Poems by Pat Fleming

I took a walk this morning
Just as the sun began to rise,
And the inky clouds encompassed her
And cluttered up the skies.

In the gloom I stood among
Those worn and weathered stones.
Stretched out upon the greenest grass
Each standing quite alone.

A morning bird was singing
Such a sweet and mournful song,
A tribute to those dearest souls
Who long ago moved on.

Ancient trees stood towering
Like loyal sentries standing guard,
Witnesses to all those laid to rest
And those surviving broken hearts.

The respectful silence floated
On a chilly morning breeze,
And the peacefulness embraced me
Like a blanket warming me.

Outside the gates, life carried on,
A siren pierced the hallowed air.
I thought perhaps another soul
Would soon be buried there.

I strolled around quite aimlessly
Entranced by all those words in stone,
And I realized that behind those words
Each had a story of their own.

I was glad I came to visit them
On this dark and dreary day,
And shared my story with them too
As I wandered on my way.

And as I reached the gates to leave,
Rain fell lightly from the sky,
And I swear I heard the softest voice
Bidding me a sweet good-bye.

For most of my life, I've been on a quest
To discover just who I might be,
Earnestly searching, day after day,
So desperate to recognize me.

I've felt moments of utter fulfillment
And moments I couldn't go on,
But I knew for the sake of my heart and my soul,
To succeed, I would have to be strong.

But the people around me seemed so lost themselves
That I feared I might be on my own.
But then there'd be someone who would reach out and help
And remind me I wasn't alone.

I've wanted so much to be happy,
To know what it was to feel peace,
And I thought if I finally felt sure of myself,
Then the pain and the struggles would cease.

But I've learned that this journey is endless;
The discoveries are fresh every day,
And no matter how much I might know of myself,
They'll be times I will still lose my way.

And as I've grown older, I truly believe
I may never know all I can be.
But the answers are not waiting out in the world
But have always laid right inside me.

We're all on this quest to discover ourselves,
Together but through our own ways,
Overcoming whatever might get in our paths,
So we can feel better someday.

But always remember not to stray far
From what matters and what's really true.
In this life you don't have to be perfect.
In the end, you just have to be you.

Some people view forgiveness
As a virtue for the weak.
An act of mercy undeserved,
That serves no useful need.

They stand firmly in their judgment
And won't consider a mistake.
They prefer to hold a senseless grudge
Than accept amends when made.

They feel they have some godly right
To reject and criticize.
They're possessed by righteous anger,
And consumed by pointless pride.

They're focused on how they've been wronged,
And won't be made the fool again.
So they feel they must avenge themselves
By refusing to give in.

They will sacrifice their family,
Or forsake a long-time friend.
Do anything they have to do
To be the winner in the end.

Or perhaps it's that they can't resolve
The depth of all their hurt,
Caused when someone they've trusted,
Left them questioning their worth.

But no matter why the struggle,
Out of pride or out of fear,
Not being able to forgive
Can cause the loss of ones most dear.

Yes, forgiveness is a virtue,
They even say it is divine.
But more than that it sets you free
From what weighs you down inside.

The best way to approach this life
Is to ask forgiveness and to forgive.
There's a balance to this crazy world,
So live and just let live.

Outside my bedroom window
Stands an old majestic tree.
She's been standing there for decades,
Just as proud as she can be.

And every morning when I wake,
She's the first thing I see.
This lovely constant in my life,
So magnificent and free.

I can see the early, rising sun
Peeking through her lush green leaves.
I can hear her moving gently,
In the summer's warming breeze.

She has a personality
That she wants the world to see.
And her moods are ever changing
Behind her silent dignity.

She responds to every season,
In her own unfettered way.
All we have to do is gaze at her
To know what season's on its way.

In the Spring she comes alive again,
As her leaves begin to bloom.
And beneath the sun's attention,
You can almost see her swoon.

And in the heat of the summertime,
When her joy is magnified.
She has never looked more beautiful,
All "decked out to the nines."

And when the Fall comes creeping in,
And a chill floats on the breeze,
She prefers to don more earthy tones,
And does just what she please.

But when the Winter's looming large,
It's impossible to hide
As her barren limbs droop soulfully.
They betray her grief inside.

