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Pat Fleming

Pat Fleming

About Pat Fleming

Started writing at an early age and kept journals over the years. After retiring in 2016, wrote primarily poetry every day. This site is the best of all and I am still so grateful to have found it. There are some immensely talented writers on here.
I have not been writing quite as often lately but I keep my hand in it. My other hobbies include coloring, I'm addicted, and reading, swimming in the ocean and kayaking. I love words and water! I have lived in NJ my whole life and still live there with my husband and my 5th rescued cat, Sammy.

On December 8, 2023, Austin Macauley Publishers released my first book of poetry. It is entitled, "Being Human In This Crazy World" by Patricia Fleming. It can be found online on many book seller sites all over the world. Just Google the title and author and you will find all the locations. It would be a tremendous honor if my peers and fellow poets would read my book and don't be afraid to let me know what you really think.

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Poems by Pat Fleming

Dear World We Must Part Ways
- Published: August 21, 2025
No Longer Being Beautiful As We Grow Older

in Aging Poems

Dear World,

I fear it's over!
It's time to go our separate ways.

Dear World,

I fear it's over!
It's time to go our separate ways.
I just can't meet those expectations
that you place on me each day.

You constantly berate me,
all you do is criticize
and I'll never measure up again
to what's beauty in your eyes.

When I was younger, it was easier
to be all you said that I should be.
But now that I've grown older,
what you get is what you see.

My face is lined with wrinkles,
some even make-up cannot hide,
and even bigger clothes can't cover
my growing belly, rump and thighs.

My hair is getting thinner.
My boobs are sagging to the floor.
No one would call me pretty
and looking sexy is absurd.

But your judgement is so brutal,
and you've set too high a ceiling.
Your standards are unreasonable
and make me feel so unappealing.

But beauty isn't always tangible.
It isn't just what we can see.
There's a beauty with a power,
and true integrity.

It lies deep inside our hearts and souls
It's everything we need and more.
It isn't loud or flashy
But it's light can't be ignored.

It's a gift that only God bestows
and when it touches you your blessed.
It's a vision that when shared with you
you never can forget.

So, dear world, you have my sympathy
for your ignorance and greed.
You lost sight of what true beauty is
and what being beautiful should mean.

As I grew older you lost interest
and looked at me through captious eyes.
You no longer saw the beauty there,
because you never looked inside.

Sincerely,
Pat
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Oh Pat, another brilliant poem! As always, you've said it all. Growing old is a pain...

Love and best wishes,

Ann

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He Stole Me
- Published: July 1, 2025
A Home Invasion Of Which I Was A Victim.

in Fear Poems

At first his knocks were timid
but his intentions were depraved.
I felt my darkest fears arising
as he grew more angry and half-crazed.

At first his knocks were timid
but his intentions were depraved.
I felt my darkest fears arising
as he grew more angry and half-crazed.

His kicks and pounds upon my door
became more outraged and resolved
and the moment more horrific
as all sanity dissolved.

I screamed for someone please to help.
I begged against his rising rage.
My home was not my safe place now
but a terrifying cage.

My husband pressed against the door,
would help arrive too late?
As the Monster shouted vile threats,
I feared the worst would be our fate.

I felt filled with such confusion.
What had we done to stir such hate?
This Monster, once our quiet friend,
whatever brought him to this state?

Suddenly the battered door was breached.
My husband fought with all his might.
He was determined he would save us
and he was now prepared to fight.

Then with a simple kitchen knife,
he sliced the Monster's arm.
The door slammed shut as the Coward ran
in petrified alarm.

The police broke through the downstairs door
and subdued the bleeding beast.
I could feel the thumping of my heart.
as I buckled at the knees.

My precious home was now destroyed.
My soul forever scarred.
My mood had sunken to a depth
that was empty, cold and dark.

Still my tears have gone on endlessly.
Sleep evades me every night.
I feel detached from those around me
in an unceasing state of fright.

My mind seems dim and cluttered.
My heart shattered into bits.
My soul cries out for vengeance
as I sink into a hate-filled pit.

And here I am inside that pit,
too weak and tired now to care.
Searching for myself in desperation
but finding me no longer there.

