The sun burst from the river flowing, not love that caught my eye. The days I cursed somehow inside did treasure, Our love that made me cry. I need you here, why are you there? How can you not care? Enable this void while I walk a highway of troubled souls. Bring the light ofContinue reading “Is There Really Now No You and Me”
Tag Archives: Poetry
Real World
I’m struck still where I stand, as the low Autumn sun shines bright, in all Gods glory and wonder. As I take in such frightening beauty, on my future, I ponder. On this hill like my life, I hit a blind summit. Feelings of the past are sad. Though I trust there’s increased beauty downContinue reading “Real World”
Her
The suns light beams through the branches of the tree tunnel you entered. Like her, beautiful! Like your lies you invented. She smiled as the birds were singing. Fantasied, as in the distance the same church bells as today, ringing. Into her life you came. Feeding and living from her pain. Freedom, no longer waiting.Continue reading “Her”
The Blade
I guess I was just kid back then. But I now know why you hated me so much. ‘My weak mind.’ It coudn’t have made sense to a man like you. It’s hard still now to say aloud, that you once made me cry. I didn’t realise what you were doing. Maybe I still don’t.Continue reading “The Blade”
Into The Light
From obscure realms the whisper of my conscience mutated into screaming. Only gathering my cross carrying the load when the soul cried out for meaning. As the sun I arose the hero of the day, victorious from the dark night’s fight. Beaming away insanity, like a baby emerging into the light.
Butterfly
The violins cry out for cultural identity. As bullets still fly from klashnikov’s. “The cold is coming.” Sounds the whispers of suicidal writers. Innocence is manipulated, developed, then kills. Released from hate. The defiance, awe inspiring. As caterpillar to butterfly, let the metamorphosis happen. In a white stoned building I see lions in crowns movingContinue reading “Butterfly”
whole
my spirit meets my body when I pick up my pen.
Dead In The Water
My spirit meets my body when I pick up this pen. Does truth always win or should I go again? The beat goes on, as I watch the man in the Union Jack sing. I picture Nietzsche dancing and dream I am a King. It’s once again just me and you. So this poem I’llContinue reading “Dead In The Water”
Alone
Where we went he was never too far behind. Lurking in the shadows, attacking in the night. I cannot drink the blood of snakes and survive. Only you, can search your own soul. In his pain Cain was rejected, I could never reject you. Then he killed his own ideal, killing everything. I want moreContinue reading “Alone”
I Wonder
There’s a light in your eyes. Your soul, in this life has not yet died. Though how many times, have you pondered it, and cried? We are fallen fruit of the same tree. I hope God forgives as He looks down tonight, on you and me. Life it has its battles, this is your war.Continue reading “I Wonder”
Smith Shine Poetry 