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2009-06-12 10:00:25
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My Old Poetry



Here can be found all the in-between stuff, some good and a few not so good. Lots of Daily Poems here; in fact some of these are personal favorites :) Enjoy 'em.


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Sing Me a Song
Third Daily Poem Feature. (6/28/2005)

Sing me a song of love and of hate,
Of the tales that have never been told,
Of bravery, heroes, and enemies great
And the Champions of old.

Sing me a song of gold and of land,
Of pirates, princes and thieves,
Of forests wide and desert sands
And love beneath the linden trees.

Sing for me songs of wars and of soldiers,
Of deaths that will never be;
Tell me the tales, sir, of where you have been,
Of the things that I shall never see.


To Challenge the Sun
DP #6 (5/20/2006)

As I was walking, pacing in the heat,
Through the desert sands and concrete city streets
That millions each day toil down
Like insects—ants, carrying their loads
Advancing, just as industry would have it,
To their Queen—
I noticed something odd.
A women, dress in summer-like apparel
(just as one would see most any women wearing),
Carrying a bright umbrella, though not a cloud was seen,
And it cast an odd illusion of a shadow—
A false shadow—
From the Sun.
As it were (and as such strange a sight this was)
I glanced up at Its warmth that is never asked for
(Yet never fails to give)
And it seemed that I was nearly blinded by its light.
What treachery this is!
How could It be so cruel to us poor mortals upon this Earth?
And yet…
And yet—after I had looked down forward at the women,
Still walking proudly across the never-ending avenues—
I realized yet another curious thing.
I once again glanced up at the Sun
(this time, of course, aware of it’s might and unwavering vanity)
And then back towards said women.
An umbrella…
How dare she shelter herself from such an awesome power?
What gave her the right to disregard its strength?
How could such a life-giving force be so challenged?
I wondered this, and suddenly I noticed—
I stood stopped in my thoughts
Beneath a shading tree.


My Journey

Morning dawns.
I look upon it as I pace this dusty road,
Wondering where I must go,
Why there is no one to stop me,
To hold me back, like in all the stories.
The stories….
I find myself again,
Now wondering where those stories lead,
Reminding myself that they were foreign,
Full of darkness,
And of danger,
And of the hope and faith that pulled them through.
Endless deep, black skies—
It is night;
I am alone now.
Loneliness finds me here,
Though what I am longing for,
I know not.
I hear my father speaking:
“All days leads from one day,
That much you must know.”
But you cannot change what’s over,
Only where you go.

I now see two roads apart:
One worn down and trodden over,
Barren and strange and cruel,
Yet promising by travel of others;
The other full of leaves like gold,
Sheltered by trees that cover the pale sun,
Forbidding and equally dangerous,
Branches clinging like animals at fresh meat.
I stop and face the empty path:
Which to choose?
Both seem so different and yet the same;
One leads to only emptiness,
The other leads to gold.
But in my heart I wonder,
Which one shall lead me true?
The road that leads to nowhere
Or the road that leads me home?

The day is now long past,
The end of this long journey,
But where my heart should fill with hope,
There is only death.


My Dream

I think of a place that lingers in my mind,
That comes and goes to follow with the tide.
Where the memories drift on carefully by;
Where the sea seems to match the sky.
Where the evening flowers do reside;
Where the shining Moon no longer hides.
Where sunlight glints upon the sea;
Where I can reflect on knowledge gleaned.
Where there is a place for every being;
Where seeing is not believing—but believing seeing.
Where gallant chariots race among the clouds;
Where trees are the only and most glorious of sounds.
Where faeries dance upon the leaves and grass;
Where I walk down a path that none have passed.
Where I can trace the path of every star;
But above all else, I dream of where you are.


Jeweled Raindrops
Daily Poem #7 (7/28/2006)

The raindrops fall around my head,
Upon the flowers and their bed.
Upon the elder linden trees,
And sliding off the younger leaves.
From my eyes and down my face,
Like tiny rivulets of lace.
Into my hands and then the ground
Where you now lie, asleep and sound.
I look up at gray-covered blue,
And know the raindrops search for you.
These jeweled raindrops I’d forgot,
And seek a peace that’s seldom sought.


