Blue and empty,
The night devoid of you.
I speak to other worlds
In my walks beside the lake.
...
The unseeing waxwing which once was slain
By the false azure of the windowpane
Has picked up his shadow and carried on
Past the wilderness of that crystal lawn.
...
I often wonder what is beyond life.
Is there no hope beyond this deadly strife?
Must our death come bearing its arctic knife?
Does that icy fist make your trembling rife?
...
I travel ever more into an endless world of abyss,
Seeking to find any color,
Or simply seeking to fathom the darkness,
To cut apart its dark logic
...
Setting forth on a rugged journey,
Feelings bottled in my chest like
Lost treasures of forgotten cultures,
I look deep within and find no
...
O, wonderful spirit!
Have you come to inspire me?
Or have you come for my soul?
I bow in thine presence,
...
All my years I regret
The women I cannot forget,
The words from ones never known,
And those I wounded to the bone.
...
The faces passing me in the night,
All these streaks of white
Turning pink with the cold,
As I struggle to the bus stop
...
In the heat of summer,
As the warmth makes me sweat,
I think of our winters
And the clouds greyly set.
...
We gave him a crown,
And with nary a frown,
He took up the golden sceptre.
His robe was tattered,
...
On we rode through winters long, snows knee-deep,
Lands unknown and uncharted-the clouds cried,
Grey and dull. Lost in trees and limbs that weep,
We roamed fields in circles where black roses died.
...
I'd like to think I've been a poet for a long time, although that's debatable. At any rate, I'm a writer of many things: fiction, essays, philosophy, and obviously poetry. I hail from southeastern Missouri, a section of the world that not suprisingly doesn't produce many poets. I'd like to think that my work is fairly mature for a twenty-two year old, but I guess time will tell on that matter. I hope you enjoy my poetry.)
(to Be Read While Listening To Beethoven’s “moonlight Sonata”)
Blue and empty,
The night devoid of you.
I speak to other worlds
In my walks beside the lake.
The blue, blue waters are crystal clear,
A deep velvet blue in the twilight.
She is gone,
Another world an eternity away.
No longer will our starry nights end
With goose bumps all around,
No rush to the house to get warm
Beneath wool blankets pulled high.
The pond where the ducks swim
Is deserted at night.
A feeling of something lost
Strikes me, guilt of things undone.
The streetlights give a faint glow
To the nocturnal world.
Melancholy through the night,
As hours pass, in earthly limbo.
I cannot imagine an end to night.
I find a bench and sit,
To thoughts of her voice,
Which life as I walk again.
Read all of them- absolutely impossible for me to pick a favourite, all your work is mature and well-meaning, a pleasure to read. 'Holocaust' struck me particularly- I know you cant have experienced it, but those three lines summed up the loss so well it is hard to believe you dont 'hail from' 1940s Poland. Good to see another Latin speaker as well. Asolutely beautiful work, keep it up. Effie. xx