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DEAR BETH For years I have known you, for years I have loved you. Every one I have seen - what I wished could have been; Such a tender relation; not a standing ovation. So I must ask of this:; could I please have some bliss. Tis now time to say, (right now, yes, today); I love you, I LOVE YOU. Theres no word can describe you. So be honest love please; (do not try, do not tease), but just answer me straight; - so I dont have to wait. If its " yes" it'll be grand. If its " no", I'll understand. But no matter what I've looted, there's none I've been more suited. For from now till my death; I'll still love you dear Beth. (Valetines Card for Beth - my first poem from the heart) I think, I am sure, you thought this a bit cheezy, But, I think you did know; I was then a bit queezy. I have always loved you, but never quite knew the reason: and I tried and I failed to make.. - myself more "of the season". But who am I now, I ask myself....at last. Will You forever be always part of my past?. The hope, The joy which I always have sought, I could see in you then; thats why I myself have taught; to look deep in to life, and the offers it shows; I have looked for what's good, not just for what glows. You are always there, is it that you always will be? Will I always be blind, will I ever see?. Will I always be looking for what I have missed; ...always be seeking for the dame I havn't kissed. Chances, have happened; without nye a doubt; And these chances I would have taken; without nye a shout. But afterwards I ask you; for is sole my gout, was the happening ever there; or was it just mere a bout? Because what seems to be so is not always the whole; Will I ever completely understand my own soul? But then as I am sure you see...as I do now, you might think that I judge you, neigh it's to life I must bow. The path always seems to be rugged and unclear, Will I ever know when I am anywhere near? Such is the mystery of life... or so it seems; That's why I will always run... back to my dreams.. The message to me seems to stay the same; Be true to yourself; ...And the rest?, ...It's just life's game. (What I feel now ....I STILL LOVE HER) |
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Man always strides to design and construct, without a care or a thought for what we destruct. Problems occur which we don't always see. We can't always see what's not meant to be. The harmony with nature which we long ago had, is hardly considered; that's why it's all going bad. The less we do; the more we learn. The more we build; the more we will yearn. What's left of nature is now starting to cry; "You must change your ways, or else we'll all die". Time is shorter, the end is near. The solution is simple, the answer is clear; Listen to nature; "You must conserve, -or else we'll all suffer for what you deserve". |
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The cry of the wild is all but one plea; that before it's too late, man again needs to see. In search for the truth, man strides further away. Construction, destruction, man's love for nature goes astray. In search for answers, more questions are gained. Increase in knowledge leaves the Earth more blood stained. So, before it's too late, man must heal all the pains, and seek harmony with nature, and conserve what remains. But if man does not listen, or refuses to care, if he continues to build, and destroy what is fair; Then what's left of the Earth and the life it sustains -will eventually die and leave only remains. Then what would we have gained?, What would we see?, Would we have learnt?, Would we have time to flee?. If a host could be found, if a second chance again; Would history repeat;- Would we still be life's bane?. But surely, my freind, this is not meant to be: We're supposed to be managers; We're not meant to flee. It's not yet too late for our ways to be changed. We can still save our world; This has been pre-arranged. And this is why nature is communicating now. Horses and dolphins are teaching US how. So, take a step back, and listen and look: The answers are here, the rest's in The book. |
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You should never ever mock the ill-ordained, No matter how sparse their treaties were obtained: Because in prose, poetry, and jest; Your freind is speaking as a guest, So relax and be at rest, Ye are at thine own behest. Words are aranged to flow together someway, Words that are changed still blow forever, now, today. So don't hide under veil, and feign all that's frail. The thought is still there; so you'd better beware! |
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I want to tell you a story: I promise it's not gory. If you read on, I'll tell you a tale: It's from a very unfortunate male. So ... you're still here? - well then, here goes; (And, please, don't be tempted to doze). It started upon a time - when life was hardly sublime. When struggle upon struggle was wrought, and happiness is all that was sought. They never realised why; until every else reason was dry: Why they struggled, stretched, fought and strained. They muddled and they fetched; might they feign? No! Never! Not likely! ... they said; We won't stop, we'll not drop - We must save our crop Always grapple, grab, scuffle, scrape and hop. But... To reach the end of the story too soon? You breach? You mend? You toy? Ooooh The Moon! |
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What is it? What does it mean? What is the point? Are you really that keen? It arrives anyway; donkey, cow, straw and hay. The scene is pre-set, the baby dost lay. The tale is told, future plans are made. Frankinscence, Myrh and Gold, ...then the truth starts to fade. When the meaning is lost in the sparkle and glam'. All that's left is pure greed, and an excuse for "a wee dram". But there is still yet hope, in the eyes of our young. Though it seems like a dream, we are still strongly clung; The vision we've lost, our children still see; It still has no cost, not a measurable fee: Found are the lost, we are still thee and me. |
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I pray Oh God, that the troubles around - are all evened out by the joy that's abound. The sorrow, the heartache, the fear and the hate - Will tomorrow be banished, and will flee from my gate. I hope that the love will stay strong in my soul, And will pass on to them as my children grow old. So that they and theirs then shall grow stronger still: In hope, truth and love, may they always have their fill |
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Bully for you. Give me a joke - an occasional glare. Yes! at me poke - without seeing my flair. But you'll be the one who really is lost. Yes, you are well gone, your mind is much tossed. Why didn't you see that your saviour was me? Why couldn't you flee from the razor and be? You hate yourself yet deffend with your might. Is the weight of your wealth from much others' plight? But still at least I know that I am yet stronger. Have your fill of the feast; You will always whet longer. |
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Stay in touch. So where are you now?, I've not seen you of late. Did you follow your vow?, Do you have yet a mate? Did you get what you wished, as somesort as such? Do you wonder what's missed?, Am I asking so much? So, how could you know what happened today? Where did you go after hastened dismay? What have you found in a diferent space? Are your feet on the ground?, Are we in the same place? Do relations, all kinds, always stay the same? Do all nations, all minds, ever spark but one flame? Life always widens the range; it's borne in your crotch. We're all different, we change, so please keep in touch. |
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Depression. Sometimes I feel sad and blue, There's failure in almost everything I do. Just when I think I just might, I don't manage it, not quite. To myself I say "why is it so?", What must I do?, Where should I go?. Where sad is not there, and happiness is. Yes, people do say that it can't all be bad. There are lots more people that ought to be sad. They say they're not complaining, They never are feigning. But there's only one place, where I don't see my face. Where sad is not there, and happiness is. Why am I here? Where is my place? What must I do? Where should I face? Questions, not answers, frustrated glances. Why do I fear to shed but a tear? Where is my might? Why can't I fight? There's one place I know, one place I go, Where sad is not there, and happiness is. It's true I must say, It's not all this way. Sometimes I succeed, Sometimes I've no need. But such times are short, when ne'er even a thought. When fight is not saught and thought is not wrought. It's not meant to be so, It's not where I go. I will always stray and go the wrong way. Where sadness must stay and happiness is gone. But... My mind is a place when I am asleep, Where my heart is at rest and my soul does not weep. But life's just the same again when I awake, When everything's real, and I'm still a fake. |
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