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Best Poems Written by Jeannie Cronin

Below are the all-time best Jeannie Cronin poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Pompous Pied Piper

Like the pompous pied piper leading the way,
chirping his tune of a dawning new day,
frustrations were championed, oh how we followed,
the ego stuffed shirt of a suit cold and hollow.

From the top of the hill, he showed us the view,
convincing our eyes it was harshly askew.
Nearing the cliffs as if caught in a spell,
he fed us like lambs from his poisonous well.

Touting sweet taste of his truth well embittered,
ignoring the signs of nonsensical twitter,
rot with the smell of the nations decay,
we drank from his cup of a water so gray.

Watching and waiting for gifts of his gruel,
the masses assured we were not made a fool,
his promise of greatness was all we could see,
with great expectations of how it would be.

There's no turning back once we swore the man in, 
believing bright futures were soon to begin,
blinding frustration gave evil its day
for the pompous pied piper to lead us astray.

He led us to thinking, all driven by fear, 
then gave his directives so cryptically clear,
stripping the values by which we would stand
before the American dream had been banned.

Addicted to all the attention and glory, 
swiftly he moved to remain the top story,
insisting on walls made of concrete and steel
built by the anger and hate we should feel.

Then some were shaken, disrupting his spell
and found he was stealing our Liberty Bell.
The fog began lifting and soon we would see
the piper exposed as the fraud he would be.

               Time has a way, proven over again, 
                   of playing its imminent part.
        The shedding of light upon every mans soul, 
                exposing his darkness of heart.

No longer seduced by the piping we hear, 
choosing to see through the veil,
Democracy once again fights to survive,
let us all pray we prevail!

                              -Jeannie Cronin

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Long Lost Love

Long Lost Love

Mine was the kiss you so used to miss, when I was just gone for the day.
Now I'm always here and ever so near, you couldn't be further away.

Mine were the eyes to reflect sunny skies, our future so bright, warm and clear.
Through torrents of tears and fighting my fears, I watched our blue sky disappear.

Mine was the voice you picked as your choice for every "I Love You" you heard.
Though it's still said every night before bed, my tone says I mean not a word.

Mine was the smile that lasted a while just hearing you call out my name. 
Now when you call I feel nothing at all and I wonder if you feel the same.

Wanting to die as I'm living this lie and wading through rivers of tears,
mine is the heart that's been torn all apart, our love has been lost now for years.

                   -Jeannie Minor

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Star Light

Imagine the light
from the stars that we see
were merely a glimpse
of what heaven will be.
The tiniest windows 
of light we are shown,
drawing our eyes 
to the place we call home.

Picture a vision
of perfect white light,
no sun for the day
or moon of the night.
Just cascades of light
of none you have known,
in heavenly form
only souls can be shown.

The glory of God
so great and immense,
the stars are like pin holes
for light so intense.
They glisten and sparkle,
like beacons we're drawn,
piercing the skies
through the nights darkest dawn.

With only the faith
of a mustard size seed
we’ve claim to His Son's saving grace,
when blackness of night 
shrouds the light of the day
and faith's left with fear in its place.

Over glorious triumph
of darkest despair
His mighty hand scattered night skies
with glimpses of heaven
that we call the stars,
our windows of mustard seed size.

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Here's To the Poets

Here's To The Poets

With so many people confounded by words,
unable to say what they need to be heard,
our music is first in the last of our means
we use to convey how to say what we mean.

With genres and styles unique as us all,
our flavor and taste feeds the soul, should it call,
soothing the beast that's found trapped in it's cage
by expressing the feelings left lost in its rage.

In our happiest times or a moment of cross,
in sadness or joy, finding love, or it's loss,
the poetic words speak to serve our desire
to share in a moment consumed in its fire.

For those of us challenged, in whole to impart,
needing more than our own word to speak from the heart,
here's to the poets and writers of song,
whom find ways with their words to say all that we long.

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Far Away Friends

I have a new far away friend
I wish could live just round the bend
who's poems I find
so pleasant and kind 
there aren't enough flowers to send

With the pen of a poet you write
as a message of hope in our plight 
with beauty and grace 
a gently left trace
to challenge a deeper insight 

I imagine the way you would look
see you happiest writing a book 
poetic rhymes 
of places and times
and all of life's lessons you took

Our souls have been fed by a fire 
and we share in a common desire
to have a true friend
for the ride to the end
of our goals as they raise ever higher

Though all I can see is your name
I still hear your voice just the same 
it speaks to me dearly 
and calls to me clearly 
through poetry destined for fame

I'm blessed for my far away friend
who will never live just round the bend
for I see a smile 
with poetic style
in each posted poem you send

In the world of the mountains you climb
thank you for taking the time
to lift up my soul
with renewed sense of whole
from your words that so cleverly rhyme

Thank you my friends.

