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Patricia Fleming

Patricia Fleming

About Patricia 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 Patricia Fleming

Ode To A Leaf
- Published: November 5, 2025
The Leaves On Trees

in Fall Poems

I once wore the deepest, emerald green
inside a cluster of plush, verdant leaves.
I bowed from an ancient, magnificent tree
and fluttered and danced in a warm spring breeze

I once wore the deepest, emerald green
inside a cluster of plush, verdant leaves.
I bowed from an ancient, magnificent tree
and fluttered and danced in a warm spring breeze

Then I sighed in the glow of the sultry sun,
thrilled that a new summer day had begun.
The birds hopped in glee as they woke one by one
and awakened the world as they twittered and sung.

I casted a welcome, magnificent sight
that sheltered and shaded from morning to night
I spied on sweet lovers in the dreamy twilight
and slept beneath stars twinkling and bright.

Then I swelled with pride in the rich, vibrant fall,
serenaded and soothed by the cricket's calls,
and draped in a golden, russet, shawl
I hung praised and admired by one and all.

I napped in the chill of the crisp Autumn air,
as squirrels gathered acorns strewn everywhere,
then I cried as the neighboring trees became bare
and thought how this life was so quick and unfair.

My moment had passed as I lay on that ground,
now withered and useless, decaying and brown.
I looked up at that tree standing naked and down
and recalled when our beauty could thrill and astound.

Though we all looked the same whisking there in the trees,
just a cluster of delicate, whispering leaves
our uniqueness may not be so easy to see,
I assure you there's no leaf in this world just like me.

But nature as life must go through its seasons,
we are born and we die for mysterious reasons.
But I had a good life, just as harsh as was pleasing
and I hope that the world will be grieved by my leaving.
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Beautifully written, as usual. I would definitely 'be grieved by your leaving'!

Love and very best wishes, Ann.

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I Long For An Honest Winter
- Published: October 31, 2025
The Thrill Of Winter Fun

in Winter Poems

To awaken to a morning
where a chill pervades the air,
despite the brilliant dazzling sun
that blinds you with its glare.

To awaken to a morning
where a chill pervades the air,
despite the brilliant dazzling sun
that blinds you with its glare.

When peeking through drawn curtains
winter's miracle abounds,
with the pristine arctic powder
stretched like a blanket on the ground!

To bundle up from head to toe,
to crunch through fields with glee.
To feel just like a child again,
inspired and carefree.

We create the perfect snowman
from frigid balls rolled round and round,
and he'll be a courtly-looking fellow
whose grand appearance will astound.

See that lovely couple skating
across the smooth and glassy ice,
or little kiddies gliding down steep hills
until their sleds take flight.

To finally gather round the fire
and bathe within its cozy glow,
laughing, singing and remembering
with the numbest cohorts that we know.

The finale of a winter's day,
drained by the chill of Jackie Frost.
Then cuddling upon a snuggly bed,
all for a minimal cost.

I miss that honest winter,
the whitest, bitter cold of all.
For me that wondrous season
is second only to the Fall.

As much as I love the vibrance of Fall
and the warmth of the summer sun.
I treasure the sting of my rosy cheeks
when our winter adventures are done.

Yes, I miss the winter of days gone by.
It instilled great joy in me
and right now the sight of pure crystalline snow
is the sight that I most need to see!
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Who Rescued Who??
- Published: October 17, 2025
The Story Of Rescuing A Pet

in Pet Friend Poems

She use to show up every weekend
And brighten up my day.
She'd blow me kisses and she'd talk to me
In such a loving way.

She use to show up every weekend
And brighten up my day.
She'd blow me kisses and she'd talk to me
In such a loving way.

She gave me hope when there was none
And made me feel far less alone,
And I wished that maybe one day
She'd finally take me home.

Her face appeared in all my dreams.
How I longed to be her pet!
From the first time that I saw her face,
It was a face I'd not forget

But sometimes she would seem so sad.
She was always by herself.
Maybe that was why she gave me love,
Because there was nobody else.

Each week I waited patiently
To see her once again.
I think she felt the way I did,
We were becoming special friends.

Oh, there were others who would stop and stare,
But we had no chemistry,
But I knew so deep inside my heart
That her and I were meant to be.

I knew I'd make her happy.
I'd let her hold me when she cried.
All her secrets would be safe with me
And I would never leave her side.

And then one day she wore a smile,
The biggest one I'd ever seen,
And she took me gently from my cage
And said, "You're going home with me."

So I was finally being rescued.
I thought the day would never come.
I feared I'd die in that dark shelter,
Never loved by anyone.

We drove through lovely country sides
And bustling city streets.
We would always be together now
Even when life ceased to be.

And when we finally made it home,
We both felt joyful as could be,
And as I sat upon her lap she cried
"I'm so glad you rescued me!"
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I can relate to this poem and the feelings I have for my rescued cat naked Elijah. Thank you for sharing, very well written.

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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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Featured Shared Story

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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View All Poems by Patricia Fleming

Stories

Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
8 years ago

I worked in a psychiatric hospital for 36 years, and I often thought about how my patients were often treated like they weren't even human. It was frustrating for me to work with people who didn't care about the patients' feelings and seemed to forget that they were people just like us, with all the same needs. That's why I loved you're poem. It's really beautiful in its message, and I hope other people that read this learn from your insight into your patients. I bet you are a wonderful nurse in addition to being a great poet. I loved this.

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
8 years ago

Oh my goodness, this is the most beautiful poem I've ever read. The story you tell so perfectly through the rhythm and verse of your poem. It's so endearing and touching. I feel like I just read this lovely story about your father who sounds so much like mine was, and what a precious memory you shared with the rest of us. You carried us through your history and brought us full circle to the oak tree, which for me was symbolic of the strength and beauty of who your father was. I wish your son could have known him, but you sound much like your dad, so in a way he has. You are an extremely talented poet, and this is the first time I'm marking a poem as my favorite.

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
8 years ago

This poem made me cry, which to me, the mark of a good poem is if it evokes a deep feeling. I feel so very sad for this woman, and your words cut to the very core of her feelings of loss, loneliness, feeling nonexistent, feeling useless and unappreciated, and worst of all unloved. I never had children, and now I never will, and that gives me great sadness. But I think for a woman who bore children, loved them, guided them and raised them, making millions of sacrifices along the way, only to be deserted and forgotten by those children, would be a far greater hurt and pain. Loved this poem, even if it was sad. God bless that poor, sad, sweet mom.

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
8 years ago

Wow, what a beautiful poem. To feel that kind of love and then be able to express it in such a way that I actually felt warm inside reading it is amazing. You described your wife in such a way that I think it would be an honor to know her and you as well, for not being afraid to tell the world how you feel. I love the form of your poetry; it's new to me, and it's just lovely. Thank you.

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Patricia A Fleming, Trenton
8 years ago

Love this poem for many reasons. Its message hit home for me, and I love the positive spin you put on it because aging can be so depressing at times. I love the form of this poem; it's my favorite, and the rhythm of you words is perfect. It's so simplistic but carries a great deal of real, honest feeling. Lovely, lovely poem. Thank you!

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Seasonal Poetry Collections

Patricia Fleming

About Patricia Fleming

Poems by Patricia Fleming

Ode To A Leaf

I Long For An Honest Winter

Who Rescued Who??

Dear World We Must Part Ways

He Stole Me

Stories