Nathaniel A.Wallace

Nathaniel A.Wallace Poems

We Rainy Days have a certain charm about us,
Our pitter-patter is like an orchestra
But We have more players, and instruments
And parts.

Little Daisy, espy:

This river starts somewhere
Goes somewhere – ends somewhere...

I love what I know that I don't know -
‘Tis darkness that gleans us light,
That tree in the distance looks oh so -
Chilled in an autumn sight,

I tire,
Like the grains of sand on a beach -
So lulled and at peace,
My lethargy overcomes

Out on the veranda
Death whispers in my name
Or I to it, see we
Are stark as starch, and deprived

One cannot help but gazing at the stars
Notice their verisimilitude, their dimness,
Lit through the smog from a distance,
Withstanding sympathy for the other effects of

I am from the this-a-cup and that-a-cup
Of lemonade and honeydew -
Betwixt the only remaining
Dried flowers of my childhood

Causality invited me casually
To meet the man, but I have no interest
In being made; he chuckled, and asked if I,
Not everywhere, perceiving triumvirates of old,

On this saints' eve, we exhort ourselves
To the fact: we may not return
From the edge of worlds;
We are not so distant.

Stoke Choke cloak bloke fluke?
Stroll ol' dole knoll, gnome come
"Gone aft agley"

Soap has a place in High Fiction, my dear friends,
Contemporaries, cleaning agents, colleagues - admittedly
It is a slippery fellow, for making out to be such
A balanced base; First, we may take this chance

A skylight being one of the most enjoyable aspects of a library.
(A Prelude to "In the Rain You Called Yourself")

Did I say 'I love you, ' dear?

(A response to "In the Library Skylight")

Though sir, did I ever say 'I love you, '?
I never left nor promised you clear -

If we take the drenched Sakura flowers in the trenches
To be the value of aesthetics,
Under one, laudable, radiant sun

Nothing looks good in the shadow of a mountain, when it's near,
The rolling slopes are minutely covered in trees,
Which are generally the tall, ashen pines, mourning their age -
More slender than the legs of any human, and more fair

The crows are flying in the rain,
There must be oil in their feathers;
The murder rings around the tree,
There must be something there to see.

The Lord of All Things lies in the
Giving giving giving,

Into receivership

Thursday is always rainy - like the name!
My mind gets rereleased in the cool air;
My fingers grow numb in the despondent afternoon
Whether or not there is to do

Is there no noise in space? too bad;
I've always wanted to hear, with visible proportion
The sound of a nation, changing its perspective;
The solar wind, basking in my hair;

Nathaniel A.Wallace Biography

Hi. Please feel free to enjoy the writing. I received education at UBC, which is like a grammar school, except not. Bit of a homebody. Hope the writing is appreciable, and that you enjoy it! :) Have a nice day!)

The Best Poem Of Nathaniel A.Wallace

Canvas Paintings

We Rainy Days have a certain charm about us,
Our pitter-patter is like an orchestra
But We have more players, and instruments
And parts.
Just walk outside to see:
People pushing slowly – past
In and out of perception
And We will Wet you;
Should inconsistency show
Wet-eyed evidence – I swear:
We just – that’s how We fall.
Though wishes of kitschy light
Will shatter into a full gamut
Of thought... theories –
Of guesswork.
Of hate?
No, We do not:
Shining Sun, limelight, dispelling;
They herald our return,
Our “Thanks Ehyeh – come again! ” later
Perhaps the plenipotentiary
May present a portent,
A proposition?
As these structures are impervious –
They cannot be touched
They do not
Yet We still can so:
Drink in our placid positions
As our blood churns this blue-green Earth
That’s blurring, dreary to adamantine
But palpably, perhaps, pool an acceptance... for
When it Rains, it pours.

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