The Carousel
Meh...that's all I gotta say...meh...

I witnessed death on a carousel,
A carousel of gold,
Of dancing beasts and worthless treats
And stories often told.

They wheeled about a steady track
As passersby looked on
Upon the falsehood of release
With eyes that never shone.

Cycling through the strangest things
And lowest creatures captured,
The ones that once gave in their reigns
No longer giving rapture.

The unicorn with silver hair
That in pride threw out its mane
Now holds its horn against the ground—
A narcissist without a name.

A swan whose curve of neck proclaimed
A sweetness to caress
Now sits humbly and worn,
Its back fading to rust.

And the grandest creature of them all,
The ruler of all things,
With golden mane and sharpest fangs
That seemed truly for a king,

The great Lion that perches there
Reared back upon its feet
A silent roar torn from its throat
And seemed to not be beat.

But if one could seem him now,
Hunched down upon its stand,
One would see what this place has become,
The cruelest in all the land.


Dance of the Rain Children
5th DP winner that got me into the Master Poets (3/31/2006)

The clouds that once were drawn asunder
Close once more while lightning falls,
And thus starts the dance of thunder.

Pouring rain the thunder calls,
Melting through the silent earth–
I stare through their sultry walls.

Sitting by my ample hearth,
Watching drops of falling rain,
Like myriad ships returned to berth,

I think of each as souls long gone
That drop from an empty sky
And the ships that carry them as pawns

Off into an endless night,
Away from shadows and their plights–
Off into the endless night.


The Ancient Pastime

He who wins knows much of fame
And life fit for the few–
But he who fails this grotesque game
Leaves all he ever knew.
The stage is set for those unblessed–
Or perhaps the insubordinate.
Either plays in the Gods’ test
As two parts coordinate.
Armed with nought but sword and shield
And perhaps a dying name,
They go against each other here
In this foolish petty play
Where men devolve to nought but beasts
In this, the fatal dance;
Where the Gods decide who is released
And who is brought to lance.
The greatest pastime ever seen
In the grave, the Coliseum,
Now holds the secret lives its gleaned
In its endless mausoleum.


The Waiting
Daily Poem #4 (1/27/2006)

Upon the golden shore of shards of dreams,
Where the bluest of seas meets the world
And a lighthouse of the purest marble stands,
Watching and looking upon those lost to guide them home,
She waits for one such voyager—
A wayfarer long gone and yet just as close as ever,
Never ceasing to follow the pale, faint light
That one day he knows shall lead him
To his beloved.


Thoughts
This is a personal poem--meaning I will not be entering it to the Daily Poem--but I've decided to post it here; comments equally excepted :)

Why do I weep?
Is it from fear?
Fear that when I pass from this world,
Like so many others before me,
I will not be remembered?
Is it perhaps that the strains of life
Have finally begun to weigh down
Upon my very soul?
My eyes are tired,
My mind weary,
My body weak and lame,
And all there is is the soft strokes of false granite
Upon a sheet of paper that none shall remember.
And yet…

I continue writing.
There may be no other way to suppress the fear
And the hurt
Except to keep moving.
But then why do I weep?
I am content with my life, I know.
And yet I mourn for a cause I cannot understand.
In a world that was once said was wonderful,
I still write in this false granite—
All is false,
All is dark,
All shall fade away before the ones who can right it
Ever even hear its cry for help.
And now I weep.
I weep for this world,
For the end of man,
For the end of all days.


For What It’s Worth
DP #8 (12/21/2006)

I have outrun the sun,
Disappearing over the horizon,
As if I had wings for feet.
I have flown to the clouds
And touched the surface of the moon,
Memorizing every crater.
I have dived down to the coldest depths
Of the bluest ocean
And gathered pearls of angelic white—
But for what it’s worth, I’m only human.

I have seen the greatest of pyramids,
Still makeshift and unbuilt,
The toils of the land for their creation.
I have witnessed the life of Caesar,
Followed in his wake of fortunes
And wept for his betrayed soul.
I have seen the universe from above,
Looked down upon our world,
And laughed at it’s infinitesimal size—
Yet for what it’s worth, I’ve seen nothing.

