Healing Heart (a poem)

Poet’s note: I published this poem on 4/4/17.  I want to share it here, as well.  If you are looking to read more of my poetry, please feel free to check out https://www.poemhunter.com/julie-a-smith/.  I publish additional poetry there that is not all published on my personal blog.

I broke up with you
exactly one month ago.
I had peace with my decision,
but I didn’t want to hurt you.
But then you hurt me so badly.

It was an amazingly amicable break-up.
We both agreed that it was for the best.
You even said how you likely
would have broken up with me
in a few days since you felt that way, too.

But then I couldn’t believe that you
unfriended me on Facebook
a few days after our break-up.
You never told me
and left me to find out the hard way.
We had been friends for years.
Ten to be exact.
I could not believe that you would do that,
and then totally freeze me out
and cut off communication entirely.
I am definitely not perfect,
but I deserve better than that.

Makes me wonder
about being friends with guys.
Sometimes it is harder than being friends with girls
for obvious reasons.
I let you in
which I don’t always do
with guys
and it ended up
seriously harming a friendship
and hurting my heart.
Alas, I have a glimmer of hope
that there is still a guy out there
who will treat me tenderly
and cherish my healing heart
but sometimes that seems
so far away.
But maybe
one day
sooner rather then later
that vulnerable hope
will come true.

Stuck in the Mud (a poem)

I feel so stuck in the mud.
It is disheartening.
I tell myself
to move on
to let go
to have hope
and to love again
but those things
are easier said then done.
Rejection takes such an ugly toll.
Fiery darts to your soul.
Part of your heart feels forever wounded
and the healing is so painfully slow.
So tired of this world.
Guys want a girl’s body
but that can destroy her heart.
I wish more guys
were walking in honor and seeking
a woman worth waiting for
rather than pleasure for the moment.
But some things should be sacred
and in a lifetime commitment.
Marriage is a sacrament,
but society mocks the holy
and people of faith
and that makes me
want a revival of passion
and purity.
Maybe my guy is out there
amidst the billions of people
in this world.
But he keeps passing me by
and thus the longing in my heart
makes me cry.

Life. Love. Poetry.

Life.

Love.

Poetry.

 

Passion waning

hopes diminishing

time passing

unrequited feelings

and being constantly overlooked

is my lament

as the years go by.

 

A blessing

for me

to recently be inspired again

and not let my writing gift go dormant

My ten day poetry class

has quickly sped to an end.

 

Future hopes

would be

poetic inspiration flourishing

love coming

boy meets girl

and actually asks girl out

(yes, such a novel concept these days)

commitment more than a passing fancy

or moving on to the next girl

but one

that promises more

and touches my heart

and his.

Love blossoming

like a beautiful cherry blossom.

Faith flourishing

and a dash

of exciting world travel, too.

In my dreams

for the future.

 

 

 

 

Imperfect: A Poetic Rendering

Imperfect

why does it scare us so

to be?

Too slow

and we get left behind

and criticized.

Too fast

and we make mistakes.

 

As women

we struggle

to be thin.

To be beautiful.

To be desired.

To be capable.

All the while inside

secretly feeling imperfect

and wondering if we

are good enough,

or thin enough,

or pretty enough?

 

Perfection is a cruel master,

not allowing for any deviations,

flaws, or lesser standards.

But I believe that there

is beauty in imperfection

and freedom

in not trying to be perfect.

Perfectly imperfect.

That is true beauty.

 

Love is the Hope

The girl has a
hopeful heart.
Tired and forlorn
but still beating,
still prayerful,
and still seeking lasting love.
Love is the hope
of her.
Time smiles
and seasons come and go
for the girl
but she sees a future
in the distance
brighter than her current moments
and glistening with a golden sheen
like the sun and a thousand brilliant lights.
Love is the hope
of beautiful moments.
She is not backing down
from faith.
She is not giving up
having trust in her God
and His good hand
of provision for her.
Love is the hope
of God’s faithfulness.
Love beckons in the distance
still to be found and embraced
and toward that distance
she will go.

Love Tarries

Love tarries
as sunrises and sunsets,
new moons,
summer,
fall,
and winter
come and go
and another spring bashfully peaks
through the horizon.
The delay
and wait for love
weighs down my heart
with much sadness.
I feel forsaken
by love.

Men in my age range
seem to prefer model-types,
exotic foreign girls,
girls who like to flirt,
or girls who run after guys
and make things happen.
So, I’m no model,
nor do I want to be,
and beauty ultimately should come from within,
but I fault too many guys
for caring too much about appearance
and putting it on a pedestal,
and not caring enough about qualities
like compassion or intelligence or courage.
I don’t have exotic foreign appeal.
Alas, I can’t compete with that.
And I’ve never been one
much for flirting.
I appreciate genuine connection
and prefer to be monogamous
with flirting, but in dating
and not with every single guy.
I’m more traditional in nature,
and want to be pursued,
but society seems to laugh
at that these days.
I can be both traditional,
as well as for women having equal access
and opportunity in both the home and work sphere.

Love tarries
like a long, cold winter
when spring seems like it is forever gone,
and I sigh
and grow in patience,
albeit somewhat ungracefully,
in this wait for beautiful and lasting love.

New Year, New You (a personal poem)

A new year full of promise and secret dreams.

A new year, a fresh start, and hidden deep waters.

The dazzle of potential is blinding.

The beauty of a clean slate

is liberating,

euphoric,

and causes happiness to permeate

my forlorn melancholy.

 

Light always shines in the darkness.

Light always is beautiful.

Light always shows the way.

 

My theory is thus:

I need to learn to make my own decisions

and stop over-analyzing and questioning

Myself.

My hopes.

My dreams.

My heart.

And I need to safeguard myself from the voices

of those who would make my decisions for me

when that is not their choice,

and they should not be allowed to do so.

 

It is a new year.

I am a new me.

I want to break free

and go down a new path

(yes, I read that Robert Frost poem)

even if no one will join me.

I hope to find someone on the way,

because I am not meant to always be alone,

and God knows

I would make a horrible nun

(even though Mother Teresa is one of the women

that I admire the most).

Besides, I am not Catholic,

and I think marriage is the epitome of cool.

The world may dismiss it, but I won’t.

Marriage is beautiful.