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Best Poems Written by Megan Kibler

Below are the all-time best Megan Kibler poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Life Is a Jungle

One person, you think may equal one mind 
but in each personality, there is much more to find.
Homo sapiens and the animal kingdom are separated in ways, 
but are connected secretly, in each soul there is a craze.
The craze of emotions that stampede through your spirit,
your natural being is calling, can’t you hear it?
In each person there is a balance of behavioral traits,
and unto each person some animals relate.
Some may take to the speed of a dragonfly, 
zipping through life with time floating by.
Others may proceed with the spirit of a sloth, plotting along,
as quick as molasses, one who acts prolonged.
Although some may compare to a sturdy draft horse,
trotting along steadily, always sure and acting readily. 
People’s tolerance presents a different view,
for some, patience is the key, but to this others haven’t a clue.
Patience is like a spider, spinning its web, thread by thread,
you become closer to the final goal, positive thoughts keep you ahead.
Others, like young animals, want to speed ahead of time,
stopping at nothing, but ending up in a bind.
However, if you learn well from your kind, whether amphibian or mammal, 
your level of patience could be the size of a hump on a camel. 
All have characteristics that can never be taken away, 
like a slug they will stick and stay. 
Some are wise, enigmatic at heart,
like panthers and leopards, for a start.
Lions stand for the brave and proud,
while the loyal dog kowtows to the crowd.  
We all experience different feelings throughout the day,
as we morph into different forms, in every way.
Sometimes we feel like a chameleon, blending into the crowd,
not wanting to be seen, feeling frightened and un-proud. 
Other times we seem to be a minnow in a sea of bass, 
how can you be unique, with an ordinary reputation as solid as brass?
Then there are moments of joy and bliss, 
like a soaring eagle you shall prey over this.  
Sometimes you may feel like a worm, wriggling blindly through life,
as you remain unfeeling to any emotion, joy or strife.
Each moment in this world, people are changing, 
their emotions forever rearranging.  
The untamable animal within their hearts, 
comes out and reflects their personality on each and everyone, like directed darts.
The question is “what animal shall you become?” every moment each day,
but the eternal instincts inside of you shall know the true way.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Alexander the Great

O what a man, so bold and brave,
Could do, his mighty hand could save.

This noble warrior was a relative of Zeus himself
Or so they say
His kingly proise remains today,
A standard figure of Persian frays.

Lightning crashed and thunder rumbled,
Signifying that this man would become well-known, 
Not one to be humbled.

He was said to have tamed a wild horse,
By the fullness of his brain, of course.

His athletic records, no one could break,
For they remained for his pride's sake.  

He became a briliant man, built like a tower of steel
That  led some to believe he was unreal.

One every man would have yearned to become, 
His power, his splendor, an unbeatable contendor!

Until only by a fatal error, his well of talents stopped flowing
For once in his life.
No one could save him from this horrendous plight.

The face of death reared its grotesque head,
And only to the path of enternal stillness it lead.

However, his name, emblazened by his noble deeds, very old,
Will retain its place in history in its priceless weight of gold.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Goddess In Training

I wade into the water that is my aquatic sun,
suited to perform miracles, refusing reprieve until work is done. 
I exist as a modern day Hercules, striving to discover my strength,
seeking beneath the surface, striving to greater lengths.
My arms tremor, causing ships to break apart, 
during my exhale, all sailors start 
to curse…
yet my grunt of thunder remains the worst.  
My legs propel me forward, though possessing not one gill,
the underwater highway provides an ongoing thrill.  
Mere mortals I glimpse at while stifling tidal waves, 
 as they struggle against the current, candidates to save.
 Their bodies act as limp seaweed, very weak
while others remain bloated buoys, struggling to seek 
a sliver of stamina, however slight, 
their sun is not yet lit, they remain in a moonless night. 
My ears discover the sirens, bursting into song-
they talk of candy sweets my appetite yeans to sail along. 
However, my orb of strength is not yet found, 
until then, I’m forbidden to go above ground. 
Below in the underworld, Hades attempts to send
fingers of flame upon me, yet my armor shall not bend.
My joints ache,
my muscles quake, 
yet the ember of faith I shall not forsake.  
Eventually, I remain erect, not on bowed knees, 
and have resisted pain’s pitiful pleas.
A son of Zeus reaches in to grasp my hand,
his grin stretching wider than the holy land.
His eyes are that of a seaweed sage, 
with a chiseled exterior only Aphrodite could have made. 
His words light my face with a single shining ray,
“You’ve completed your pool exercises for the day.
Are you ready for the gym?” he asks, hoping I should stay,
and I reply, “I’m in need of hot compresses today.”
I proceed to immerse myself in towels of steam, 
 while considering my ultimate dream
of strengthening my image, in the future I will see
the bountiful benefits of physical therapy.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

