Matthew Holloway Poems

Chaos, Chaos, Chaos and rage
Scream against the quiet of the night
Roar against the ill fitting feeling
That breaks the world in pieces
...

The winter sun may rise
Yet I do not feel it's warmth
Due to the wind blowing bitterly
Upon my face and hands
...

I can pen words of joy
Words of sorrow and love
Lines painting sweet passion
And of despair and nature
...

I see a picture in my heart
Of us both in old age
Sitting quietly on a beach
Hand in hand, almost as one
...

That time of year has returned
Where daylight is sparse
And the houses are lit
In a festive display
...

Hark, hark I hear it
Let me take your hand
And dance, dance, dance
As a foolish man may ever be
...

The town is quiet, empty
Street lights cast shadows
...

As a writer and a reader
Of a craft I claim as an art
I ask a question, the question
Many of my like have asked before
...

Perhaps you don't realise
Or I fail to make it clear
But There is one thing forever constant
And that is me wanting you
...

The miner-bird
Appears content in his little world
Watching beyond the bars and whistling
Wanting for nothing except
...