Water in a Glass
When you first realize it
the water is at the top,
But as the water pours
Your chances begin to drop.
You find it difficult to talk
And cannot speak your mind,
You know what you want to say
But the words you cannot find.
When you sit and think
the water still does pour,
But when the glass is empty
Your time will be no more.
You wonder if this person
Whom you wish to tell
When finding out your truth
will take the statement well.
Their reaction is why you wait
Their reaction is what you fear,
It's too bad that this person
doesn't know you hold them dear.
As time quickly passes
You are approaching your fate,
The water still drains
At the impensding date.
The water has now drained
Even the last drop is gone,
Your pain will now grow
with each impending dawn.
The water haas been lost
the remnants have been spilled,
Although the pain is great
The glass again may be filled...
Copyright© 1997
THE GREATEST BATTLE
The sun sets
giving up the fight
Greedily the moon makes it's way
Taking with it all of the light.
Then rises the sun
To begin the next day
It's overpowering force
Sends the moon on it's way.
This daily battle
For all to behold
It's like a good story
That will always be told.
Copyright© 1997
The one for me?
I know that your out there
The woman meant just for me.
I've been told to wait for you
But how long could it be?
It may not be instant love,
For it could be the last glance.
All that I am asking of you
Is that one simple little chance.
I may not be much to the eye
But I will love you forever.
I know you are lying in wait,
Finding you is my endeavor.
Giving my life for you
Would be nothing to ask.
For having you in my life
It would be but a simple task.
If I do not uncover you
In that place where you do wait.
Then, to die lonely and alone
Will be my miserable fate.
Copyright© 1997
Untitled
About to embark on a sacred journey
Here it is that we begin our story
Be it the voyage for love,
or a great quest for glory.
There is no possibility of rushing in
First you must stop and think
Pay close attention to the goings on
for they may disapear in a wink.
The surroundings may dishearten
and affect the way you feel
But it doesn't matter in the least
because it all seems so real.
Some people in this land are evil
and to kill you they will try
Although you are not immortal
there is no way you can die.
In this world anything is possible
Many different things may transpire
The situation can be fruitful
but also, things could be dire.
Many things happen in this realm
Some of these would make you weep
However unlikely it may sound
The entrance lies in sleep.
Copyright© 1997
Controversy Within
What has made my feelings change?
I never thought of her this way
We were never more than friends
For years, I saw her everyday.
I never thought her beautiful
But right now in life I do.
Never thinking this would happen
I hope my feelings aren't true.
The last thing that I want
Is to lose her as a friend
But with the telling of this news
We will surely be at an end.
The way I act around her now
Is different than what it was
Hopefully she can't see my feelings
But by her looks I know she does.
Maybe I should tell her right now
I'm only afraid her friendship I'll lose
In a battle with my own feelings
And I don't know what to chose.
Copyright© 1997
Not poetry, but I like it more than my poetry
I find myself walking aimlessly down a path not knowing
how I've gotton there, or where I am going. Seeming as though
I had stepped onto someone else's life for just a moment.
Even though everythin around the path is foreign, it seems
almost farmilliar. The trees, which have shed the majority
of their leaves for the season, as well as the small stream
which runs adjacent to the old, weatherbeaten path.
The sky has no clouds, but wait, the faintest wisp of
one there, in the west. The west, the direction of the
seting sun. The sun has begun it's daily descent below the
horizon, relinquishing it's peaceful grasp to that of the
night. Night, dark, ominous, where all that is evil resides.
Nothing good can come from it's being.
Perhaps, yes! Dreams. What in life is more important
than the nightly slumber. All of the mysteries of life are
in dreams, as well as the answers to those mysteries, if one
is willing to venture into the darkest reaches of ones own
being, their own self.
Oh, but look I've lost sight of the topic again. I am
still walking on this path, to I know not where. Now the
blanket of darkness has spread, and all that was once
beautiful is no more. Simply because something can not be
seen doesn't make it any less beautiful, does it? But
if you can't see the beauty, is it there?
There is something reappearing in my memory. I can't
see it, but I know it's there. It's beautiful, if only
I can sense it's presence. I think I can recall what it
is. Yes, it is a person. A woman. A woman of great
beauty. I remember her now, her name is...
Copyright© 1997
Here is something along the same lines as the previous one
Except, it differs after a time
The moment was a bittersweet one. Archaick was returning
home from battle, but all of his dear friends had met thair
fate the hands of the enemy. He wasn't looking forward to the
kingdom of Myr; there was nothing there which he wanted.
There was nothing for him anymore.
Archaick was following a farmiliar path on his way home,
a path which he had walked many times with his friends in
times of peace. Now there were no friends for him to walk
this path, and there was no peace on the island of Dergon.
The crunch of snow underfoot was the only thing Archaick
could hear as he neared his destination.
There it was, appearing over a small hill in the
distance;Myr. Like an island waiting his arrival in this
sea of alabaster. A haven where he could eat, sleep, and
warm his frigid body.
With a slight gesture the guard inside the front gate
bade him into the walled structure. Just before Archaick
entered he took not of the mote, frozen solid.
"Good sir, you look as you could use a good drink of
my best ale," said the barkeep just as Archaick closed the
door.
"Perhaps, alright," aswered Archaick, who really didn't
care. He just wanted to sit near the fire, and rest.
When Archaick looked to the fire he saw two people
already sitting there, and it was the only table close to
the fire. So he just walked up and took the third seat at
the table. As Archaick drink arrived he acknowledged the
others with only a nod. They didn't seen bothered by his
presence.
The other two people weren't talking, and only one of
them was drinking anything. The one who was drinking was
a woman, who was clad in a long flowing white robe. She
had long hair, a sort of silvery brown that glimmered in
the firelight. Even though the robe hid her physical
features she appeared quite slim, and she had a face which
portrayed peace.
The other sitting at the table was a man. Or appeared
to be by his build, because he was wearing a grey cloak,
with it's hood hiding his face. The man just sat there,
and did nothing to indicate he was even conscious.
There's supposed to be seperate paragraphs...
Copyright© 1997
My favorite poem
LEISURE
By: W.H. Davies
What is this life, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait until her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Some Shakespeare?
My favorite piece ever written by him
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have