What if I had died that day?
and I'm just a spirit left to roam?
What if I've lost that peace forever
of my embracing "Home Sweet Home?"

For now I choose to just give up
and try my hardest to forget.
These days I just don't have the strength
to ponder my regrets.

Just let me be alone for now
and don't think too ill of me.
Forgive my melancholy
and please don't say that I am weak.

Then perhaps I will return in time,
feeling hopeful and revived.
Proud that I'm still standing
because, somehow, I have survived.
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I am so, so sorry to hear of your recent trauma. Goodness life can be really tough at times, but you of all people don't deserve this. You bring so much pleasure to others with your...

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The Beauty Of A Summer Night
- Published: June 8, 2025
A Summer Evening Sitting On My Front Porch

in Summer Poems

As the sun starts to fade into twilight
and a peacefulness settles in,
even nature grows lazy and sleepy
as the hum of the crickets begin.

As the sun starts to fade into twilight
and a peacefulness settles in,
even nature grows lazy and sleepy
as the hum of the crickets begin.

I rock to a chill, mellow rhythm
that plays to the day’s memories.
I sit tranquil and cozy on my front porch
in my pj’s and fresh scrubbed bare feet.

In the distance I hear muffled voices
and see soft lights from the neighbor’s TVs.
The motionless heat still hangs heavy
as it subtlety lures me to sleep.

But the dance of the night is seductive
so, I struggle against my fatigue.
My eyes are reflecting the firefly’s glow
and the bats as they soar above me.

The stars want to be a part of the dance
as they wink and they shoot through the sky.
The moon wears a smile as it directs tonight’s show
From its vantage point up there on high.

The smell of the sweet honeysuckle and earth
slowly and gently floats by.
The night birds sing songs to their exuberant mates
and together they fly through the sky.

A breeze starts to stir through lush green leaves
and the trees start to sway in delight.
The light of the moon pales ‘neath swarming dark clouds
And the stars slowly vanish from sight.

An aroma of dampness surrounds me
as light raindrops begin to creep in.
They tease with cool splashes upon my hot skin
as a swift summer squall begins.

It’s growing quite late and my bed beckons me
and I feel myself slipping away.
I drift into dreams of bright waterfalls
to the sound of the soft, steady rain.

Time seems to be in a hurry.
Days rush by in the summer haze.
But I’ll never forget each fond memory
they’re tucked safely forever away.
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I can see it, feel it and hear it - you have created such a vivid picture. Thank you, Patricia, for yet another beautiful poem. Love and very best wishes, Ann.

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The True Warrior Inside
- Published: May 27, 2025
Looking Old And Being Ignored Because Of It.

in Aging Poems

You may not know how old she is
But I'm quite sure you'll recognize.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist
To see the ravages of time.

You may not know how old she is
But I'm quite sure you'll recognize.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist
To see the ravages of time.

You may take note of all the wrinkles
That now define her aged face
Or the dark spots on her fragile hands
That no lotion can erase.

You may not hear her creaking bones
Or know how badly her feet ache.
But you are privy to her chronic pain
In the slowness of her pace.

You may discover that her hearings poor
When you try to pass her by
And find she'll gladly move aside
If you ask her eye to eye.

And therein lies the tragedy
Of living well beyond your prime
Even if your heart is filled with love
And you still possess the sharpest mind.

All they see is time's cruel conquest
And the spoils of that fight
Not the hero of that battle
Who gave all she had for life.

Or the soul that still shines brightly
And has so much more to give.
Or that person 'neath the time-worn mask
Who only wants the chance to live.

Her smile's still quite lovely
And she'll share it willingly
Just to prove she's still a person
Who she longs for you to see.

She has her own opinions
And an accomplished view of life
And her mind is filled with knowledge
And valuable insights.

She still has a sense of humor
And loves to laugh until she cries
Her heart is open to everyone
And she has the kindest eyes.

She loves those songs of yesterday
And can still sing every word
And her sweetest memories linger there
Inside of every verse.

She is a complicated being
Who worked hard for all she earned
And has a lifetime of experience
From which we all can learn.

So, ignore that well-worn cover
That only serves to hide
A heart that's young and open
And the true warrior inside.
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Oh Pat, I just love your poetry. I am so damned old myself it's great to read a poem that sums up how I feel about my aged self. Keep writing! Love and very best wishes, Ann.