I have seen death, but also life—
A child staring, smiling at me
With an unadulterated innocence.
I have held the hand of another,
Walked out into the rain,
And brought them back.
I have been cleansed
With the shower of another’s kisses
Raining down upon my face…

And for what it’s worth, I have been given
All I could ever ask this world to give.


Whilst the Trees Sleep
Daily Poem #11 (8/04/2007)

Leaves of the purest gold are falling,
Breeze from across the shores are calling,
Beckoning the Gods to earth,
Solemn times now filled with mirth.
Death is a stranger to the land,
Life a thing shared hand-in-hand.
Victory achieved by only one:
A rarity looked down upon.
Waves of pearly foam that rush
To the shore, but never crush.
In this place where angels sing
And happiness floats by on wings.
Whilst the trees stand still and sleep
Carrying knowledge never reaped.
A world of peaceful truancy
Of once known simple wisdom gleaned.

And now the leaves have crumpled grey,
As the trees begin to sway…
The faintest whisperings pass by
Unheard by all but butterflies,
Caught in the silk of a spider’s weave
As the angels weep with wisdom's grief.



My Little Warehouse
DP #9 (3/21/2007)

In the corner of my mind
There lies a warehouse.

In the warehouse
Is a hall, and in the hall
There is a drawer.
In that drawer there is a file
And behind that file is a key.
The key can open just one door—
Turn, click, creak
And in the room is darkness.
Flip—lights illuminate the dusty land
Never touched by human hands.
Just off to the left
And a little to the side,
Beneath my little window
That shows the world outside,
There is a desk.
Beneath a little cup of tin
And a photo of the sea,
Golden, tiny, an antique,
Is my little secret key.
In the desk there is a drawer
To be opened by that little key,
And in the drawer there is
A little box.
In this box there is a little crystal
Tied to a little chain.

Here, in the most secret places of my mind,
Where none but I can ever go,
That only I will ever know,
Lies my purest little soul.



The Toy Soldier

The little toy soldier that sits by himself
In a plastic red box on the top of the shelf
Looks down at the other used toys from above
And wonders if being on top is enough.

The bike that they’d bought Him the Christmas before
Sits shining like new to the side of the door.
And that ball that He rolls back and forth everyday
Rests on His bed, always ready for play.

The cars and the trucks that are scattered about–
Not only in His room, but all through the house–
And the little toy super-heros, worn down over time,
And the miniature bank filled with pennies and dimes.

The soldier looks down with a smug little grin,
But suddenly feels rather cheated by Him–
Just a little toy soldier that sits by himself
In that small lonely box on the top of the shelf.


The King

There was a time when I was King.
My father spoke to me and said,
"Love all your people and you country
More than you could love yourself
And lead them not into a world of tyranny."
I obeyed his words at first,
Being and young and submissive under his strong gaze,
And throughout the land there was peace.

But I grew wise beyond my years,
Renowned for my knowledge and the many victories.
These people--my people--
They thought themselves all equal, even to me?
Surely not?
The poor in the streets and the rich in their beds
And I on my throne.
Logic told me that they must be equal in some matter
To keep such calm and peace;
And so I took all, ruled all, and grew mighty
With their opression.

With my father's last breath,
He spoke to me again, and said,
"Thou art human, Tzaran,."
He said it so truthfully,
as anyone with nothing left to lose would say,
And yet it was not a compliment at all--
It was not to say I had a heart.

For years I did not sleep.
I am human, my mind repeated relentlessly,
A human with such a mind as to have no heart.
As I stood still in my own realm apart from all others,
My people starved, murdered, and thieved,
And yet through it all I cared not.
I let the world take me and be taken itself,
For in my heart's absence
The world had turned and died,
And my soul along with it.


Time to Act
I'm getting more into the abstract stuff; nevertheless, I rather like this one :)

Tick, tock,
Tick, tock—

Down the rabbit hole,
Down, down, down.
Don’t trust the trees,
They know only lies;
Follow the way
The black crow flies.
Over the river, through the wood,
Just up the hill and round the bend—
Here comes he—
Run and hide,
Break and bend.
Tick, tock,
Hurry, hurry,
Don’t be late.