                       -Jeannie Minor

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Perfect Kiss

Of all our synchronicity,
a perfect pair implicitly, 
the one thing that I dearly miss?
The perfect way we used to kiss.

Kissing you was like a dance,
full of wonder and romance.
Always sure to light a fire,
kindled flames of our desire.

Always, to you, I'd relent.
Such a gift is heaven sent.
My wish, if only one, then this,
let it be a perfect kiss.

A dance like Cinderella's ball,
caught in a moment, consuming of all. 
Gliding so perfectly, right from the touch.
Fantasy moments of daydreams and such.

Age and time have changed our ways
but I'll always have yesterdays.
Days I still so deeply miss,
when you gave me that perfect kiss.

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

A Father's Love

A Father's Love 


When the ones 
we've loved are lost,
It's from the heart
we bear the cost.
Memories pull 
an emotional trigger
and the emptiness seems
to grow silently bigger.

The void that's created
seems void of a cure,
that's how we know
the love was so pure.
Something so perfect 
must come from above,
heaven sent,
through our Father's love.

The warmth of his hugs,
the laughter and tears,
the times when we tested
and wrestled his fears.
All of these things 
are kept deep in our hearts,
memories cherished 
from never we'll part.

The grief does relent
and will slowly give way,
to smiles and gladness 
and less painful days.
We come to the place,
as most people do,
when you realize life 
isn't all about you.

The things that he taught us
and showed us with love,
truly were gifts 
from the good Lord above.
This God given task
was another's to do,
someone taught him,
so he could teach you.

Through time we will honor
the gifts that he gave,
after the mourning
with memories we save.
Becoming the teachers
and passing the torch,
with stories to children
in swings on a porch.

A lifetime is short
no matter the years,
we all learn to wade
through our rivers of tears.
The days of a lifetime
are moments away,
from the memories of loved ones
with grievance to pay.

The strength of our love
digs the depth of our pain,
just as a rainbow
depends on the rain.
May we all
be so blessed
by our Father above,
with fathers to show us
how deeply to love.

                    -Jeannie Minor

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

Snowman

I saw the cutest snowman
with his happy icy heart
perfectly fat 
and tipping his hat
with one candles light to impart

No question his hat was of magic
and the fur of his trimmed coat was fine
but the smile he wore 
you can’t help but adore
and the art of the moment refined

Kinkade was always a favorite 
being known as the painter of light
so the art on his coat
and the scarf round his throat 
were truly a beautiful sight

Then I saw it was a series
and plays 8 different Christmas songs
I thought this is the one
where I’d say I’d begun
to really let go of the wrongs 

For me he’ll be hopes for the future 
instead of warm memories of old
my memories of that
have deflated to flat
most are just frigid and cold

But just like this icy snowman
adorned in his beautiful art
I think that it’s time 
for this cold heart of mine
to make a more meaningful start

I feel just like this snowman
to say as much is true
so I’m going to start 
to wear my art
and proudly show it to you

I’ll still be cold and frigid 
since I’m only made of snow
but my art is the part 
of my icy cold heart
that sometimes makes me glow

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

True Friends

True friends are like a special seed 
that's someday dest to die,
to realize the treasured value
hidden deep inside.

Springing forth a new life
made of memories so dear,
they're locked inside a sacred heart
and kept forever near.

Each memory a flower
so beautifully in bloom,
its fragrance lingers sweetly
in the stillness of its tomb.

Beckoning in silence
every chance to sooth the soul,
with salve that heals a gaping wound
in time, to make it whole.

The flowers slowly vine themselves
through hallways of the heart,
winding through each chamber 
filling every single part.

Guiding us to all the things
a true friendship should be,
in reminiscent echoes 
of the way it used to be.

Blessed am I for having found
a precious seed as such.
No truer friend have I than you,
I love you oh so much.

One day the time will come
for me to lay my seed to ground
and pray it's healing flowers
in my heart will soon be found.

                   - Jeannie Minor
                     January 2, 2016

Details | Jeannie Cronin Poem

What Becomes of Me- a Tribute To Silent One

The day your pen becomes your past
laid to rest and held its last
shall mark the day my heart is sure
of Silent ache to then endure

The memory of every stroke
echoed in the lines you wrote
engraved remains our history 
our life, our love, our legacy

What, you ask, becomes of me?
Of all the love that came to be?
Every word you ever wrote
kept still within my heart of hope

Hope for all the world to know
the depth of love your pen would show
Poetic words you left behind
to guide the hearts of all mankind

                               -Jeannie Minor

Written in response to the beautifully poetic 
words of "Ink Bleeds Only For You" by Silent One