Biography of Michael Ernst
I'm no poet, just life things floating about in my head.Closer to lyrics then poetry, lifes a song. Pent up ghosts, inside for too long. Many on this site will know what I'm talking about.
Michael Ernst Poems
Loss it seems is the worst kind of sorrow Loss of dreams, the dreams of tomorrow Loss of the moments you two should have shared Loss of opportunities to show her you cared
Lost my wife Lost my best friend Lost my lover where will it end
Thoughts Of You
I thought of you with love today But that is nothing new I thought about you yesterday And the days before that too
She filled my world with sunshine I thanked her with clouds of rain She made me feel complete and loved I failed for her to do the same
She only wanted a little.. A little of my time A little of my attention
How I long to feel the waves of your love crashing upon the shores of my soul again. Washing and smoothing the rippled sands of my internal strife, leaving me speechless, stunned at how your every word and movement penetrates me, filling my world with wonder and beauty.
Heaven In Hell
I know little of God or the Devil Though I've often heard the tale How a good soul rises on angelic wings Or a sinner descends pleading for mercy to no avail
Back To 1969
Folks think I can fix or build most anything Yeah, I have that reputation its true But its really just their misconception Others tend to think higher of me than I do
Tell her that you miss her Tell her that you love her Tell her that she's the only one
All Of Me
This body, where do I start? Yes, there's much more to it then just this broken heart This hair on my head, it misses your fingers running through
Broke Her Heart
She gave me her trust So I broke her heart She gave me her dreams So I broke her heart
First And Last
He may have her now But.... I saw her first
Fear Not My Love
Fear not my love Take me back into your heart Fear not my love Let us make a fresh start
Excuse me. Can you help me? I have a few questions. Do you have a minute? What is love?
On silver wings 35,000 feet closer to the sun, I see below me a river
Where does it come from?
Where does it go?
It knows not why it flows.. only that it does
winding, churning, moving bits of sand from here to there
From up here it looks contented, peaceful
But somewhere down there it rages against its banks,
seaching for something not knowing what or why,