The Cheshire cat knows all,
But which way is truth?
Left, right, left, right,
Cast down, hauled up,
Fortune and fame,
Blood and Money—
All the same, all the same.
Tick, tock,
Not much time.

The moon an eye,
The sky his face,
And only the mountains
Touch it.
So close,
So far—
Does it matter?
We all sail as one
But the mast has fallen;
There’s no crow’s nest.
He is coming.
Tick, tock.

Rise up,
Above the clouds,
Above all else,
And nothing else matters.
Beware the Moon and all its lies.
Never give up,
Do what is just,
Think not of the resistance
But of the cause.
The cause, the cause,
Remember the cause.
But hurry—
Tick, tock…
Hurry, hurry—

Blackness.


Asylum Rage
Not positive what I think about this one yet...input please :)

Screaming, screaming,
Sleeping, dreaming.

The coldest cage is not of steel
But really in our minds.
We’re only trapped by what we feel
And what lies deep inside.
For in those depths the Monster hides,
He sleeps, He takes, He waits,
And slowly He will thieve our minds
And leave none of the bait.
Rattle, rattle,
War and battle.

This mental war has now begun
And we are armed with naught,
While He stomps out against his drums
A march of Death and rot.
Burial of the haunted one.
Whose mind has long deceased.
Who needed only wield his guns
So He might be appeased.
Shatter, shatter,
Broken, battered.

And from the Beast it had been said:
“From Satan's Pit I hail
And in this land I have emerged
To crush all in this gale."
And now the man is nearly dying,
Broken, shattered, and defying,
Yet we still see that he is trying–
Despite that monstrous Beast.


To Fly and to Fall
DP #10 (6/18/2007)

I was flying
 Through a sky of empty clouds
  With the wings upon my back
   And the city below.
I was laughing
 So hard my chest hurts terribly
  But then I didn’t care,
   I just smiled at them all.
There were people
 All around me, with me,
  Yet I couldn’t see them well
   But for the rushing wind.
Maybe they fly too.
 Maybe we’re all flying together
  All around the world,
   So happy and so free.
I closed my eyes.
 So far above the ground
  Yet I feel a cold hard presence
   Weighing down upon me.
Such cruel pain now
 Such torment and evil that
  Stains these purest wings black and red
   With ash and blood and shadow…

I’m on the ground now
     This cold, cruel, unforgiving ground.
  I cannot move. My arms seem tangled.
The people are still here,
     Yet I still cannot see their faces.
He asks, “Are you alright, miss?”
    I try to smile—of course I’m alright.
   I soared through the sky, so high, so far
Where nothing’s the same as it was before.
      I see a face now, but it is twisted and dark.
  It says, “Come, child.” I smile and follow
   To where I shall fly forever, unlike all the others
     Who have never known happiness,
  And never will.
But in truth, we’re all flying,
 Flying toward redemption and happiness,
  But one must always remember—
   In order to fly, one must first know how to fall.


The Soldier

They wonder why I’m scared
And they wonder why I weep.
They wonder how I lost my eye
And wonder why I drink.
They wonder what I’m doing there
While the rest are on their own,
Fighting others’ battles
While still knowing they’re alone.
They wonder why I never speak
And why I never leave,
Yet all I want is a bit of peace,
For the truth they’d never believe.
The man who once stood as a God
Has crumbled to the ground,
And where once I never shed a tear,
Now unrestrained, I cry aloud.
I know I should be back with them,
I know I should support the cause,
I know the people look to me,
And I know that there are laws.
But these people here that whisper now
And wonder why I’m not there
Have done nothing like all I have done—
And I wonder why I care.


Lonely Days

In this darkness I confide,
For it keeps me by and by
Safe inside this shell that I
Forever more shall there abide.
Protected from the roaring tide,
Severing all strands and ties
And with myself sit side by side
Until the time the world shall die--
Forever till the end of days.



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