The Day My Ego Collapsed

Ego held me, captivated by his good looks,
a sculpted figure that only comes from princes of story books.
Everyday I'd sit and beseech the knowing, wise eyes
of the future, yearning for him to retrieve me from glancing up at skies
I'd never attempted to reach before,
only absorbing the letters of praise he'd send, longing for more,
to elaborate on my looks, manner, and deeds
into an empty heart these comments were received. 
The days retreated; I yearned to move beyond my stagnant state, 
as others chose to participate 
in a place called Life; I hadn't vacationed there
but chose to wait for Ego, or should I dare
to move beyond where he had instructed...
yet he has warned me of sorrows to come if wishes are conducted.
My mail hadn't arrived for countless days, 
as I grew restless, I began to say,
"Save me from this torture of endless bore-
I wish to go beyond the thought of Life that I've been hoping for."
Into the castle a lady entered, appeared bewitched-
coiled in her fingers were the letters I had missed. 
"It is time," she announced, as her free hand grasped my wrist,
upon her breast 'Reason' was pinned, as we began to twist
away from the shattered remains of my glass castle 
as her hair hung before me, in ebony tassels
until a blinding light pierced my eye, 
I tried to free myself from her, shouting goodbye, 
but tears of relief I began to cry...
there stood my lover, my adored, the prince!
One I'd been waiting for, in times such as this. 
Yet the woman pulled me to the face of chiseled marble, with glee 
my lips commenced to kiss him, yet no kiss returned to me...
his mouth, frigid, like the mute,
as his figure remained resolute.
I caressed the shoulders, yet the were of stone,
created by an artist who I despised to the bone.
Reason paused to hand me the letters; I glanced miserably,
discovering the very words had been penned by me.
 I tackled Ego's chest
as it shattered onto wood crest.
Drowned in tears, I glanced up to find
though my eyes seemed blinded, in a bind...
Reason wasn't alone, I thought it was a pun, 
yet this companion seemed to carry the sun,
reaching down with glowing arms to take me in
and help me soar into horizons of Life, where I'd never been.
Thanks to Reason I'd met Light, seeing through the sin 
of vanity, and infectious pride,
due to the collapse of Ego, I remain an unwed bride
to Love, whom I still haven't met,
yet unto Life I remain a pawn, until the end, I am set.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

An Unlikely Husband

Some say men give you sanctuary 
others deem them sedimentary. 
My cousin claims they’re alive to cheat 
anyone and everyone that they meet. 
Yet some can’t help but fall in love 
saying he was their match; the other glove. 
Some blame the syllables of adoration muttered in their ear
or the TV for unveiling marriage without fear.
Whether men are thought wonderful or wild 
I possess one with a mild 
temper, who’s been with me for fifteen years 
we don’t grasp each other’s hands or even kiss 
believed by some to be a couple’s bliss. 
Yet if sorrow haunts me 
or if tears grace the floor, 
he is forever there to adore. 
Instead, I enjoy stroking his hair,
as we lounge by the fire without a care. 
His interests involve watching birds flutter about 
outside in the lawn, where he’d enjoy getting out.  
I chose him, yet he chose me
sat upon my lap, the rest was history.  
I know upon him my heart is set 
he isn’t employed, but on me he’s spent 
a thousand purrs and mews of hello, 
and unwavering trust enough to know 
that I will always provide for and care 
for my trusted feline companion…
I know he’ll always be there.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Mask

The mirror greets you
a morning view 
of your present canvas to paint upon…
knowing the past night won’t prevent dawn 
as you exist a pawn
of fantasy, in which you are forced to play along, 
your eyes set, and jaw strong.
You begin with veils of blue to immerse your eyes,
even though they’ve realized
the one they gazed at, who basked in his own angelic light,
was the one who began your plight….
the mascara wand is now in hand,
assisting you to bat your eyes at the current land
of heartbreak and woe, 
and yet, forgivingly waterproof, if tears shall flow.
A blush of rouge is applied to your pallid face
yet your mind still dances in times of grace
when your cheeks were warmed by his tender gaze,
instead of being flushed in a rush of rage.
But the finishing touch is yet to be applied,
upon the mask where youth is now a lie. 
A shimmering coat of ruby red 
graces the lips where not a word could be said
to confirm the promise of better times ahead…
except for a kiss, to begin another love, another day,
yet images of him embracing another seem to stay, 
pulling your smile the alternate way.
Keep beaming, beautiful, for your prince will arrive…
when cosmetics seem unnecessary to keep you alive.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Knighted

I kneel on the dusty battlefield,
my eye catches a glint of the tarnished sword.
The glint blinds me, my mind 
fills itself with memories from long before.

I, a young boy, am riding on a youthful pony.
My body trembles with this new wonder,
as the pony’s smooth gait prompts me 
to kick its sides, increasing speed…

Next, I, the adolescent esquire, follow my mentor loyally 
into this new, brutal land 
where bloodshed is common,
beyond the shelter of the castle…the battlefield.  
The sight of men at other’s mercy chills me. 

Arrows pierce the ill willed,
as they fall like salty tears onto
the blood-stained earth. 

Yet I know my duty is to serve another,
older and wiser than I.
This harsh land haunts me as I refill
my mentor’s quiver of arrows
and adjust the gleaming helmet upon his head.  

