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Some new works

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posted on Jan, 6 2005 @ 06:15 PM
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Here's some poems that I've written while gone, just a couple that I'd like to share (mainly seeing as the others are on my second computer =/)

"Gardens of Rose"

Walking alone in the wee hours of morn,
The rain sifting through; the skies adorn,

Stumbling upon, a small patch of weed,
There in the center, lies a small seed,

And on the morn, the rain became a shower,
And on the morn, the seed became a flower,

And soon in the wind, up came a rose,
I laid eyes upon it, and I instantly froze.

It was perfect; its color of red,
The dress of a girl, not one missing thread,

It blew in the wind, as if in a dance,
I stared at it long, I dozed in a trance,

Yet soon I awoke; the wind blew it to me,
The red was close now; a beauty to see,

I knew what heaven was; what perfection could be,
An angel of God, no one dare disagree,

And then one day, I accidentally pricked the rose,
I shattered my hopes, that I suppose,

Yet soon it grew back, and it happened thrice more,
Every time even better; more beauty than before,

Looking at that rose, on that bright summer day,
We had survived the trials, tribulations that lay,

And at that moment, I looked and I knew,
I smiled and cried, managing a subtle,
“I love you”

________________

"Ignorance"

For what means these words, these ones that we are taught,
Drilled into our minds, yet so often forgot?
What means morals, values, cares, and belief?
For when good fights for evil; police for the thief?
However in these days I picture, I capture them solid,
To imagine a world, where hypocrites nay squalid,
Alas failing myself to this orgy of dreaming,
When I picture reality, I end myself screaming,
End with walking aligned, edging this great cliff,
Drawing the line, of what is sanity; for only if,
I could escape from this place, to the edge and return,
I would go to a place, where water floats and burn,
Yet then return to this place, this harsh reality of life,
To only understand, the simple meanings of strife?
Yet I yearn for more, after those lucid illusions,
So I come to this answer, the conclusion of conclusions,
There is this place, a very beautiful one,
A grassy; perfect place that is none,
So I find myself wondering, what should I do?
I find myself questioning, my trust goes to who?
I walk along this edge, this beautiful, serene little rift,
If I jumped - what would happen - would I fall or would I drift?
Ever the curious, I find myself in the most interesting of places,
One where reality mixes with dreaming; men’s feet into faces,
And in the end, I draw sanity from this dysfunctional utopia,
But perhaps that is life - this nonchalant cornucopia?
Alas failing myself to this orgy of dreaming,
When I picture reality, I end myself screaming.
Written a page, signed with my virgin tears,
Flashing before me, my long lasted years,
So here I am writing, this note signed with blood,
Cruelties of the world Underneath the red flood.

_______

And finally, my favorite:

"A Soldier's Prayer"

Laying beside, a dying out fire,
The night grows dark, the smoke grows higher,

The man lays looking; blessed in pain,
The scars run deep; the motive kept sane,

Asleep outside; under night’s sky,
Thinking of old; remembering why,

So many questions; yet so little answers,
He was like the remedy, to so many cancers,

Yet at day’s end, when all grows quiet,
He thinks about peace and about riot,

And the man lays torn; wretched in tears,
And the man lays scorn; bleeding from spears,

More literally than most would think,
This man lays still, begging to drink,

The man wakes now, squinting ‘round him,
Gasped and shocked; hinting abound him,

Allies and foes; mingled together,
Souls and demons; above and nether,

The man finds a book, burnt out and charred,
Picking it up; the cross laid scarred,

Opening it up, in all the pain and struggle,
It was as if a thief had tried to smuggle,

Yet he found a passage; drawing remorse,
He began to speak; his voice drawn coarse,

I walk through the valley; the shadow of death,
I fear no evil; for your hand gives breath.

And though it brings evil; great days of strife,
I fear no evil; for your hand gives life.

=]

-wD




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