Matthew Holloway Poems

It was perhaps four or five
In the morning as soft light
Broke through the window drapes
We lay together naked half asleep
...

I feel the wind upon my face
And brightness of the morning sun
I taste the sweet of the morning dew
And in all I hear a song
...

I take the evening
Imprison it for my own
I drink deep intoxication
Feel the fire of my rage
...

It is to love I awaken
As it was to which I slept
To dream and to aspire
To live and face death
...

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
...