These are a collection of poems I have written over a short period of time. Feel free to tell me what you think.
Heart of Man
Without bliss or fury,
lies deep in the mist,
the unbeating heart of man.
Motionless, but thriving in the lingering wrath of sorrow.
Slow and powerful, the shining stars look down upon the eminence of intellect as it is overthrown by the unstoppable will of thy human soul.
Fluorescent tears of sorrow flow out of thy eye like the silky water of the Nile.
The mind of the fearful prey unknowingly falls into thy claws of the predator.
Hope and dreams of the children of soar under the watchful gaze of thy almighty deity.
Watch in awe as the nothingness of the void transforms into the realm of the damned.
Read their hearts, feel their pain, show mercy upon the weak to spare yourself from pity. Show love to all, and give hope to others. Remember that no deed no matter how big or small, has an incomprehensible magnitude against the miniscule wrath of a sin.
The Light of The Dark
How wondrous and benign, is thy maiden’s lust,
Adverse is the task, of how the master must serve.
Stare deep into the void, or feel thy the burning nerve.
embrace the pain of the light, stand as a shield from the love of the dark,
show love to others, and you shall be not stark. Expose the soul, or read their hearts.
Forever more is the pain, of the light of the dark.
A Soundless Memory
Aimlessly wandering through, the strange and caliginous forest,
an eternity it was, if not for the crying chorus.
The endless night goes by without a sound at all.
Moonless is the sky, very much a treason.
Mindless footsteps pondering eerily without reason.
My pointless sauntering transformed into a run.
The silent breeze turned into a silent hum.
The frigid air caressed my burning snow white cheek.
My heart was pounding loudly, very much a drum.
I felt it crawling, inching closer, soundless like the hum.
Insanity’s embrace was like nothing like I knew, burning hot and freezing cold as if they were not two.
Encases me is death itself, as pretty as the stars.
But like all stars it had some burning rage.
As I finally accept my fate, I drift into the void.
A silent hiss, thy gentle kiss,
oh the boundless depths of thy abyss,
And in the end, it all felt like a soundless memory.
A Skyless World
Cold and frigid is the air,
in the heartless eyes of thy ocean’s mare,
Starless is the void above,
without an olive branch, or a dove.
Soulless are these lives declared,
hopeless is the world ensnared,
in this skyless realm of air.
In the ocean, creatures glow,
gentle like the river’s flow.
Heartless like a fire’s glow,
are the frigid lands of frow.
Dark enough to a cause fright,
are the treached eyes of midnight.
Here lies the blood of Virgin Mary,
Gleaming in the moonlight.
White as snow,
is the glow,
of the lantern’s flare.
Jump off the edge, of thy ledge, most people do not dare.
Struggle do the hopeless spirits, of those who’ve been ensnared.
Shimmering in the sunlight, is the crystal hare.
Feel the wrath of the devil’s furious will,
Terrifying is, the battle on the hill.
Fear the pain, of the winter chill,
Silent are the droplets, on the window-sill.
The lurking shadows, remain quite still,
as I stand, atop the silent hill.
People of The Marsh
Sinking slowly in the marsh,
not a sound, too loud or harsh.
Little there are, but not too sparse,
for few are the minds, of the people of the marsh.
Exciting is the melting snow,
for once it’s done the grass can grow.
No more of that yellow hue,
for now there can be morning dew.
No more of that freezing ice,
for now the farmers can grow their rice.
If don’t want to get out of bed,
you might as well be dead.
For there is nothing better, than the sight of melting snow.
The Weeping Tree
The towering willow weeps as its leaves are blown away, never to be seen again, forever astray.
Whittled by time, is the bark of the willow, rough as the sea, yet soft as a pillow.
Ruined by hatred, are the hearts of the grey, just like the leaves, forever astray.
Blue was the sky, if not for the clouds.
Shine does the sun, upon the young maiden’s blouse.
Forgotten is the name, of the street urchin’s mouse,
for even he, has no heartwarming house.