Tag: poetry
A reflection on Quiet
Quiet fills my soul, no longer grief is king
Peacefulness shall give me wings
Upon which to fly among the stars, my whole
World composed of glistening, twinkling light.
And above all the quiet and peace is the moon
With its pale and loving, ever calling gloom.
Night fell
As night fell and the world began to drowse
You also fell, fell into an eternal slumber
And as the night came in full force
Your death came harder, faster, more painful
And night fell, and you fell, and both
Now rest in what seems to be forever
But ah, you shall rise again, on the last day,
And as you shall rise on the last day the morn
Shall come again and rise victorious for
Us still here below once more
nightmare
11.05.2024
autumn
The year’s favorite child here comes soon
He is an eternal golden high noon
He comes as an artist, weighed down with paint
Red, orange, and silver, no color too faint
He brings with him brushes of every size,
Small, big, and the biggest is to paint the sky
A golden hue like mother earth’s favorite lullaby
Here comes Autumn with his painters bag
Here comes Autumn, his brown eyes so sad
Short is his stay, but he does not mind,
His best work, his favorite, he will leave behind
For us to enjoy until his reckless sister
Comes screaming along, she is the Winter
thoughts from the littlest child of the moon
(aka a poem I wrote at two in the morning)
Have you ever received
A silver invitation?
Have you ever seen
A king’s coronation?
Have you ever been told
That your hearts stone?
Have you ever glowed
With lights stolen?
little doves, great big tree
Little doves under the tree
Little doves what shall I be?
Great big tree that shelters them,
Is my future very grim?
Do you see a rich young man
Do I get lots of land?
Don’t look too far in my past
That there lurks a bad romance
Little doves, great big tree,
Tell me now what shall I be?
rain
Listen to the rain,
Music to the ears
The sky pours out
Her tender tears
That all us mortals
Woe begotten
And full of grief
Are not forgotten
By the passing time
For always it hears
The sobbing tears
Of the wailing sky.
the lie and the truth
Death is like a wide, open sky
All friendly and inviting,
Such a well hidden lie.