Key West Poet

Living Right

To be a good person is to cradle kindness,
Like a warm ember flickering in a fireplace,
To weave compassion through the fabric of life,
With a gentle touch, a patient smile, on your face.

It means to listen, without judging and open heart,
To hold your advice when hearing stories on pain,
To extend a hand, with no strings from the start,
To get wet on journeys through someone elses rain.

To be a good person is to cherish the small,
The laughter shared between those like me,
To find joy in the rise and the beauty in the fall,
To forgive, to grow, to set the spirit free.

It’s standing firm against the tempest of the night,
Where truth is wrapped in the tenderest of arms,
To speak for the voiceless, to be a beacon of light,
In a world often lost in its own silent charms.

In the quiet corners where no accolades echo,
Where love is an action, and grace is a gift,
To be a good person is to let the heart glow,
To choose each day to be solid and to uplift.

Each choice a reflection of a soul unconfined,
In the dance of existence, both bittersweet and true,
To be a good person is to seek and to find
The beauty in others, and in ourselves, too.

Jonathan Phelps

This style poem is called a "villanelle". A villanelle is a nineteen-line French poem with a strict structure, consisting of five tercets (three-line stanzas) and a final quatrain (four-line stanza). It has two repeating rhymes and two refrains. The poem's defining features are its refrains, rhyme scheme, and stanzas. The first and third lines of the opening tercet alternate as the final lines of the following stanzas. The final stanza's two concluding lines are the refrains.

I have done a few of these. This one is my favorite.

Shadows Cast

My shadows cast by love’s unyielding art,
My heart beats boldly, yet your gaze is cold;
A tempest swirls within, this aching heart.

I’ve whispered softest truths where we could start,
But anger’s tide has left my spirit bold—
My shadows cast by love’s unyielding art,

You wear a mask that keeps us far apart,
Your tender promises feel bought and sold;
A tempest swirls within, this aching heart.

The warmth of fire turned to ice, a dart
Of silence sharp, a silence uncontrolled,
My shadows cast by love’s unyielding art.

I seek to bridge the gaps that tear, and part,
Yet bitterness your touch, it has enrolled.
A tempest swirls within, this aching heart.

Oh, unravel from this place where doubts impart
Where every soft word cradles anger's hold,
My shadows cast by love’s unyielding art,
A tempest swirls within, this aching heart.

Jonathan Phelps

The following poem is written on a style I found rather difficult to understand it is called a "sestina" and i am pretty sure i am not doing it right. A sestina is a complex, 39-line poem with six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoi, also known as a tornada. The poem's structure relies on the repetition of six end words in a specific pattern across the stanzas. The final words of the first stanza are used as the ending words for each subsequent stanza, but in a different order. The envoi must also include the remaining three end words.

So here is my attempt.

Reversed Affection

Listen to me whisper, my heart beats true,
A love that spills like morning’s golden light,
Yet shadows linger, cast by your own voice—
I offer warmth, but find you wrapped in frost,
Your anger slices deep, a jagged knife,
While words of gentle grace melt in your eyes.

Your heart is closed, though mine’s an open door,
Each tender phrase I weave is lost in storms.
I stand in silence, hoping you will see:
My soul laid bare, love’s palette, bright but grey,
Yet every canvas painted shows your frown,
Reflected anger blurring all the hues.

I grasp the moments, breaths of shared delight,
Yet find them marred by echoes of dismay,
Each step we take feels heavy as the night—
What once was soft now bears a jagged edge,
And love, once sweet, has crumbled to despair,
In shadows where your laughter used to dance.

I question if these words can bridge the void,
Can parchment hold the weight of broken dreams?
For I have loved you with a restless heart,
But in the fire of my offering,
You see the embers burned beyond repair,
And turn your back, consumed by tempest’s glow.

So here I stand, a poet lost in lines,
Bewildered by affection cast to ash.
I yearn to break the cycle, to ignite
A spark of understanding deep within,
But anger’s grip holds tight, retains your heart,
While I, with all my love, search for the flame.

Yet hope persists, a flicker in the dark,
Amidst the chaos, longing for the day,
When all this hardness might dissolve in grace,
And tender truths find solace in the sun—
For love, though bruised, still whispers from the heart,
I wait, a lover’s prayer upon my tongue.

Jonathan Phelps

Whispers of Solitude

At the twilight hour, when shadows blend,
A call to the spirit, a longing to mend.
Not born of resentment, nor tethered by blame,
But a gentle retreat, a solace to claim.

