain

Wasn't I crazy,
Or was I mad,
To yearn for love,
That could be had.

Wasn't I reckless,
To believe that skies,
Would clear once more,
For my weeping eyes.

Isn't it ironic,
That life should remain,
After all that's treasured,
Has ceased in vain.

A melancholy storm,
Constricting love with its noose,
Has left me alone,
In a life so obtuse.

Details | Mike Jones Poem

On Golden Pond

From the time 
I was a little child I began
To discover my feelings 
And then forgot the way
Then I lost who was someone 
I held so close to me
I am now searching 
For what I had before

I can't find 
What I'm looking for 
If what I'm looking for 
Is not meant to be mine
If I find 
What I'm looking for 
Will what I'm looking for 
Be what I need it to be
And be the same 
To keep me sane
Oh be the same 

And it might be 
My only hope
I need my pain to go away

Feelings that cost me 
All that I am

Oh how do I see you 
When will I know you
Oh when will you lead me 
To find my way home

The more that I hunt you 
The more that I run through
The more that these feelings 
Will find who I am

For who I am 
Is what I am 
And doesn't matter 
much to anyone 
To which I call at all

Then in the moment I come to know 
That you have gone nowhere
That I've spent my life hopelessly
Searching for it again

I have been looking 
Wanting that feeling
That hasn't left.