Little Cloud (an identity poem)

Puffy cloud

little cloud

white cloud

What do you think about?

Soft cloud

tiny cloud

pure cloud

Where are you floating to?

Do you have any dreams or aspirations?

Have you ever rained on someone’s day?

Do you feel calm and happy?

Or do you feel explosive and sad?

As you float close to the Heavens

As you float near the divine Creator

do you feel His breath upon you?

Do you trust you are here for a reason?

Do you know His plans and purposes for you will prevail?

He is good. Can you feel it?

Your steps matter. Can you feel it?

He loves you. Can you feel it?

Puffy cloud

little cloud

white cloud

You are a cloud.

Yet, most assuredly, you are so much more.

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.

 

 

 

 

Beautiful oasis

My

beautiful oasis

is a field of gorgeous

purple wildflowers,

tall wild prairie grasses,

trees stretching for miles,

baby deer running into the forest,

and the brilliant sun on my back

as I meander through the woods

with joy and bliss in my heart.

It is a peaceful landscape

where I escape

and where I feel free of

the entrapment

of the chains of modern life

and the concrete jungle.

 

It is serene.

It is gorgeous.

It is exhilarating.

It is my beautiful oasis.

 

Newborn Daughter

The mother looks down

and tenderly smiles.

She reaches out

to stroke a stray lock

of wispy brown hair

on her newborn daughter’s head.

Her husband sighs with contentment

and radiates

a megawatt smile

full of love and warmth

and joy.

He touches his wife’s back

with a touch of adoration

and affirmation.

“Faith” they both whisper

in unison.

Their newborn daughter’s

chosen name

is full of promise

of their spiritual hopes

and dreams for her.

She is their joy.

She is their pride.

She is their daughter.

The special bond

that they share

is a blissful moment

when it feels like

Heaven actually comes down

and touches earth.

True bliss.

 

Cookie Dough Ice Cream poem

Cookie dough ice cream

is like a dream.

It is my favorite flavor.

I think I will love it forever.

 

The chocolate chips are yummy.

It makes me happy in my tummy.

Not trying to be funny;

it just makes my day more sunny.

 

The cookie dough pieces are bliss

kind of like a magical first kiss.

It is number one in my book

and will always get a second look.

Majestic Nostalgia: The Drive-In (a poetic tribute)

The majestic nostalgia

of the drive-in

calls out

to a place

in history

that is vanishing.

That makes me sad.

It is

a special place

where families and friends can

enjoy

movies on the

big screen

in the summertime and fall

in the crisp

night air

with popcorn in hand

and contentment in their heart.

There is

something

so beautiful

and pure

about a drive-in,

and I hope

that they last

into the future

for many years to come.

 

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.

 

Journey

I journey into a mythical place

full of castles and rolling green meadows,

and I gaze upon

a serene and beautiful unicorn

white as snow.

I stroke her mane

and it is silky to the touch

and soft as a baby’s newborn skin.

 

I see a rainbow with a pot of gold

sparkling like a star,

and I venture onward

to seek my fortune.

I ponder that perhaps I will see a leprechaun.

 

I pass a mighty rushing waterfall

clear as glass

and pure as diamonds.

I feel free and flawless.

Life’s weights seem magically forgotten

and all of my cares are gone.

 

Then I awake

from my blissful dream

and my magnificent journey,

but I have a newfound peace and ambition

for my real journeys yet to come.