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Best Poems Written by Nathan Reger

Below are the all-time best Nathan Reger poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Nathan Reger Poem

Orange splices of pure fire fall to the cavernous wall as if the world was on its head,
Shadows of friends in greeting prints the rock a far,
I sit in comfort and complete humility by a roaring fire of fraternity.

I ponder my great quest for fire.
A long road remembered,
As barber drips from the pores of my soul chanting a deafening memory of my initiation.

The end is near, the wait is impossible, my stomach churns but I don’t care. I whisper to my earned brother, “where are we?”, “In the middle of no where in a freezing car.” Several hours go by and nay we pledges have much importance. Finally, the sounds of gravel hence at approaching membership. I hold and follow my earned brother along a steep and rocky path. I peer down my nose at my feet, barely staying vertical. I feel a blaze of warmth and hear a hissing crackle as if cast into the inferno of hell and damnation. An eerie silence blanketed by the radiance of Adagio. I feared the unknown and was most untrusting of the “Actives.” Who con and deceive. I trust Nathan and Dustin though, and they would not harm me! My mind never rested, I considered every course of retaliation, every out, every option.

At last I remove my blindfold destination revealed with aww.

Fresh and clear meanings defined.
My ritual, praised by youthful hearts, of Orpheus.

I am proud in brotherhood and understanding. I finally ware my gray hoody with the letters PHI MU ALPHA.

I (and others) have traveled great distances in Phi for One.
This One is but Mu, and can only be found in the leap of Alpha.
The Mu is necessary for Alpha and such a night is latent in all our minds

At nights end we all have replenished our souls with remembrance of fraternal meaning and brotherly spirit.
Raise your prelude to all the brothers, we sing.
A large circle of brothers arm over shoulder singing proud and loud on this cold damp November starry night.
This night is replayed over and over in my mind, reaffirming my commitment too Iota Rho’s long honored traditions. Time is irrelevant though we say its not. Perfection is of no concern, though we heave its importance.
At last the echo carries… SIN..FON..IAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa! At last the traditions are entrusted to the next generation.

Details | Nathan Reger Poem

Internal Dialogue

I don’t care. Judging me a free stooge a jolly me
I don’t care, about what they think or how they see me
I do my part to be myself, I will not break! I will not conform!
I will always speak freely about me. I don’t analyze others possible perceptions of me.
I don’t care
I don’t care...
I do...care
I do care.
This piece, I write because I do care
I care that they don’t like me.
I am nice, as I want to be 
I am annoyed, this inner dialogue is annoying. This is not ideal.

?Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells...(snoring)?

Details | Nathan Reger Poem

Grandmas House

Grandma was there wiping my tears when I scraped my knee
applying the "bubbly stuff" and blowing gently.
She was there tearing off a piece of her helpless aloevera plant to ease the pain of my burns.

A strong survivor with purpose to guide
my sister and I through parents that tried.

Grandma fed us, bathed us, and cleaned up after us selflessly.
A strong fortress, we cling to her truth and honesty.
She planted the seed of faith in our lives
Praying we follow Jesus to see her in the next life.

Grandma’s home is a place to relax and be ourselves
Away from all worries and stress the world brings.
A comforting place full of memories, laughter, and sweet ice tea.

This place on Ligouri is where she
Sprays the dogs with fabreeze
Mops the carpet stain free,
And attempts to give everything away before you leave.

These memories we will cherish when thinking of you.
Your legacy is hearty and your love is true.

Grandma gives everything to Mallory and I, her money, her time, love to no end.

She molds our outlook on life with every objection to not seeing it from the other side.
And always is a rock to lean on when we must sacrifice.

Grandma teaches forgiveness, humility, and selflessness everyday.
Here is 100, 200, 500 dollars she says, no no no you keep it! (with a rush and a smile), I want you to have it!

She has always been there for us emotionally when others turn away
She is my motherly guidance she is my maternal ray.

In grandmas presence at home you want to stay
But life and responsibilities take you away.

Grandma, I want you to know:
That, when I am old and gray my life long lived, a rocking chair, grand kids, puzzles, a book to read I will remember you and pass on these memories to my grand kids so they too will learn from your displays.

And when death comes knocking I hope we meet and hug with sunshine on our backs. You will know its me cause ill come running to climb in your lap.

Details | Nathan Reger Poem

Identity

Closets

All around I am confined
from fetal womb,                                                       “Soft and connected”
through teenage responsibility
adult stress and conformity. 