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Now What's Left Of Me
- Published: May 26, 2025
Deep Depression

in Depression Poems

I'm slipping back into that hole
And my hopes are wearing thin.
I try to take a different path
Still, I hear it beckoning.

I'm slipping back into that hole
And my hopes are wearing thin.
I try to take a different path
Still, I hear it beckoning.

I'm traveling on a rocky road.
I trip and fall on jagged stones.
I keep wandering in circles.
I can't find my way alone.

I could call out to the wilderness
And flaunt my tears and pain.
But my voice in all that silence
Makes me feel far too ashamed.

I could return to that familiar place
And jump inside that hole
And let it swallow me again
Body, heart and soul.

Deep inside that darkness
I can finally find some peace
And immersed in all that blackness
Perhaps I'll get some sleep.

There's no one there to judge me.
I feel safer by myself.
No pretentious words of cold advice
Of how I need to get some help.

Inside that cool obscurity
All that pressure fades away.
I escape the captious carping
Hidden in the words they say.

They may think it's all self-pity
Feeling shunned and on my own.
But they know nothing of my journey
And those battles fought alone.

And now that I've grown older
My sense of loss is more extreme.
I'm running out of precious time
To see the dawn of all my dreams.

But one thing that I wish the most
That now I fear will never be
Is to look into my mirror
And truly love the me I see.

So, it's best I linger in that hole
Where no one else can see.
The remains of all those battles lost
And what is left of me.
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Another great poem. I've had depression, but not quite as bad. However, it's great that you can write about it, as I'm sure it will connect with many people who know exactly what you are...

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Stories

Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
3 weeks ago

It's as if for you time stopped the moment he was gone. Maybe you're afraid that if you wind those clocks it will mean you moved on and maybe you're not ready, maybe you feel it would be a betrayal of him if you did move on. It's amazing the things we do to somehow keep them with us. I remember when my Mom died and my dad was so lost. Once when I was there cleaning, I saw my moms pj's folded on the end of the bed. I put them in the drawer. When I came the next time, those pj's were right back on the end of the bed. When he passed 7 months later, my mom's pocketbook was still hanging on the dining room chair and had $126 in it. He never touched it. I'm glad you write about your husband in different ways because it keeps him here not just for you, but all of us. Your friend Pat

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
3 weeks ago

I firmly believe that our passed loved ones are all around us all the time. All we have to do is look around us, at nature, movies, poems, even in our dreams. I am certain that your husband is always by your side. How could he leave such a beautiful woman and human being. Your words remind us all to open our hearts ad minds and we'll find that love still there all around us. Your friend, Pat

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
3 weeks ago

Ann, Indeed new beginnings are everything. It allows us to see things as if we're seeing them for the very first time. A beautiful spring day as you described so perfectly, does trigger introspection with me too and gives me needed moments of hope. You described my feelings exactly!

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
3 weeks ago

Ann, I really think you are enormously talented. I've said it before but I must say it again, you are so good at describing complicated, deeply meaningful, heartfelt observations and experiences in such a few words. I read this and saw your husband sitting there with his loyal dog beside him and you just watching from a distance, thinking about the wonderful man he was and feeling so much love. You are such a supportive, kind woman that I hate to see you in pain and you are so quiet in your pain. That is until you put your feelings on paper and they explode in side of the readers heart. I love your work!

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
10 months ago

Our pets are sometimes a mirror to ourselves. The relationship is extremely deep. They can see into our souls and help make us believe that we are worthwhile and deserving of love. They sit with us when everyone else is gone. They become a huge part of us. You are so honest and brave in your writing. You show your vulnerability and it is beautiful to see and so easy to relate too. I thank God every day for my Sammy. He is my best friend and the way he looks at me, well at least I know he loves me. You rhyme is perfect and I remain so envious of your ability to express a complicated human feeling and relationship in such few words. You are a true poet and wordsmith. Hope you are well! Your friend, Pat

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Pat Fleming

About Pat Fleming

Poems by Pat Fleming

Dear World We Must Part Ways

He Stole Me

The Beauty Of A Summer Night

The True Warrior Inside

Now What's Left Of Me

Stories