Arthor Journer

Arthor Journer Poems

There is no way to measure a mother’s worth
The depths of her love and her gentle care
The bond she has with her children from birth
No gift or treasure can ever compare
...

Tears flowed like wine,
On pristine white floors,
Leaving fresh stains with each new spring.
Nurse’s hands leave imprints on my shoulders.
...

Fear clings to flesh as dew clings to a rose,
Eyes like shutters slowly open then swiftly close.
The view of reality thus only prolong,
As if their hiding will end their song.
...

Memories echo things that were done even words said
For yesteryear we were lovers but tomorrow she weds
Emotions are confused my mind in futile disarray
Discontent where I am yet my heart reaches back to yesterday
...

The song rings out once again inspiring my soul to sing
Not a song of pain and glory, but a sweet symphony
The hard downpour will nurture and reap bright flowers
Strands of web the wind will break before life sours
...

Still mesmerized by the things that were said
Soul still full from the fresh nutrients it was fed
A star shining so bright in the sky a million more
This one glimmered differently grace and beauty galore
...

Somewhere in the battle my heart lost the score
But now awaking from my slumber once again off two war
Wounded pride and scarred flesh and mind
The helmet too thin the vest tin foil lined
...

There are no threads of justice no gifts of glee
For love loves but loves not me
A cycle of words a circle of hurt
A layer of dead seeds planted in my earth
...

Alone I walk as the leaves whisper underneath soulful feet,
Petrified trees lean into each other impelled by the wind’s breath.
My sullen soul shivers and contemplates a disdainful retreat,
Surrounded by nakedness and the impaling hands of death.
...

Lofty dreams falter and tumble to the ground
Skies scream dark and cold when you’re not around
Winds blow my mind and the sea fries my soul
Rain is like sharp needles and muscles lose their control
...

Traced my footsteps to the point where my heart fell
Waves eat my imprints on the saturated sand
It still is easy to love you but hard to love you well
Yet where the water takes my paths is hard to understand
...

Skin shivers with the whispers of the coming night
Behind trees and shadows emerge phantoms of delight
They sing the pleasures of touch and taste
The rhythm and smells of love so chaste
...

Went to this place that promised happy hour
But I found myself drowning in this whiskey sour
I was not gay I was not happy there was no smile on my face
All hope all cheer all faith had been erased
...

Shall we propose a toast to our tears?
For my first proposal only hurt
Perhaps you were not serious or sincere
Only a figment of imagination of my heart
...

From mind to heart is how it all began
From the heart to the soul if I ever love again
Nights of heated passion and empty morns
Days of frustration and fights being the norm
...

The winds in my wings set my soul to flight
The spiral of fire in the sky conquers my subliminal nigh
And as eyes are opened and the whispers are heard
My veins dance and sway and are caught in the breath of the words
...

Tracing the borders of Alone that lay on the edges of the sky
Realize how deep wide and high Alone can be
Like the ocean’s bottomless pit that holds the answers to why
It swallows you up and invades your heart like the swelling sea
...

18.

His soul blushes at the very glance of her delicate smile glaring white
His skin quivers from the swarm of butterflies that just took flight
Beyond her smile though is a heart of darkness and deceit
Black widow in search of the next victim’s defeat
...

Has a mirage taken over the landscapes of my heart’s topography?
Or my soul deceived by mirrors or trick photography
Has my eyesight been hindered by the dark gray clouds in attack
Or my hearing diminished by the train on my mind’s tracks
...

The shores are gently or violently massaged by the sea
That in itself gives it purpose…. a reason to be
Tall trees with wide branches origins in a tiny seed
Just that gives it purpose…. a reason to be
...

The Best Poem Of Arthor Journer

The Measure Of A Mother's Worth

There is no way to measure a mother’s worth
The depths of her love and her gentle care
The bond she has with her children from birth
No gift or treasure can ever compare
Her words that become engraved in her children’s mind
Start as only seeds planted in the fertile soil
But they take root so the right path they may find
As these trees mature and face both joy and turmoil
There is no way to measure a mother’s worth
No scale or ruler or number can calculate
There is no equal of her love here on earth
No riches or value can be given to compensate
Her touches that heal the wounds on the knee or elbow
Can also comfort the wounds on the spirit or the heart
They inspire and lift up those that are low
And encourage her children from the very start
There is no way to measure a mother’s worth
The attention that she shows the ones she raises
The abundant supply of affection and mirth
Is worthy of infinite gratitude and praises
Her wisdom is beyond what words can say
The limitless strength that she uses to protect
The love that she shares from day to day
Deserves much honor and respect
There is no way to measure a mother’s worth
The intensity of her love is both precious and rare
The bond she has with her children from birth
There is no equal of her indefinite worth anywhere

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