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creative writing poem write writing

A Glass Door // A Poem

My life is like a glass door.
I can see the other side.
It's sunny & green & lush.
It's everything I wanted it to be
& it's forgotten everything I loathe.
But this glass door is just that.
A glass door.
A barrier.
A clear wall.
I can visualize, imagine, think & ponder
but I can't get to the other side.
If I am a plant,
I must bloom where I'm rooted.
But I don't wish to be rooted here.

By Carmen Varner




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autumn poem pumpkin winter write

Fall Becomes Winter // A Poem About Autumn Festivities

i can't wait for crisp cool nights
& christmas lights
& scarves & fuzzy socks,
for films & tea & holding hands
& never ending fun,
for foggy mornings & rainy days
until the year is done,
for pumpkin pie & cinnamon
& all those tasty eats,
for costumes & candy
& spooky trick or treats.
for me, i love this time of year
it's the happiness, the love
& that overall sense of cheer.
i better not blink too fast
because i don't want it to end
but it never seems to last.

By Carmen Varner


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poem write

Back to the Light

There was a time when life was a nightmare
& nightmares followed my dreams.
Reality was a horror,
a mess,
like me.
And then there you were.
You followed me into the dark abyss,
which I desperately tried to escape,
and brought me back to the light.

By Carmen Varner
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love poems poem

Your Thoughtful Kiss

I never knew that the touch of your callused hand
would feel so gentle against my freckled, sun kissed skin.
And your thoughtful kiss upon my forehead
speaks volumes about the adoration within the chambers of your heart.
It's not a beating box of blood vessels
but a testament to your commitment.
I knew you & you knew me
but now we know each other wholly.
The monotony of a Monday morning vanishes instantaneously
the moment I receive your message.
There should never be a night when we don't sleep side by side,
but life never goes according to one's wishes.
Tonight, I shall rest my head against my pillow solely.
The only trace of you is
the memories in my mind,
the photos on my phone,
the smell of your laundry detergent on the sweater you lent me.
You're rarely with me
but I wish you were.

By Carmen Varner
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