Gerry Legister Poems

My dream went astray in a vision that day
And yet my mind had not gone away,
And none was there to say what they had seen,
All the colours or schemes within that dream.
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What is love? Love is a portrait of art and love is precious.
Love is amazing poetry, simple imagery of alluring beauty,
Love is wonderful presentation filled with nice surprises,
Love is the first duel in the field to conquer honour and duty.
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We make time for what we value most
A time to love before the martyrdom, we live
Near people whom we choose to be close,
Find bonds in the virtues of what we give.
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The broken heart fierce and paraplegic
Spends time with conscious metamorphism,
Estranged and indifferent afraid and optimistic
The beautiful and tragic trails into a frozen chasm.
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Through autumn to winter gooey grey haze
Old trees bend and befriend scattering leaves,
Wayside seeds sown on flora beds to raze
a shelter in cold shadows to quell edgy voices.
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Demeaning words go deep to hide a person from view
A being abused, locked away in a jarring prison,
dwell as a frozen recluse in basins of less value,
wishing the nightmare would go into oblivion.
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The call of your voice drifted by the wind
Sentimental feelings that warms the blood,
Flowing with romance to where the postage send,
Love letters strolling through winter's flood.
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When the last golden sun streaks is vanishing
into clouds under the darken canopy of night.
The shivering dust settles behind the evening,
Cloudy Satire coming with a new dawn of light.
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Illuminating warriors among the illumination of gloom,
Although we are blind to their illustrious testimonies,
History turn pages of adventure into paved mausoleum,
Which mark their colossal traits through the centuries.
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At last, the voice of coal is dead,
Buried lamps carried on the head,
Miners sang the unforgiving dirge,
With fragments of particles emerge,
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