My visions of the past clear like a herd of untamed horses, 
my eyes beseech my mentor. 
His worn gaze tells of the many battles he has fought, 
but wisdom shines in his eyes.

The sword taps my shoulder, 
like the touch of a seraph of heaven.
He claps my shoulder, 
as if to remind me of the dark times ahead.

“You, young man, are my equal,”
said he, “upon this field your courage 
has proved your worthiness-a noble 
knight you shall be.” 

The coward in my heart screams for redemption,
yet this new being-the knight-in my spirit
raises me to my feet 
and takes me back to the castle, where
good times-along with brutal-await.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Stranger In My Mind

A warm smile used to penetrate my heart
and the touch of hand gave me a welcoming start.
The faint breeze always refreshed me,
and so did the beauty in nature I used to see. 
But the saddest part is when I see you 
my feelings are locked away
and saved for another hundred days.
You offer me the warmth of your soul 
the connection between us used to be my goal.
My neutral state confuses me as well, 
I don’t think of the future, nor on past memories I dwell. 
I wish I could reach out to console 
but my new perception has ultimate control.
To me you’re just a stranger in my mind.  
Our union has been broken,
yet my heart hasn’t spoken.
Not even the lovely words coming from your lips 
mean anything at all, I’m trapped in the darkness of a solar eclipse. 
Try to move the sun or leave me be,
but without light I’ll never see.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Transformation

Transformation


We all begin like a little caterpilar,
lounging on its leafy branch,
who would only care to move at the onset of an avalanche.

Until it embraces a daring feat,
one, we wonder, 
will it complete?

It begins by weaving a simple button of silk, which it supplies
and dangles from it daringly,
as a chrysalis begins to comprise.

A shimmering outer shell consumes the figure,
as time continues on, taking a drawn-out course,
supplying happiness, or remorse.

The caterpillar's creation suddenly cracks.....
we stare intently, taken aback.
For the metamorphosis that had taken place 
had turned the forgotten creature into one of beauty and grace.

Away it soars, into the infinite blue sky,
how did this change transpire, I wonder why?

Humans operate in this same way,
yet our creation remains the same today.

You begin a a caterpillar until struck with a passion and purpose,
a breakthrough,
the unstoppable pleasure enchants you.  

Now you realize this is to be the paved way to a prolonged discovery,
immersed into your own unique chrysalis
and take a long recovery.

In your pleasure-swelling soul,
it soon becomes out of control.
The passion grips the tendrils restraining your heart,
but nothing can keep you and your love apart.

New days dawn, you are prepared,
for your new premiere of talent is about to be shared.

With all the intense power that you possess,
in favor of your interest,
the chrysalis crumbles to the ground.
Your talent has been discovered,
to those that you astound.

Your passion take hold
you travel to great lengths, so bold,
to your highest potential ever felt before.

As your wings rhythmically beat,
the transformation is now complete.

Details | Megan Kibler Poem

Apartment of Addiction

There seems to be silence within the serene night,
 yet those indoors have eternal cries of unspoken fright.
One man drowns in chocolate, shamefully eying his hips,
as the woman next door kisses the hundredth man’s lips. 
Two floors below, one screams out in pain, 
as fatal anger has won the game.
The killer, shadowed, makes no remark, 
but watches the blood flow, immersed in his soul of eternal dark.
Three doors across, an elderly man sits, rejected and broke,
hiding his face with tendrils of smoke. 
His trusty cigarettes always at the ready, 
when his finances where never steady.
Another flight down, a woman drowns in her agony sip by sip,
her life seems to slip by like a commercial blip.
Yet all she can think
is that her marriage is on the brink.
Before she fades into the night of another day,
all she remembers is throwing her wedding ring away.
Traveling down to the ground floor, 
the troubles seem to equal more.
A woman tosses about in her anxious bed, 
while her worries do pirouettes in her head. 
Try to let the past and present go,
but the future looms like a horror show. 
Outside, in the darkness, a piercing light shines 
as a moth flutters by, on the still air it climbs. 
It seems this beacon, as bright as the sun,
new hope has just begun.
The moth bangs itself against the glass,
trying to reach glory at last. 
Yet no matter how much its antennae bend, 
or wings grow fragile and not able to mend,
it seems like the only thing to do
to deal with its feelings, old and new.
Until it steps back and looks at the light 
realizing that harming itself won’t set anything right.
With the last of its strength, ending its plight,
the moth flies off into the night. 
At this moment, the man decides to rid his house of fat-packed glory,
as the woman on the ground floor takes a deep breath, changing her story. 
The killer at large turns himself in,
the end to his years of sin.
The woman pours the bottles of wine down the drain, 
finally she can remember her name. 
The elderly man exhales his last puff of smoke, 
the grueling memories no longer prod and poke.
And the woman kissing her hundredth man
lets him go, heart no longer sinking in deadly quicksand.
The light of dawn finally breaks,
and the darkness of the mind  no longer takes
away from the people’s lives 
as the light of hope is now by their sides.