She's stood by me through all my days.
She's watched me laugh and cry.
She's listened so intently
While I've pondered on my life.

And when I see her dank and weary,
I will sit with her sometimes.
And all the years we've shared together
Will come rushing back to mind.

But both of us are strong and true.
We've become the closest friends,
And we will weather every storm
Together till the end.

Seven AM and I sat at the light,
Watching the train chugging by.
A day like the rest, on the way to my job,
Just routine with no feeling inside.

The morning was frigid and snowy,
Just thinking how cold he must be.
But there I could see him wrapped up on the stoop,
In that blanket he found on the street.

That cold, concrete stoop, at that old, empty store,
The place that for years he called home.
He sat there each day, never meeting your eyes,
Just contented to be left alone.

The weeds by the tracks were his bathroom,
His food was a bottle of wine.
His clothes were all dirty and tattered.
He was drunk or passed out all the time.

To see him you'd think he was no one.
He was barely a man anymore.
A failure to the ones who once loved him,
And a burden to the rest of the world.

But those who once knew him in the days long gone by
Would tell you how wrong you would be.
For in fact, it's quite true that this lost, broken soul
Was once just like you and like me.

He woke up every morning in a home of his own
That he shared with his son and his wife.
He worked every day as a painter by trade
And thanked God every night for his life.

People who watched him admired his ways.
He was caring and decent and good.
He worked harder than most to provide for his son,
And for neighbors he did what he could.

Life was a struggle, and times could be bad,
But he always found strength to go on.
He wanted the best for the people he loved,
Never dreaming that soon they'd be gone.

It happened in winter on a dark, snowy day,
In a storm that had moved in quite fast
That his wife ventured forth to pick up their son,
And neither survived when they crashed.

From the day they were buried his friends rallied round,
But he was lost despite how much they tried.
And even today when they speak of him still,
They say it's as if they all died.

And when I last sat at that light, by that stoop,
I saw he was no longer there.
The store still sat empty and was now boarded up,
And I wondered if anyone cared.

But later I learned on that stoop where he lived,
That place that he once made his home
He too passed away on one cold winter's day,
Long forgotten and left quite alone.

So should you pass by a lost soul such as this,
Be careful how harshly you judge him.
For you can't ever know how loved he once was,
Or how valued his life may have been.

There's a silence so loud that it's deafening,
And the sun seems unusually bright.
The world is awakening to a bitter cold morn
And a crystalline blanket of white.

Our breath can be seen in the frigid air,
Our boots crunch, crunch with our stride.
Shovels resound in the midst of their battle,
As people now brave the outside.

Snowflakes still fall, leaving drops in the snow.
They melt as they land on our tongues.
People all bundled up tight to keep warm,
Suited up to let loose and have fun.

We're also determined to have a good time,
As we take our own stand in the snow.
The crisp, frosty wind tries to chase us away,
Pushing our backs as we go.

But no matter our struggle with winter's attack,
Our excitement just won't let us wait.
The snow is falling harder and steadier now,
And there's a Snowman that we must create.

Rolling the snow into big hearty balls,
Stacking each one on the last.
Charcoal for eyes and a long carrot nose,
And a hat and a scarf to add class.

A day made of wonderful memories,
Hours of laughter and childish fun.
And as time rushes by, we realize with glee,
That our work on our Snowman is done!

The gold, dimming sun retreats from the sky.
We are shivering and chilled to the bone.
Farewell and adieu to our shimmering pal,
And hello to the fires of home.

I gaze out at the night, as the house settles down,
And from the window I watch the snow fall.
And there in the glow of the fullest of moons,
Our exquisite, plump Snowman stands tall.

I sit upon my front porch stoop
Beneath the morning sun.
Grateful for the moment spent
Away from everyone.

The air is fresh and slightly chilled,
The sky is blue and clear.
The silence that surrounds me now
Is music to my ears.

I love the morning best of all,
It's my most tranquil time,
When the promise of a brand new day
Can ease my troubled mind.

When second chances seem more possible
And the world less cold and dark,
And hope can somehow pierce the walls
Of my sad and aching heart.

