Poems and Poetry

C.J. Hemsley

Untitled | A Poem by C.J. Hemsley

Scars of knowledge furrow her skin
like scales on a dragon’s wing,
toughened by centuries of living.
When she speaks,
years of lessons,
no louder than a whisper,
traverse from mind to tongue.
Words, drowned
in the fragrance of wisdom,
saunter through the air
with humility like
some sort of timeless spirit
conjured up from
unblemished optimism.

She’d scroll through her
mental book of morals,
regurgitating virtuous stories
as if she were a professor of life.
And, in a sense, she was.
But, like a young bird
understanding flight,
a young mind can’t
conceptually grasp wisdom
until its been thrown from
the safe haven of its’ nest
and is falling at cataclysmic speeds.
There’s a point,
during the dissension,
that instincts kick in.

as I’ve come to age,
they’ve taken on new meanings,
perfectly coinciding with now.
She just wanted
these lessons to seep
through the thick skull God’s cursed
her grandson’s everyday with.
And, hoped that the cracks
that painted her guise
could strengthen his character.

Visit C.J.’s website at http://www.about.me/C.Hemsley.

Wise Whispers | A Poem by C.J. Hemsley

They say,
20s are about finding your soul.
They’re about,
Festivities, fornication, friendships,
Frolicking, finding freedoms,
Finding yourself,
Helping, hoping, holding onto things,
Letting go,
Hungering for happiness,
Juxtaposing juvenile values
With mature morals,
And now, at 22,
I can say,
“I am a citizen of a world
Where the glory for gold seems
Out of step
With the visions of God.”

There’s a place in my memory,
An awful waste of space,
Analogous to a perpetual prison,
Regrets are kept alive,
And over time, morph into dementors.
Eclectic group of Soul snatching villains
That bankrupt me of emotions
And other fragile treasures:
Innocence, naiveness, sincerity,
gullibility, and optimism.
If the mind was a farm,
They’ve neither cropped bitterness,
Not razed faith.
They have sown principles
I reap daily and thrive off of.
For they are my teachers.

Visit C.J.’s website at http://www.about.me/C.Hemsley.

Autumn in Georgia | A Poem by C.J. Hemsley

It’s autumn in Georgia,
and nature’s death,
has never looked more beautiful.
The hills roll away like sleeping lions.
The untamed splendor
of dying leaves is strangely magical.
As God paints the mountains in
primary colors,
they bleed into one another,
Creating rust-colored
mountain ranges
with ice capped peaks.
It’s autumn in Georgia, and
nature’s death,
has never looked more beautiful.

Visit C.J.’s website at http://www.about.me/C.Hemsley.

In the Rags of a Servant | A Poem by C.J. Hemsley

He spoke to me:

“As I walk the land,
Submerged in thought,
I hear the footsteps of my ancestors,
conquering the darkness
with their small candles.
Their once extant spirits
have crossed-over:
moonlighting as heralds from
another world, riding the winds,
praying I breath in
their ceaseless energy, So
their good can emanate through me
As it once did them.
When you dream, he says,
Dream a dream that changes
The world, not just yours.
In a world turned upside down,
Be good hearted and strong,
And watch as like minded men rush
to your aid.”

Visit C.J.’s website at http://www.about.me/C.Hemsley.