By Jessica Wheeler
It's better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all?
Surely it must depend on cost
As if true love commits to all
Love is the sweetest melody
Water so warm, it pulls you in
Loss takes, offers no remedy
And when it pulls, it's sink or swim
Should love or loss leave your heart still
Each one threatens to take your breath
Heart's ache by loss from one's free will
When offering their soul to death
What of love that once did thrive
Not killed by loss, taken instead
Betraying love remains alive
The painful loss of love not dead
Must love’s rose wilt away with time
Only to deprive those in need
Think twice, a planned outrun or climb
For time has no concept of speed
Who gets to choose the difference
Of love that's lost or loss of love
Mocks us with offered preference
Yet, choice is what we're deprived of
Embark upon this love loss merge
Hearts up for grabs, souls on the line
We take or leave, retain or purge
Both love and loss, ours to define
| Author Notes |
This poetry book is a reflection of experience, my own and others, in hopes to capture the raw emotions involved with both love and loss. Most pieces written with the intent to provide a glimpse into relatable, yet unique moments of great love, or great loss; with a few lighter, everyday life poems thrown in between to represent balance.
Thank you so much for reading! |
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
To my best friend Katy, who bravely faces the heart-wrenching loss of her precious daughter. Lucy became an Angel just moments after entering this world, leaving behind a trail of love, sorrow, and grief.
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By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
Dedicated to My husband Dan, the love of my life...
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By Jessica Wheeler
Each night they creep
disrupt your sleep
Snatch you from bed
inside your head
Antagonize
behind your eyes
They aim to scare
and feast on fear
Fade out your light;
they wait in night
And look to find
those stuck behind
The purest heart
can't stop their start
And if you're found
Then you are bound
Puppet at rest
fear pounds the chest
Drums their parade
strums serenade
Dread sings a song
they sing along
Helpless in trance
on strings, you dance
Can't hide or run
toward the sun
When you embark
a night so dark
What it will bring-
remembering
Night won't delay
a mind replay
But the gravel
of your travel
Will not abide
a forward stride
A redirect
to cause effect
Narrows the path
of aftermath
The ones that lurk
were put to work
Minions to whom
assigned your room
Not to attack
but take you back
A place you know
you can't let go
Arrive at last
to hallways past
Behind each door
hell to explore
A time revived
for pain to thrive
Trapped in a room
of trauma’s bloom
Without release
or offered peace
Night terror looms
in varied rooms
And each one haunts
with ghostly taunts
And some, like me
have rooms of three
Traumatic post
stressed by the host
A swaying noose
of one’s abuse
Abandonment
a grief torment
Betrayed, undone
a hit and run
When nightmares store
from trauma's war
Brave soldiers break
from lives they take
The friend they lost
when limbs were cost
For lives they saved
their minds enslaved
Unfair demise
behind shut eyes
Relive the date
of your born hate
A risk gone wrong
times short or long
If pain you feel
your trauma's real
Although we wake
each day's at stake
Should one mirror
a night terror
We cannot know
each time we go
If one night fear
will keep us there
Still I will quest
for sleep with rest
Night trips could cease
I may find peace
Till then, my doom
each night, this room
Before closed eyes
again, she dies
| Author Notes |
The purpose of this piece is to express the impact of "night terrors", a symptom of PTSD, and what one might endure if it develops. PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) is a serious mental health condition that can develop in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event. This could include things like combat, sexual assault, emotional abuse, the death of a loved one, or a close call! Situations such as natural disasters, or car accidents are also a potential cause. In fact, there are countless situations. People with PTSD often experience symptoms that can range from mild to debilitating. Just to name a few- flashbacks, heightened anxiety, avoidance of situations that remind them of the traumatic event, and of course, night terrors. "She" is my little sister, whose death I witnessed; the subject of my own night terrors. https://www.ptsd.va.gov |
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
Keep Faith
Xo |
By Jessica Wheeler
When my husband and I met, then and there- my heart was set
On this man with charm and class, I fell hard, and I fell fast
No one makes me laugh like him, with that quick wit on a whim
His tall, dark, and handsome looks; not to mention- he reads books
But I cant quite hide my smirk, over my man’s little quirk
Takes his coffee with delight, extra sweet and way too light
With no bother to measure, scoops that sugar with pleasure
When I first learned, and after, I just can't hold my laughter
When I hear his deep, man voice, ordering the sweetest choice
Very light and way too sweet, then calls it his "special treat"
With no sugar left to share, is coffee even in there?
To add to his odd favor, he adds caramel flavor
And as sweet as that may seem, he still thinks it needs whipped cream
He knows I just like teasing- even though it's displeasing
Sugar-loving guy, and all... still looks like a damn Ken Doll
| Author Notes | My sweets-loving, sweet husband... |
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
I couldn't help myself. |
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
For my daughters- may they always twirl among trees and climb in curls.
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By Jessica Wheeler
We guide our children every day
They savor every memory
But we can grow from words they say
These are her words, my Morgan Lee...
A quiet night just months ago,
I tucked my daughter into bed
What happened next, I couldnt know
How much would change with what she said
She told me, "Mom, I'm proud of you
I know that you have had it rough."
I said, "That's just what mothers do."
She said, "Not every mom's this tough."
"Oh yeah, just look how tough I am,"
I teased, referring to my tears.
"Because of you, and Dad, and Cam
I found the strength to face tough years…
And that's when she looked up at me
and tears began to fill her eyes
much more than curiosity
Is what a look like that implies
I sat down and I held her hand
My full attention was required
I told her I would understand
With apprehension, she inquired...
