Joshua Thomas

Joshua Thomas Poems

When demons of history haunt your dreams
And tear at your mind through countless seams.
When conscience itself begins wishing to die!
Curse the day when guilt blinds the mind’s eye!
...

Thirty days and thirty nights I cried
I couldn’t stand the thought of how I lied.
Guilt consumed me till I nearly died.
When I thought about you.
...

What is love to you?
My sweet flower.
Played like a fool,
To regain your power.
...

Then

I’ve been thinking of a creature lately
Every night in my dreams.
...

I don't know a god by the peace in the shade,
But I know the devil by the price that I paid.
The cost of a life is the debt on my back.
So follow me, brother, for my soul shaded black.
...

Lives have come, and lives have gone,
I don’t know about a lot, but I know about one.
Come, children, and enjoy the show.
...

Thou love is like the flower bloom,
Beauty present on every petal.
Thy heart blossoms with lusty perfume,
As my lips touch yours in a nestle.
...

This stack of cards,
My lonely life,
Crashes down without regards,
To those simple winds of strife.
...

No river wide, nor mountain can scale
The way that her face, with fear, turned pale
My corpse lying there in the sun
As flies started their rancid fun
...

She enjoyed tearing me apart
A puppet for all to see
Pulling on the strings of my heart
Until the sharp hooks tore free
...

Across our horizons there is a line few cross.
For the love it offers, could mean life or dire loss.
I wanted no sky, no stars, no moon, and no other
Your love’s reply, never to be given to another
...

The Best Poem Of Joshua Thomas

Guilt’s Nature, Guilt’s Lesson

When demons of history haunt your dreams
And tear at your mind through countless seams.
When conscience itself begins wishing to die!
Curse the day when guilt blinds the mind’s eye!

Believing it deserving of such cruel fate,
From acting on a deed bread from vicious hate.
The road of guilt is too easy to follow,
As emotions hide behind masks of Saint Hallow.

Appearing as monsters to their masters or blood to angry hounds,
Making the heart violently race without ever making a sound.
You begin to remember the day of the dark deed past
As Time’s fine line is swiftly cast,

Deep into ancient waters from the Pool of memories
Next to others crowding the depths from vacancies.
Alas! History is found and reeled back to the soul,
And the grief hits you like rumored killers from the Knoll.

Some deal with guilt in silence and cry.
Others get passed with an empty sigh.
Yet few go on and admit (to either friend or preacher)
Only to discover the good of guilt as life’s most haunting teacher.

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