Poems

Here are some poems I've written over the years, they aren't that good, but I sort of like the way they sound. Enjoy.

Legacy

Of war and peace, shall I speak, Of when darkness was upon us,

Keeping the light at bay, Only one true of soul, may, the gods willing,

Injustice and greed, fight as say,

For so shall the mighty speak,

And so shall the meek, When thy foes meet thy blade,

Then they shall see, The light that you seek.



The light that you seek,

So pure, bold everlasting,

Follow the light and thy shall see,

The life that ye seek.



And when the war has ended, Neither one nor the other,

May leave the grounds in peace, For as it has been marked, as thy blade,

The mark of the fallen, the mark of death, Then try as thy will, still shall be marked by blood,

Only to leave the light behind.



Fear not the Reaper,

Lest thy fear thyself,

Fear not thy fear,

Lest thy fear for thy soul,

For fear not thy soul,

As the light thy soul seeks,

The life thy seek.



Then, finally, As thy enemy, looms ahead,

Alone, as you are, Face to face, foe to foe, No gesture of salute,

Striking hard and fast,

Lest you lose the battle, And as blades cross, You see in the other’s eyes,

The light that you seek,

As so does he notice it in yours, Finally to come, to realise, all past errors,

That in all men of mortal race, Ever doomed to search out,

The light that each of us seek, The life that you seek.

 

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This is the life.

This is the life,

Everyone has to be somewhere, I am here …, Stuck in a dream.

The pressure of dreams is the killer …, of dreams. And it only gets harder.



Time…,

Time is the monster,

All of us fight the same monster … to win.

I scream I can’t breath,

Fearing that worry will trigger … all my fears.

And it only gets harder.



How did it get so serious?

How did I get so serious?

This is my life.

 

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Love, Life and Death

This living hand, now warm and capable,

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold,

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights,

That thou wouldn’t wish thine own heart dry of blood,

So in my veins red life might stream again, and thee be conscience-calmed- see here it is,

I hold it towards you.



Fair maiden,

Given towards me in youth, Willing, loving and caring,

Forever, Shall thy love chill my fevered days,

And thy love warm my frozen bones at cold night,

Only so shall my blood flow, Rich, thick, red over yours,

For only in death shall we part, Our separate ways.



Though long drained this red blood, Still shall my love be forever longing,

Stain shall your chest, thy breast where thy heart beats, Every drop living agony,

As living agony shall be every drop, Still shall I look forward,

Towards the light, and night, When in love I came, so shall in love we leave,

And none shall intervene, As it has been granted by the gods,

A boon, a gift, Everlasting love.



So shall I speak, For my lover ever to seek,

Far and wide has my search a longing, For love ever immortal, and death ever lasting,

And for I shall find you, fair maiden, Even if, for reason, shall thou leave for Hades call,

Come shall the Grimm Reaper, scythe a buckled, And yet shall I stand my ground, in defiance.



Follow you I shall, follow the light,

Of day, of night shall the darkness come,

And I shall embrace it, as a lover will,

Only to catch a glimpse of you,

Forever still,

Held by death’s cold fingers, calmed of the plague of this life,

Then only shall I,

Return.

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Time

Time.

As it fades trough the void

Like sand in an hourglass, Fluid, fast and unstoppable,

Making the will be, was, flowing onwards forever, Time, like blood,

The essence of life, The bringer of death, The taker of life.

 

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Last Supper

I sat natural as can be for dinner, you see. I raised the glass to my lips,

As poison burned, on my tongue, I guzzled it, not taking sips, not caring if I’ve eered',

it seemed as though it stung. I’m not really sure, Next an apple, just for taste, blood red in this case,

Each bite in despair, fading from view, Then I heard it, post haste,

Coming from nowhere, a cry, a call, howl. A dark shadow.



Hark see I thee, waiting, "For me, if not who else?" said the cold voice,

Come and I shall take ye through, Mind not this scythe, it's naught for show.

As he stabbed me with his scalpel *(optional line)



Fraid as I was, overcame by curiosity, Moved closer I to this shadow cloaked figure,

And asked, "Sir, could it be, you ment' me? By any chance, I, waiting for thee?"



"Oh yes, oh yes, you wait for naught, t'was me."

"Dear sir, what of you and your person, just who may ye be?"

I asked, courage anewed as he sat his scythe down, wearily.

Glancing at his hood, i ventured, "The Tax Man, mayhap?"

"Oh my, oh my, this won't do, not at all, obscene as I am, not I the the Tax Man!"

"But I have come to collect something valuable, something of yours even."

"And what might that be? I have nothing, lest you look under my bed, for my treasure hoard."

"Oh pish, nothing as trivial as that, merely your soul you see."

"My soul?" I parroted.

"I think I left it in my other coat pocket", said I, even as I fled!

 

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Considering

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,

The soul recovers radical innocence,

And learns at last, that it is self-delighting,

Self-appeasing, self-alighting,

And that it’s own sweet will is Heaven’s will,

She can, though every face will scowl,

And every quarter howl,

Or every bellows burst,

Be happy still.
 

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