Like leaves in the autumn, I drift from the fray,
Not fading from love, but carving my way.
In the silence of solitude, my heart learns to breathe,
Gathering whispers, the world’s tendrils to sheath.

There’s beauty in absence, a canvas unmarked,
Where echoes of laughter, once vibrant, now stark.
I seek not to sever the bonds we once wove,
But rather to wander through meadows of trove.

In the soft veil of dusk, renewal takes flight,
The stars paint my solitude, bathing me with light.
I drink deeply from silence, where echoes find rest,
In the arms of the quiet, my spirit feels blessed.

As I slip gently from your tender embrace,
Know it’s not distance that causes this space.
I’m stitching my heart with the threads of the dark,
Embracing the quiet, igniting the spark.

For in this retreat, there’s a promise I know,
That roots grow much deeper when they’re allowed to grow slow.
Eremitism, my friend, is a dance with the self,
An invitation to heal—a soul’s quiet wealth.

Jonathan Phelps

Embers of Resilience

My life has been full of turmoil, my heart torn,
Where shadows linger, memories worn,
Love slipped like sand through open hands,
Yet, from the ruins, a new spirit stands.

Each whisper of sorrow, each echo of loss,
Has carved out a path; yes, it comes at a cost.
Death’s chill wraps tight, a shroud of despair,
Yet within these dark folds, new light finds its air.

With every teardrop that meets the ground,
A seed of compassion is planted, unbound.
For love is a phoenix, rising from dust,
In the heart of the broken, some find it hard to trust.

What does not kill me, surely ignites,
A fire within, that flickers, then fights.
Through the storm's howl and the darkness' embrace,
I gather my strength; I make space for grace.

So let the world tremble, let the trials unfold,
For in the depths of love’s warmth, my spirit is bold.
I choose to love freely, amidst all the pain,
A heart forged in struggle knowing how to sustain.

No strife shall define me, nor fear hold me still,
For rising from ashes, freedom finds will.
In the dance of the storms, I learn how to soar,
Braving the tempest with wings evermore.

Jonathan Phelps

In the echo of silence, where memories linger,
Your laughter adorns the walls of my heart,
Yet shadows creep in, with their bittersweet fingers,
And peace feels a long-forgotten art.

I wander through dreams where we once danced,
Each step a reminder of the fire we shared,
But the scars of betrayal have tightened their hold,
These chains of the past, heavy, yet bared.

Her name is a whisper that haunts my night skies,
A star now extinguished, lost to my fate,
Though love was a flame that burned bright in our eyes,
It turned to smoke, and I learned to berate.

I stand at the crossroads of longing and pain,
With heart heavy-laden, with thoughts intertwined,
Yet deep in the shadows, a new light remains—
The strength to release what no longer is mine.

So I gather my pieces, though tattered and worn,
And whisper a promise beneath the pale moon,
That I'll rise from the ashes, reborn from the scorn,
Like dawn breaking softly, I’ll find my own tune.

Let the scars tell my story, let the tears carve my path,
For in the depths of this sorrow, a seed can still grow,
Though I'll never forget what we've lost in the past,
Tomorrow awaits me, and the heart’s power to flow.

In the quiet folds of twilight’s embrace,
A heart lays heavy, lost in memory’s trace.
Once, a bloom in the garden of time,
Now just a whisper, a half-remembered rhyme.

Her laughter echoes in corridors dark,
Each note a reminder, a flickering spark.
Yet shadows unravel what once felt so bright,
As betrayal casts specters in the dimming light.

You stand at the crossroads, a ghost of the past,
Craving the warmth of a love that won’t last.
But the chains of her choices, they bind like a shroud,
A cruel tapestry woven; the truth stands unbowed.

Step into the dawn with a heart forged anew,
Let the sun's gentle touch chase the shadows from you.
For to move onward is not to forget,
But to honor the lessons, not drown in regret.

In the ruins of sorrow, you’ll find strength reborn,
A phoenix in ashes, a new day’s adorn.
So gather your pieces, with grace and with care,
For a brighter tomorrow waits, tender and rare.

The Quiet Storm

I feel it all in my heart and bone,
Sadness whispers, an undertone.
A heavy cloak, it drapes and weighs,
Unraveling strength in quiet ways.

