Simon Miller

Simon Miller Poems


From the innocent infant,
To the ages of elders,
We are never enough alone.

What Is Man?

What is man, that thou art mindful of him?
and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels,
and hast crowned him with glory and honour.

Life Of Iron

A sword in hand
A foe before me
The din of battle
The taste of blood


I stand here
With nothing
Stripped of all
My humanity,

A Love Struck Lament: To One Far Away

Oh, my angel, if life was half as sweet
As the time I spend by your lovely side!
Life’s challenges I would willingly meet,
Made easier when you with me abide.

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