Poetic Glimpses

Here you will find a collection of poems that I have written over the years. They are of varying quality and moods. I hope that you enjoy them.

Echoes

The music, the lyrics, the people, the rhymes,
The words and the voices, echo in time.
Over and over like waves crashing down,
Shoving, and pushing, and knocking around.
Echoes of noises and theories of sound,
Motion and stillness, dancing are bound.
Upwards and downwards, and under the bed,
Flowing and rushing and hushing in dread.

The music, the colors, the people, the rhymes,
The words and the images echo in time.
Sapping and sucking, making one dry,
Deserts of emptiness looming are neigh.

Echoes of stillness hiding in chaos,
Echoes of laughter hiding in tears,
Echoes of sadness hiding in pride,
And echoes of self hiding in time.

Knowledge and wisdom are hiding in darkness,
Painted on landscapes, pictures of starkness.
Wearily seeking them yet one never finds,
They hide in the corners lost in the mind.

The music, the chaos, the people, the rhymes,
The words and the faces echo in time.
Running in terror never to find,
Solace and peace and presence of mind.

Love's Soliloquy ("parody" of Hamlet's Soliloquy) (June 11, 2003)

In English of my Junior year in High School we had to write a parody on Hamelet's Soliloquey. I tried to keep the feeling of the original in my reworking of it by keeping the same number of sylables per line whenever possible, I also tried to end each line with a word that rhymed with the concurrent ending word of the original

To love, or not to love: that is the sorrow:
Whether to suffer the burden on the heart,
Or to turn aback and shun the pain,
And by leaving, to callus: To cry, to weep;
No more; and by death to say it is over
The pain and anguish of tortured soul,
That drowns one man's hope, not once but evermore.
Praying for death to come: To cry, to weep;
To die; 'tis but a dream; ay, there's the rub;
For in this dream of love what truth may come,
When loves immortal virtues have shown their face.
Must cause us thought; please hear the truth
That mends the gashes of the broken heart
For who can live life immortal alone,
The hope is nigh, sorrows song has faded,
The pangs of unrequited love, of,
The tears of pain that burned the cheeks of man,
That always failed to dry before the dawn
When morning breaks, a mask is painted
With the ease that comes from repetition
To hide the truth from the world's prying eyes
But the dread of discovery looms
The terror of truth revealed has come
No escape is clear, no salvation is near
And drives us to the brink of freeing death
Then love's sweet sound pulls us back from deaths grip
Thus what we fear most is our salvation
And so our fears appear unfounded
Is this the truth or have our eyes been shrouded
And keeping us unguarded from the pain,
With sorrow creeping in, to steal our hearts
And take from us all that remains of hope
The fair princess! True love of my heart
Be all my sorrow remembered.

Murmurs (March 15, 2004)

A short poem drawing a verbal picture of the sound of murmurs, it is also another attempt at introducing rhyming
into my poems beginning my use of couplets.

Quite murmurs float on air
One by one and some in pairs,
Gliding towards the listening ears.
Some speak of lingering fears,
Silent murmurs build in force,
Some are swaying from their course.
Swiftly sing the tiny words
Soaring on the wings of birds.

My Home, My Land, My Heart's True Pride (October 4, 2000)

I was feeling paricularly patriotic on a drive through Virgina and wrote this.

When I look across her rolling plains,
And gaze upon her snow-capped mounts,
I see nothing but beauty in her face,
I say, "My home, my land, my heart's true pride."
I stare across a valley deep,
At the mountain range,
Overhead the eagle cries,
"My home, my land, my heart's true pride."
Through her forest great I hike and see,
The leaves change from green to gold,
Then fall to the ground now covered in snow,
The wind howls cold, and whispers low,
"My home, my land, my heart's true pride."
Grace and majesty is all I see,
'Til I look at our nation's gate,
This land once ruled by godly men,
Who held their morals high,
Now led by men who trust not in God,
Who made this great land,
Hence she falls with shame,
With a deep dark fate,
"Alas," I cry, "my home, my land, my heart's true pride."

Ocean's Story (March 25, 2004)

Another in my rhyming attempt at poetry, I also tried to write about something other than emotions, instead
I gambled my hand at describing a natural object.

Sweet smells the salty sea blown breeze,
Tilting-blown the wind bent trees,
Crashing fall the white capped waves.
Feel the senses, overwhelmed; all is but a daze.
Swim beneath the ocean's sky
'round the reef we silent fly.
Gaze upon the undersea,
Wonders be that few have seen.
Creator's wonders hail his glory,
All his works tell his story.

Silent Prayers (March 15, 2004)

I never realy cared much for rhyming, thinking that it was to rigid for my poetry, but I gave it a shot. This poem uses as simple "ababcdcd" patern, rhyming every second line with each other.

Silent prayers whisper by
Floating on the breath warmed breeze
Rising slowly by and by
That tickle sides and angels tease
As they rise to heaven's Lord
Whisper all your silent prayers
Lo, the angels wield the swords.

The Breath of Now (August 6, 2005)

A silent whimsical thought, floating here about and around,
Under and above the plane of consciousness,
Tickling that which is barely aware.

Swimming in the realm of memory,
Touching all those experiences,
Touching the good ones,
Touching the bad as well.

And slowly, slowly, if surfaces, a feeling, an emotion,
Gasp, and breathe, as it makes itself known to me.
The now is what matters,
This infintely long finite moment,
This is what counts.

The past is riddled with stories and happenings,
Full of joy and pain, the future is unknown.
To stop, to breathe the breath of now.

To Dream (August 6, 2005)

Lastest version

To dream, to dream
A touch, a fleeting thought
A whirl of emotions
It quickens one's breath.

A dream, another dream,
I dream of hope, of sweetness.
To dream, I wish to dream,
Of a reality that is yet to come.

Quite, shush, listen
A dream is singing
Quite, hear its lullaby
You restfull sleeping.

A touch, a sound,
A smell, a dream,
A breath of life
Is quite coming

Rest well, peace be still.
Know that dreams,
They do come true
Quite, listen.

Version Two

To dream, to dream
A touch, a fleeting thought
A whirl of emotions
Quickens one's breath.

A dream, another dream,
I dream of hope of sweetness.
To dream, I wish to dream,
Of reality that is yet to come.

Quite, shush, listen
A dream is singing.
Quite, hear its lullaby
You restfull sleeping.

A touch, a sound,
A smell, a dream,
A breath of life
Is quite coming

Rest well, peace be still.
Know dreams they do,
They do come true
Quite, listen.

Version One

To dream, to dream
A touch, a fleeting breath
A whirl of emotions
Quickens one's breath.

A dream, another dream,
I dream of hope of sweetness.
To dream, I wish to dream,
Of reality that is yet to come.

Quite, shush, listen
A dream is singing.
Quite, hear its lullaby
You restfull sleeping.

A touch, a sound,
A smell, a dream,
A breath of life
Is quite coming

Rest well, peace be still.
Know dreams they do,
They do come true
Quite, listen.

Untitled (March 2004)

This was a start in trying to write rhyming poetry. I wrote several poems that month trying different rhyming schemes this used the most compicated. I used a pattern I don't think I've heard of before, atleast not in any English class I've taken.

Waves crash and fall upon this shore
Their race is done and lost
Upon the lonely plane of seas.
None but one can count the cost
For all is gone, none speak no more
But the failing, wailing pleas
Of men who've yet to see.

Burn the mighty fires of hell
Burn the lowly sinning man
Whose immortal soul has disappeared
Consumed by the devil's gruesome clan
Fearsome fires fueled by cries,
Cries of souls who've always feared
The saving wrath of the master's hand.