The stomach churns, the head feels tight,
Each thought a shadow, each breath a fight.
The heart can ache, a dull, deep thrum,
In silence, feels like a deafening drum.

Emotions, a tempest, brewing within,
Feed on the spirit, where light once had been.
What once was laughter, now echoes of tears,
A manifestation of deepest fears.

In that darkness, I find no spark,
No flicker of hope, when times are stark.
So honor the sorrow; it’s part of your song,
But remember, dear soul, you are not wrong.

Seek the whispers of kindness, reach out your hand,
In solace and support, together we can stand.
Let the warmth of connection lift burdens you bear,
For healing begins when we show that we care.

Jonathan Phelps

The Weight of Emptiness

I feel no warmth, I stand, a extinguished flame,
A heart wide open, calling out her name.
Yet shadows whispered secrets, cutting through the glow,
A truth like bitter winter, hard and cold to know.

I draped my soul in kindness, like a tender shawl,
Hoping my love would rise, a gentle rise, not fall.
But in their fleeting glances, I felt the chill of space,
A hollow echo answered, “You meant nothing in this place.”

Each laugh and cherish moment now drips with ache,
A fragile glass that shatters with every whispered break.
For the ones who held my heart, in their gaze did not see,
The countless threads unspooled, unraveling me.

In this depth of sorrow, I hold to a fragile thread,
Hoping that despite the cracks, I am not misled.
Her love was just words, in the light of truth’s embrace,
But within the heart's deep chambers, I was shown my rightful place.

Jonathan Phelps

Echoes of Shadows

Screaming in my mind, from the whispers rise,
Ancient echoes clawing at the heart’s soft sighs.
Demons dance in shadows, sharpened in their art,
Cunning glimmers flicker, no wisdom to impart.

Once a fortress, my spirit stood so tall,
Now crumbling walls surrender to the call.
With each flicker of the flame that once burned bright,
I lose the battle, fading into endless night.

A heart that once knew love, now wears a scar,
Memories taunt me, strumming each guitar.
No happy endings waiting on the other side,
Just the silence of the void where all joy has died.

In the cracks of sorrow, no glimmer remains,
My demons whisper, "You belong in your chains."
Start shedding fragments, I am weary and worn,
For in the darkness, i just feel her scorn.

Jonathan Phelps

What i thought was right, I no longer know,
Two hearts entwined in a delicate flow.
My whispers of affection, soft on the air,
Met with storms of anger, the weight of despair.

I crave the warmth of her gaze, that sweet light,
Yet shadows of doubt turn the day into night.
What is love, then, if touch is a crime,
If a simple “good night” is met with the climb?

She says she loves me, yet her heart seems to stray,
Caught in thorns that keep her fears at bay. Can love not be laughter, a dance in the dark?
Or is it the silence that leaves only a mark?

Longing is heavy, and burdensome chains,
When two souls collide, and one pulls away strains.
To cherish and hold in the depths of my heart,
Yet feel like a villain when I longed for a start.

Know, dear heart, love is a vast, wild sea,
It ebbs and it flows in ways hard to foresee.
Patience, sweet friend, let the tides settle down—
For true love may rise, or it will surely drown.

And if eyes meet this night through the screen's gentle veil,
Let truth be a compass; let honesty sail.
Cast aside fear, let your heart take the helm—
For love no longer lives in this realm.

Bad Timing

I don't regret us, we chanced upon fate,
Two souls adrift, held by a delicate thread,
In moments that flickered, hearts chose to create,
An echo of laughter, a soft word unsaid.

The clock’s cruel hands spun far too fast,
Yet in fleeting glances, a universe bloomed,
Though time was our thief, and shadows amassed,
In the depths of my longing, your spirit consumed.

We danced on the edges of what could have been,
A tremor of promise in the hush of the night,
With every shared silence, a truth intertwined,
More than mere strangers, we were hearts taking flight.

Here in the twilight, though paths lead apart,
I hold onto whispers that linger and weave, For fate writes our story in the ink of the heart,
And I, a believer, can never leave.

Jonathan Phelps

Bad choices

In my strangled mind, my thoughts collide,
A heart, a mind, in tempest's tide.
The weight of choice, a heavy stone,
In silence, I wrestle with the unknown.

The path ahead, a fragile thread,
In every turn, a word unsaid.
What’s right? What’s wrong? A riddle spun,
In endless night, the race not run.

