Here are a few poems I have had published over the years…

The following poem was included in a poetry anthology published by a poetry publishing house in London. The anthology is entitled “Shattered Illusions” and was released Spring 2006.


Love find the shards
that cut and shred my trust.
Encompass and hold
the jagged pieces that bleed.
Wince as the wound
deepens and progresses
believe that you can stop it.

Hold me tight against the heat
generated between souls.
Hold me until we melt together
closing the rift
that has always been
within my troubled heart
believe that you can heal me.

~ Nikki Anne Schmutz


The following poem won 1st place winner – Trading Moon Poetry contest Summer 2006


What I Am

I’m tired
Tired of everything I am
Tired of thinking of what I could be
Tired of believing that I’ll make it there one day

I’m wasted
Wasted by every word
Wasted by defending my worth
Wasted by wanting to trust and not being able

I’m alone
Alone with my thoughts
Alone with an empty, lonely soul
Alone despite all the others that surround me

I’m empty
Empty of life
Empty of feelings within
Empty in all the places I wish I could fill

I’m fighting
Fighting the years
Fighting the scraps of fears
Fighting the tears that make the river within

I’m longing
Longing for love
Longing for a moment I can believe in

I’m dying
Dying in my soul
Dying in an immense wilderness
Dying from a thirst I can’t quite quench

I’m flying
Flying far away
Flying far into the black
Flying farther than the pin pricks of stars

~ Nikki Anne Schmutz


The following poem was published on an online horror website back in 2007 – it no longer exists.


Landscape of Blood

Mangled flesh, landscapes of blood
painted by the unknowing, would
be ripped and torn alongside the road
traveled by the wounded soul.
The fiercest storm brews in the sky
as the stealthy birds of prey fly;
striking with the bolts of lightning
clutching claws, their call; frightening.
There are drops of red, instead of rain
falling from the heavenly veins;
pooling crimson within the cracks
sinking down, no chance to refract
upon the street between the living and the dead;
where empty souls look to be fed.
Pools of water turned to wine,
on which the evil spirits dine.
It is the blood of those who came before;
those who could not settle the score,
those who died at the hand of rage,
those who stood upon the stage
of life, and were paraded about
stripped and shown to the world without
a morsel of pride, only humility
to be shown, and to finally leave.
Leave their body empty and cold,
only to find their soul was sold.
Sold to the highest bidder, for merely a cent
to the murderer of the lost and of the innocent.

~ Nikki Anne Schmutz


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