A drowning wave of fury
I fight to breathe to be                                                   “Louder with spark”
A dark closet of pity 
A stagnate gloom (to find me) to end me.

Impulse to break the chains of bondage
To unmask the inner fight                                             “building”
Untying normality 
for “just out of sight.” 

Rejuvenating my soul in the waters of “out of control”
A treacherous journey of emotion 
Plighted by the rage of “doubt” 
Rationality is a sickness, devouring all thought, 


Plagued with social need
A repulsive weakness for commonalty.
Only attained by ignoring the me!

I pushes me down 
I wont fight
I gives into parallel thought
I seeks conformity
I is my Social Connection
I is completely taught
I is suffocating me 
I wont let up.


Me is lifting my soul
Me is an urgent refusal
Me traffics options 
Me is uncontrolled control.
Me trucks through stop signs
Me fights for right
Me is my souls reflection
Me is worth protecting.  

The I is getting weaker realizing 
The me isn’t meeker
Hugging the-me close tight 
forming the Identity Im. 

Im is struggle
Im wont leave 
Im is (im)pulsive
Im is perceived need.
Im is bland
Im wont take direction

Im is neutral

Im is sad
Im is mad
Im is weak
Im is tired
Im is meek 

This relentless feud.
An Im-pulsive identity.

Details | Nathan Reger Poem

Appreciating the Unappreciated

Slowing my mind to analyze each finger as an individual

My fingers are individual in nature. I see them as unique tools each having a body of character necessary to meet my every whim. 

Left pinky is permanently bent from football and rugby but can perform tricks like bending on its own unattached from the others. It falls asleep often and to much my surprise enjoys it! 

My left ring finger is also sleepy and has a nail that can grow out over night. The only finger with a ring, its heavy and comfortable most times.

My left middle is long and bony. The nail has vertical etches that make it unique and a white cloud that never grows away. 

Left pointer with its necessary manicured nail and strong supportive girth is my favorite, it is my work horse. It carries extra skin around the knuckle that bends awkardly.

The left thumb is nail bitten and ugly. Peeling skin just below the nail and large knuckle that is cracked often hint at my job.  

My other hand is strong and exhausted from nail biting and use. Not flowery, ring bearing mirrors of the left but empty shells of crooked scars and dreary work days. The right hand and fingers are not appreciated.

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Survival

Survival is a progressively efficient viral machine outdoing all competition. 

Survival is an effortless, yet taxing, mediocrity sweetened by gratification.

Today Survival is a swirl of societal expectations, social roles, all learned precepts pressing against a cruel animal-istic cerebral, itching to be free. 

A repetitive monologue of moving forward with an infinite fog of variables that masks survivals purpose, and yet still provides comfort through knowledge-less normality.  

Everything we see survives but, why?

We reach outward for guidance.
We reach inward for peace 
We only know how to survive because we accept what we see
 
For when the last person remembers you, 
You cease to survive. 

By, 

Nathan Reger

Details | Nathan Reger Poem

Kind Words Meant

Kind words meant
Through love spent,
Devotion true,
A fun love brew
Charging ahead in a double bed

A past full of trials
That breeds future miles
We are kids at play
Random, awkward, silly, kids at play 
A world away in a double bed

Comfort setting
Striped blue bedding
Naked sleep with 
Dreams of wedding
Young hearts crest
The youthful nest of 
Guiding hands and a 
Treasure chest

Visiting ma 
Visiting pa
The eye of judgment
Tells all, 
Stop “chewing the chaw”
Start abiding god’s law

With their leaving
We stop deceiving 
Our hedonistic thoughts
In our head are bleeding
Interlocking souls
Reach out for more
And make marry in our double bed

Waking up 
Monday morning
Warm skin touch 
Under blankets molding.

Cold fan spins
Alarm never ends
Weeks work impends.
Arising from our double bed.


Daily routine,
Teeth, coffee, packed lunch 
Good bye sweetie 
With an eager tone said.
Seven kisses in our double bed

Day work is that.
A work to live
A boring job
Pays the bills 
And keeps us fed

Day over 
like a snail
Highway home
On the phone
Catching up 
Arriving too
Drinking shake 
Calling you
Working out
Watch the tele
Waiting for you
Take a pooh.

Make dinner
Watch for you
You arrive.
I, am, Alive!

The days repeat 
Like who I see,
What I say, what I eat
What I do,

But,
Nothing matters but being with you
You hold me together
Like paper and glue
You see my soul and say “I do.”
I know you, I know fate
Eternity says don’t wait!



I want life
I want you 
American Dream
Plan too.