•
•
“Mom, I know I'm only nine,
But I'm still old enough to know
When Auntie Kelly's on your mind,
And you try hard so it won't show
Since I don't mind, it might be good
I want you to, I won't feel bad
Tell me about her if you could,
I want to help you when you're sad
Because, I think about her, too
I really wasn't all that small
She'd sing and play guitar with you
I taped her picture to my wall
Her hair was black like ours, and long,
And she had so many tattoos
She told me I was brave and strong
A memory I'll never lose
I know I cried when she moved out
I guess I was just small before
Please don't be scared to talk about
When all I want is to hear more.”
•
•
It left me stunned to comprehend
The wisdom that my girl possessed
And she would hurt when I'd pretend,
Deserving truth, I then confessed
I opened up about my sister
Things I've tried to hide before
I told her just how much I missed her
And how each day I miss her more.
With wide eyes, she sat and listened
Took lessons from all that she heard
Her words that night were on a mission,
So she hung on every word
Although she may not be aware
or know the weight of words that night
The greatest gift beyond compare,
is that her heavy heart's now light
| Author Notes |
This story in a poem is a non-fiction account of a real conversation Initiated by my daughter. Although I had to tweak them slightly to create a rhyme, I stayed incredibly true to her actual profound words. This was very important to me, as this conversation was one of the most significant and pivotal moments of my life. My daughter was hurting, and though my intention was to shield her from witnessing my overwhelming grief after my sister's passing, I inadvertently caused her anxiety about my avoidance.
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By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
That third hit did it!
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By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
The intention of this poem is to capture the common feeling of fear over what is unknown. Typically, this unease manifests after experiencing a significant event that was beyond one's ability to manage or prevent. Though in many cases, fear of the unknown is merely anxiety deriving from a source also unknown. |
By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
She'll face her fears till limits rise
And watch them clear from summer skies
She'll chase her dreams and butterflies
And catch them both before our eyes.
| Author Notes |
Last year, my daughter Camryn was diagnosed with dyspraxia, also known as developmental coordination disorder - a rare condition in America, but more common in other parts of the world. Unfortunately, there is no cure for this condition, and it affects each individual differently. For Camryn, there are physical challenges, but thankfully her cognitive development and ability is completely unaffected.
Upon diagnosis, we were told that there would be "limits". Yet, Camryn never fails to give it her all. With physical and occupational therapy twice a week, along with demanding daily exercises, she has exceeded our expectations. Her resilience and determination are an inspiration. So, while we may not know what limits may come, we do know our Camryn will face them head-on. (With mom to back her up, of course) ;) |
By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
Clumsy klutz and wet butts! |
By Jessica Wheeler
from their sheltered nest
who do the songbirds sing to
when they serenade?
their song is a gift
sung to the tree they sing from
for shelter given
| Author Notes | MONDO FORM: 2 stanzas of 3 lines each, 19 syllables or LESS, often 5/7/7, or 5/7/5 for each stanza. The first stanza is a question the second stanza is the response. Usually, mondo is a collaborative poetic form but for this club event, one poet will write the question and the response. Mondo gleans meaning from nature in the spirit of Zen through meditation and observation of natural surroundings. |
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
Vicious little kitty
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By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
By Jessica Wheeler
| Author Notes |
My cousin, Megan Lee, was my very best friend and the embodiment of kindness and loyalty. It felt like her soul was ancient, wise beyond her years. Her love of sunflowers was known, and also made evident by her tattoo.
Tragically, Megan's life was cut short one night when her husband crashed their car into a tree, less than a mile from their home. Friends later revealed that Megan was scared and begged for the keys, but her intoxicated husband refused and demanded she get in the car. He walked away unscathed, and Megan instantly lost her life. I was six months pregnant when Megan Lee was killed. When I gave birth to my first daughter that November, I was struck by the perfect heart-shaped birthmark on her thigh. It was almost as if Megan had stamped it right on her. I'd like to believe she did. In tribute, we named our daughter Morgan Lee. |
By Jessica Wheeler
Melancholy me, since Kelly's gone away
Beyond the moon and sea, now gone from every day
Stage by stage I've wept, but finally, I see
What I must accept; a melancholy me
Happiness and joy, are never felt alone
Grief means to not destroy, it leaves the undertone
It’s hopeless to contest, what lingers underneath
So I'll try my best, to balance in my grief
Though, I may be jaded, I've left behind denial
The anger has since faded; Ive learned again to smile
Since she had to leave, and I am here to stay
Forever I will grieve, my melancholy way
Born in her last breath, to burrow into place
To live despite her death, as long as I embrace
For it's now mine to keep, it's just my cross to bear
I've buried it down deep, but it is always there
A distant cloud that looms, in sunny clear blue skies
Though never quite consumes, within all things, it lies
A whisper to remind, to keep my pain intact
But this I will not mind, if I can't have her back
And though I did not choose, it's what I would prefer
I cannot bear to lose, the memory of her
If pain is in my heart, then Kelly, too, shall be...
Because she’s just a part, of melancholy me.
| Author Notes |
My final chapter is dedicated to my greatest loss, my little sister, Kelly. Her death has left an indelible mark on my heart and soul.
After it happened, I was in a very dark place- drowning in grief. Nothing seemed to resonate with me. I read, I listened, I searched- but I constantly felt misunderstood. Then one day, my cousin sent me this video of an interview with the actor Billy Bob Thornton. In it, he spoke about losing his own brother. His words were candid... they didn't contain some big profound reveal. They were really rather simple. But it was the first time since Kelly died, that I felt understood. He captured exactly what I was feeling, but hadn't been ok enough yet to articulate. It's the first time I heard "it's ok to never get over it". I needed that hope. This poem was inspired by what he said in that interview. |
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