Sitting in Your Heart

Sitting in your heart,
I have the most amazing view.
I can see the inner workings of your soul.
A little bit of your rib cage too.

Your body is a work of art.
And as if that weren't enough,
Your mind, how I would love
For it to be mine to pick apart.

Discover what you have discovered.
See the dreams you wish to uncover.
Hear about the past ones
And hope I can be your future lover.

Sitting in your heart
I feel strong as a rock.
The drum beat under my feet
Moves me; but only closer.

Sitting in your heart I find closure
Although this is only the beginning|
I am so sure
That we won't have beef
This relationship will be kosher.

And even if there ever is an ending
From the time of now,
To the time of us bending and breaking
When our hearts have done too much aching.
And our bodies start to crumble from all the quaking,
The end is in sight.
But, in the morning when I'm waking.

I don't want to pack up my bags,
I don't want you to leave.
Let's rewind and replay in slow motion.
Re-find the love again.
I say with my voice shaking
"My heart is yours for the taking.”

And, if you do take it.
Carve it out.
Make a home inside.
Gaze into the wonder
Outside your window.
Would you look at that view?
Now do you see what I see
In you.

It’s powerful.
It's like
Lightning
Striking
Over and over again.
No, this will not be the end.

© 2017, Noah Weaver. All rights reserved.

Own my poetry books
This poem is in my poetry book Garden of Thoughts.

Hope Continues

The ocean is on fire
Doom looms over the horizon
But this morning I woke up
And the sun was still shinin’

Hate, with his brows furrowed in rage
Aims to take with wrath
Love, with her smile softened by peace
Will always have the last laugh

Hope continued marching on
Coursing, causing veins to glow
I am beauty’s witness as I see fall leaves,
buzzing bumbling bees or the occasional rainbow

I’ve often asked
Is this the end?
And Hope always replies
”No, I don’t think so.”

© 2025, Noah Weaver. All rights reserved.

Own my poetry books
This poem is not in a poetry book yet

Last Dancers

I’ll be honest, I am scared.
I don’t know when it happened,
But out of nowhere, no one cared.

No one even cares about putting themselves first.
People don't care if they have it bad
As long as somebody else has it worse.

As long as they're not at the bottom they can play like they're on top.
How did we become so broken?
Why have we let our hearts rot?

Like, congratulations you're ahead,
But the entire pyramid is crumbling to the ground
It all turns to dust when the sun goes down.

How long has it been crazy? Is this a new thing?
Or are we just stuck at the eternal apex of a pendulum’s swing?
Mother Earth is diseased, she has a fever. The water is rising.

There is no more peace, bombs are dropping, our neighbors are dying.
People, we have the potential to be brilliant, we can figure this out.
It's still not too late to stop harming at alarming rates and choose harmony as our route.

I'm going to keep asking questions.
Cause I don’t have all the answers.
But I do know we’ve got to keep going, we’ve got to keep loving, and that we are not the last dancers.

© 2025, Noah Weaver. All rights reserved.

Own my poetry books
This poem is not in a book yet.

Garden of Thoughts

A garden of thoughts
Can be peaceful or deadly,
What you grow matters.

© 2017, Noah Weaver. All rights reserved.

Own my poetry books
This poem is in my poetry book Garden of Thoughts.