Oh, fractured soul, seek light in gloom,
Even the dark must yield to bloom.
For every doubt that tugs and pulls,
There lies no light my presence dulls.

Can't breathe, no heart, amidst the strife,
In chaos, I lose the pulse of life.
Though choice may loom like thunder's roar,
No trust in the stillness, smiles nevermore.

For in the war of thought and dreams,
The truth unseen in quiet streams.
I feel the grip of fear's cruel throng,
And write my tale, I don't belong.

Jonathan Phelps

The Hard Road

Drowning from my heart’s own weight,
A grown man stands at love’s cruel gate,
Where tears do lack, yet sorrows swell,
A silent storm, a muffled bell.

Her words, like whispers on the breeze,
Speak love, but drift like autumn leaves,
Each promise wrapped in a soft whisper,
Each laugh a veil, the cold ever crisper.

I cling to echoes of the past,
When warmth and fire burned bright and fast,
Now haunted by the ghost of grace,
I seek her eyes, but find empty space.

Proof of worth in lingering doubt,
A fragile heart, a silent shout,
Yet still I stand in quiet grace,
A witness to this hollow place.

But know, dear man, in strong embrace,
That beauty blooms, though time may trace,
For worth is written not in eyes,
But in actions that dare to rise.

I can't let go of love that dims my light,
This love stings, it’s meant for flight,
For in the ashes, nothing will grow,
And from this pain, misery will flow.

I let the silent tears run free,
And in their path, find calamity,
Never love again, or hold hope near,
For every heart, its pain draws near.

Jonathan Phelps

A Kindness Misplaced

For kindness, I was sent to hell,
Echoes of my heart compel—
To rise above the weight of disdain,
To seek the light amidst the pain.

If my laughter’s a melody unsung,
Then tune your heartstrings, come undone, For in the garden where friendship grows,
True kindness flourishes, it gently sows.

Do not hide the warmth you bear,
In silence, love’s spark fades to despair.
If my spirit lifts your weary skies,
Then be the sun, and let joy rise.

For when the soul is cherished bright,
No room for darkness, only light.
Appreciate my dance, my song,
With every heartbeat, I’ll grow strong.

Let each moment, rich and true,
Embrace the beauty that flows in you,
For I will not wear the scars of the blind;
To share in happiness, love must be kind.

Jonathan Phelps

In the Tenderness of Love

In the whisper of morning, as the sunlight weaves,
Consideration blooms like petals on the trees.
Yet, beneath the beauty, a weight may reside,
For love’s true compassion can be a tumultuous tide.

It’s easy to forget in the hurried pace of days,
The simple act of kindness, the small, gentle ways.
To listen when they speak, to hold their gaze so true,
To see the world through their eyes, to walk in their shoes.

But shadows sometimes linger, doubt whispers in our hearts,
As life’s demands encroach, and from connection, we part.
We wrestle with our impulses, our fears laid bare and wide,
In the dance of understanding, where love and self collide.

Yet, oh, how sweet the struggle, how beautiful the fight,
To be considerate, to cherish, to remember what is right.
For in the quiet moments, in the gentle giving,
We find the soul’s reflection, the very art of living.

Let us breathe in patience, let us hold each other close,
In this fragile weave of being, the love that we love most.
For the hardest path is worth it, the journey wide and long,
When we choose to be considerate, when we choose to share our song.

Short Verse:

A Heart’s Echo

In the silence of your laughter,
In the shadows of your sigh,
I will weave my thoughts around you,
With every breath, a loving tie.

Jonathan Phelps

Phosphorus, bringer of dawn’s gentle grace,
Illuminate my heart, reveal your embrace.
In the flicker of your flames, let clarity bloom,
Casting out shadows that cling to my room.

Awake, O soft ember, in the hush of the night,
With whispers of warmth that chase away fright.
As time’s fragile stream ebbs, may your glow ever lay
A path through the darkness, to the promise of day.

Each glimmer a promise, each spark a sweet sigh,
Reminding my spirit to reach for the sky.
In your luminous presence, doubts drift and dissolve,
As the essence of hope begins to evolve.

Let your radiant tendrils wrap round my despair,
Drawing me closer to love’s radiant air.
For in the dawn's chorus, in your brilliant array,
I find strength anew, as I greet the new day.

Phosphorus, guide me, through tempest and dream,
In your soft illumination, my heart learns to gleam.
So light up my journey, as I step into dawn,
With you as my beacon, I rise to press on.