When left alone with nature
All the world seems far away
And the woes of life so trivial
When wrapped in her embrace.

But alas the birds awaken
And begin to sing their songs,
And people slowly wander by
And nod as they go on.

The sun has now grown brighter
As it rises in the sky
And in the distance there's a whistle
As a train goes lumbering by.

The world is calling out to me
To jump back in the fray.
To have faith things can get better
And let go of yesterday.

So today I get to start again
By the morning light renewed.
Feeling brave and energized,
There is nothing I can't do.

I wake up each day
On this journey of mine,
Grabbing each moment
Of my limited time.

I don't try to hurry.
It isn't a race.
There's still much to do
In this vast, vibrant place.

But the road's been so rocky,
The rain damp and cold.
I can't cover much ground
When I'm feeling so old.

People dash by me
As if I'm not there.
In a hurry to no place,
In haste to nowhere.

My feet start to hurt.
Now I must stop and rest.
I feel my heart beating
So fast in my chest.

But I need to catch up
Or they'll leave me behind,
If my body gives out
Or I misplace my mind.

They don't seem to see
They're just chasing their ends
And each moment slighted
Will not come again.

The sun's finally shining.
The birds are in tune.
The Summer to Autumn
Will pass away soon.

Most days that I travel
I'm all on my own,
Just revisiting places
And people I've known.

Days may pass by,
I don't utter a word
My memories grow distant
My life's purpose more blurred.

Some gloomier days
I don't get out of bed,
But search for my epiphanies
In my sweet dreams instead.

But alas I keep going,
I just tarry along.
I tell all my stories
And sing some old songs

I still share my smile
When I think there's a need,
Be a friend and a confidante
To anyone who wants me.

Still I wake up each day
On this journey of mine
And I thank God for the gift
Of a little more time.

Some days are better
While Some days are worse
But there's still much to see
And new roads to traverse.

Seagulls soar above her surf,
The sun reflects and gleams,
While people come from miles around
To stroll upon her beach.

Her touch conveys an icy chill
Through her stinging, foamy spray,
While her thunderous waves rush to the shore,
Then gently roll away.

Her blue horizon meets the sky,
The end cannot be seen
While her salty fragrance fills the air
And floats upon the breeze.

She safely cradles in her arms
The boats that bounce upon her tides
And plays coy with all the surfers
Who beckon for another ride.

She can distract us from our worries.
She can lure and hypnotize.
With the rhythm of her movement
And her beauty in our eyes.

She's a force that can't be reckoned with,
A power to revere.
She's a lovely, sweet seductress
Who we long to settle near.

There are no words that truly tell
The splendor of her face
Or recreate that feeling,
Of such a warm and peaceful place.

The ocean is a lovely gift.
She's God's great Masterpiece.
A miracle we can behold
That gives us reason to believe.

I peek through blinds that are tightly drawn,
Shocked by the glow of the breaking dawn.
I shun the brilliance of another day.
Enslaved and entombed, I stay hidden away.

The night was long as I lay awake,
Anxiety choking like a poisonous snake.
My self-hatred grows like some malady
That I pray will soon be the death of me.

Being hated and scorned is painful indeed,
And that love can be torture, we all must concede,
But to be ignored and forgotten can vanquish one's heart
Until it's in pieces, just shattered apart.

To feel nonexistent is so hard to abide,
When you know that your heart is still beating inside.
And how do you save your sinking soul,
When you feel yourself plummeting into that hole?

My dreams don't provide any rest or relief;
They only replay my regrets and my grief.
I honestly don't know how I came to this place,
But it's clear to me now that there is no escape.

You may call me weak and lowly at best.
I'm trapped in self-pity, I must confess.
I long for some quiet, just a moment of peace,
But my negative voice refuses to cease.

My greatest enemy resides within,
But how can I battle myself and win?
I find this a callous, duplicitous life,
Not worth any effort to fight the good fight.

Surviving, instead of living each day,
Sheltered inside sturdy walls I create.
Fleeting moments when hope will linger so nigh,
But those feelings of wretchedness still once again rise.

Getting through every moment and each empty day,
Feeling lost and panicked in this chaotic maze.
Still not giving up and not giving in,
With my greatest fear being that it won't ever end.