timothy-emil-birch
Canadian
I am known by many as Fire Monkey and I think that says everything to those who know how to hear it. To me poetry, song, art, emotion, life - they are all the same thing and each gives us a glimpse of the others. I create whenever I find myself filled with a need to express something inside and so what I write is as varied as life is.
It's quiet now
The wedding vows are said
and all that's left is picking up
the pieces of your life.
You can't make her love you
You can't make her live her vows
You can't make the beauty happen
that you thought this step would bring
And all you have is that
It's quiet now.
It's quiet now
The funeral is over
and all that's left is picking up
the pieces of your life.
You can't fight death
You can't bring back your son
You can't make yourself a father
like you thought this step would do
And all you have is that
It's quiet now.
It's quiet now
Her boyfriend has gone home
and all that's left is picking up
the pieces of your life.
You can't make her leave him
You can't make her face that resent death
You can't make her love you
no matter what you do
And all you have is that
It's quiet now.
It's quiet now
Your faith is left in shatters
and all that's left is picking up
the pieces of your life.
You can't make God help you
You can't deny He's real
You can't make yourself love Him
with all that you've been through
And all you have is that
It's quiet now.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
She looks like springtime
Fresh and new
She walks like the rain
Her breath is dew
Her voice is moonlight
On the sea
With sunlight's warmth
She touches me
Is she a dream
This lady fair
As soft as mist
As sweet as air
Or is she real
And will she stay
To help me chase
The gloom away
She is a song
In harmony
With the one
Sung within me
Just as the moon
Will move the tide
So with her mind
Does my heart ride
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
Biscuits baking in the oven,
Rain pours down outside -
My head is full of internal noise;
It hurts, but I am not unhappy.
I have learned to ignore those things
which stand in the way of life.
The bass player up stairs is trying,
he practices his riffs
but does not form a song.
A cat sleeps on curtains that have fallen
and no one seems concerned.
I have no thoughts, just feelings
ill formed and unclear yet there.
Stuffed with things I did not choose,
The smell of biscuits bring me back.
They are my anchor to here and now.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 6:42 PM UTC
In the trees outside the birds are whistling
In my mind's eye their feathers glistening
Some how I know that they are listening
To sunrise colours of the day
My heart is filled with sweet old memories
And I recall what it is to be at ease
On a day like this life still can really please
And I smile at the sound of their song
I knew a time when the days were all like this
From dawn to dawn my life was filled with bliss
Birds called my name and the sun and moon would kiss
At the start and the end of each day
So now I stop every time I hear them sing
And I accept any moment that their song might bring
For in their notes is the hidden breath of spring
And the thoughts of the joys not quite gone
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
within the deepness of my soul,
I have found you living there
in my dreams - a burning coal
passion filled, a feeling rare
I have found you living there
the sweetness of it fills my heart
passion filled, a feeling rare
I do not know just how to start
the sweetness of it fills my heart
though what we say may not be heard
I do not know just how to start
this feeling, more than any word
though what we say may not be heard
it matters not what others say,
this feeling, more than any word,
keeps me warm through night till day
it matters not what others say,
in my dreams - a burning coal
keeps me warm through night till day
within the deepness of my soul.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
We fell in love, that is all that I know,
no matter what happens it will remain,
When we were young, just a while ago,
my heart made a choice that shall never wain
No matter what happens it will remain,
though our life has not been always so kind,
my heart made a choice that shall never wain
if I am with you, then I do not mind
Though our life has not been always so kind,
in better or worse it is all the same,
if I am with you then I do not mind,
I am at your side in health or in pain
In better or worse it is all the same
though some may question or say it is wrong,
I am at your side in health or in pain
I do not care about what says the throng
Though some may question or say it is wrong,
nothing has changed from what I remember,
I do not care about what says the throng,
this shall remain til life's cold December
Nothing has changed from what I remember,
When we were young, just a while ago,
this shall remain til life's cold December
We fell in love, that is all that I know.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
How do I miss thee?
Let me count the ways:
I miss your loving heart
that beats with a deep caring for others
to the limits of its strength
and perhaps beyond.
I miss the warm communication of your arms
when, from time to time, they say the things that words fail
with a touch, a hug, a gentle pat.
I miss the wit and wisdom that is you
that warms my soul and helps my heart to beat
when life has dragged it down.
I step outside to clear my head,
for the heat of the day lingers in my room
heavy, as if to echo my heart,
and find that the sky cries down
with gentle tears as though it too feels
the longing of my heart at this parting.
For though I have not yet left,
the knowledge that I shall makes me feel
as though the leaving was too long ago
and though I know in my head that it will be
only a short time in hours that I am gone
my soul feels the weight of it as if
those hours might be years.
I miss thee with all my being
for you complete me
in ways that words can not express.
And so I wait the appointed hour
with the desire that I might already be returning,
Your side is where I am meant to be
You are my strength, more so than you might know.
When I do things alone, they have no meaning
when I do things with you, they give me purpose.
You are the moon that lights my path
and keeps me safe in the darkness.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 4:48 PM UTC
The Write of the Emo Poet
Of course is doomed to fail
Yet even so they raise their pen
Against the world to rail
Through glasses fashioned out of angst
They view a graying sky
And know that it will only end
Upon the day they die
With blood black ink they write the words
That cause the moon to cry
And tell of all the things gone wrong
But never answer why
The Write of the Emo Poet
Is dipped in bitter sweet
Its forged on long walks through the fog
And drizzle on the street
For every thing that might be good
They find some hidden wrong
Which others cannot understand
Alone they sing their song
In mournful tones that rip the heart
And bind even the strong
Their only joy is knowing of
The sorrows of the throng
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 11:20 AM UTC
what can you do about the monkey?
well you know he can't be trained,
oh, he can learn some lovely tricks,
but he never can be tamed.
you can dress him up in a tux and tails,
but don't take him to the ball.
he just won't behave like he's supposed to do,
he doesn't get that scene at all.
so what can you do about the monkey?
you got to take him as he is,
and you know he'll always be there,
if you're a friend of his.
but the monkey does his own thing,
and he's always on the go.
yet he'll make you laugh and have some fun,
that's the way he is you know.
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
I wonder,
did I smile that day?
Did some dreamy absent look
draw her eye?
I don't recall, in truth
I don't remember anything much about the day.
Somehow though I guess she chose
I guess it was alright with me
I guess I never did say no
Somehow it seemed that we were spending time
and somehow all that time just seemed to grow.
Did I ask her? Really?
I guess I did and somehow I should recall
but looking back it all was such a blur
I guess she answered yes.
But that was a million years ago
and what did we know back then?
I guess I should have known
that something wasn't right
I should have wondered why certain words
just never came from her
I should have known but I was young
She always liked me, no doubt of that,
and I knew what she wanted
I knew she wanted to escape
but I never realized that I was just
a safe way out
But that was a million years ago
it hardly matters now
We were young
what did we know of love?
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 11:14 AM UTC