Poems

When you are happy
or when you are in a lovely...

I'll be right beside you
Comfort you will find.

If you need a love,
or a loving helpful candy...

I'll be right here for you,
I truly understand.

I'LL BE HERE FOR YOU

Empty and Broken

The Silence Fills me

Not a word is spoken

Penetrated by my mastered art

A chained butterfly

Longing to be free of my part

A butterfly cannot be kept in chains

Free the external soul

The external is all that remains

Empty and borken

The silence fills me

He hides omnisciently in the shadows,

mischevious eyes shifting, glowing, boring

a hole straight into your heart.

He's never been correctly described

though many have tried.

not a fairy, pixie, gremlin or demon

but Cupid's counterpart, Mab's minion, a winged imp

with a bristly snout and coriaceous wings.

 

He scuttles around and

no one is safe;

no armour can withstand his wicked javelin.

when He passes across your eyes

          your vision is distorted.

The days I'll never forget,
playing on the willow tree.
Fantasizing over a world,
not meant to be.

Just a couple of children,
playing in a tree.
Dreams of 'mommy and daddy',
a whole big family.

Days when we were just so young,
oh so carefree.
Something not to forget,
about you and about me.

To him,
Music was more than noise.
It flowed through him,
He breathed it,
He lived it.
His head whirled with music,
Only he could hear.
He sat at an empty desk,
In his empty room,
While music flew through his filling head.

His hands tapped his desk,
Wind whistling,
Birds singing,
Front door slaming.
A woman calls out,
For her only son.
He looks up, unmoving.

Rising smoke above the clouds,
the fire below raging in caves.
Sparks that bounce off rocks and shells,
I can tell that this is some kind of hell.

My mind won't stay away from you,
so here I am in my personal hell.
Months go by and still I can't change,
it's just something I've got to take.

I miss the days when you held my hand,
this is the hell I cannot stand.
Sometimes I want you here,
but I can see you won't come back.

A poem in the style of Edgar Allen Poe

‘Neath jeering trees of seeping mould, listen close to my tale untold

Years I've starved living amongst curiously old trees

To acquire a plum safe for eating, a mocking chance so fleeting,

My heart began greedily cheating, cheating life for porridge warm

With that sweet wafting smell, beckoning me to implore

While creeping cross their cabin floor

Once upon a sunrise's drizzle, I stumbled upon the empty home of a grizzle

Have I done something wrong
That you leave me so long?
Have I pushed you away
By craving your stay?

‘Cause if I have not…
Your voice that was warm
To my lonely heart
Must have turned to cold stone
And forgotten my name

For be I just friend
Or lover to be
This silence of yours

Is sorrow to me