500 poems,
I'm proud of myself,
I'm proud of this community,
I'm proud so many people are willing to show support.
I'm happy I found my way here,
But I might take a break,
Don't want to ruin a good thing.

When He was born,
He cried into the void of space,
Searching for the comforting voice of calm.

But only silence returns His call,
His tears echoing of the dark edges of the dark.

But He taught Himself to walk,
How to shape something with His own hands,
Then He made a world to answer back.

Cold winter's eve,
A peasant man mourns in the cold,
Tears all full, falling to his child's grave.

An angel then descended from the sky,
Remorseful for the great loss of his,
While she wrapped her wings around him,
She sighed and sung.

God made the stars,
He made them so you may see the eyes of your beloved,
When they return to his graceful arms.

It's a nice day in Paris,
A chilly afternoon.
At a tourist cafe,
With an Italian Painter,
Chatting about the French language.
"Why would you write about Dan's Amour?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well it's Dan's thing, seems personal to him."
"No, no, I wrote about dans amour."
"Yes that's what I said, Dan's Amour!"
Sigh

There is a face in the mist,
One that belongs not to me,
And it stares into my eyes,
Knowingly.
Tell me what you know!
For what have you come?
Why do you reach across the mists,
And stare?

The Black Knight of the Franks,
He feared no thing,
Except for the hand of God.

With his sword and cross,
He rode triumphant,
Through out the Holy Land.

But once he crossed a monk of opposing faith,
But spared his life,
So his story was erased from history.

Life wanders,
Winding like the waters.
An ocean word,
Sunshine on the waves.
Yet still nothing to compare,
To the shine in your eyes.
It's all dreams,
Wishes that came true.
Because when we kiss,
You say 'I love you.'

Icy moon beams,
Follow dancing snow.
A clean white sheen,
Cast across the pier.

Waters ceased by icy means,
Frozen is their flow.
One moment crisp and clean,
On a winter pier.

They tell one lie,
They speak one truth.
'It's easy to heal,
But you'll remember all your scars.'

The latter of the two, a truth.
Though that which precedes,
Lies through it's teeth.
Fangs of darkness and deceit,
Designed to forge a man with a black heart.
If not for the comfort of the summer sea,
I too would've succumbed to the gray of this city.
Morphed from a young and happy form,
To a soulless monster,
'****-Malum.'

Clear the way!
Can't you feel the rain?
It is soft now,
But it bares its bite.
Clear this road so the carriage men may run,
Gather your families, be ready to leave.
Here it comes,
The storm! Can't you see?
Don't you feel these winds ripping up this land,
Get away while you can,
Or die with the land.

Have you ever seen,
White light shine,
Through black diamonds?
Seen the reflection of moonlight,
Off of gold?
Do you walk around parties,
In black suits and dress attire.
How great it feels,
To keep time on gold watches.
Black diamonds,
Silver seas.
I'd give you riches,
If you'd love me.

I think my heart may be made of stone,
It's durable, but often pieces of it crumble away.
It sparkles with crystals,
The remnants of happy memories.
It's cold to the touch,
After all, rock is heat resistant.
But that's not the greatest,
For I can't feel the warm fingers of love.

The sky is gray,
And the clouds are low.
The winds are chilly,
And traffic is slow.
I'm still kicking,
But my heart beat, I no longer know.
I'm missing the sea,
I'm missing home.
I want to see,
The salty waves as I roam.
My love is buried in the sand,
Too bad.
Guess I'm leaving off this morning,
Feeling sad.

The rain fell,
Far from the sky.
Down upon the rocky shores,
And all through the night,
Weathered the rock to sand drop by drop.

Then in the morning the sand blazed bright,
For the man to see.
Down to the shore he went,
And dug up the sand then,
Went and made colored glass.

Tea is a colorful drink,
It comes in many different shades.
White Tea,
Sweet and delicate, brewed from the fragrant flowers of the tea tree.
Black Tea,
Strong and simple, a firm hand to lift you up from bed.
Green Tea,
Earthy and natural, weather or not the leaves or fired or steamed.
The Tea from my Grandmother's ***,
Beautiful and delicate, imprinting upon you like fresh snow on the roads of Boston.

Come flower child,
Join the rest,
In the autumn fields abloom.

Come flower child,
Join the patch,
In the rolling hills of autumn.

Come flower child,
Lay to rest,
Just like all the others.
Who came to the autumn fields,
Lined with stones.

Rose blood red,
Pricked my finger,
Now the feeling's trapped in my head.

I think it felt okay,
But that's not okay,
I'll save my silly thoughts,
So you know I'm okay.

Here comes the camera girl,
Clumsy American beauty!
With a French hat placed upon her head lazily,
And her camera hanging from her neck.
Looking around the streets,
Photographing Paris, a way to live through scenes.

But she'll never be happy,
Just watching the people,
Who dance by the Eiffel Tower.
No, she must dance!
But alas, she has no man with which to dance,
How sad.

A fact is a non-arguable statement,
But a statement is defined fact,
Through observations and experimentation.

Today a fact was patented,
By the college of my love for you,
The fact is; You are beautiful, that is it.

I think I'll go across the sea,
And study music in Italy.
Leave with only the clothes on my back,
My jacket pocket full of little literatures.

Or should I study English arts,
In England?
I doubt I'd read much,
There's not a lot to see in a London fog.

In darkness he rode to the castle gate,
With armor of steel and cloak of night,
Out pacing the daylight's flight.

He stormed through the castle door,
To slay the king,
Leaving the little prince in a pool of ****** dread.

Years pass, but in the still of night,
The prince chases after his father's killer,
Vengeance in his sight.

The rouge rode swiftly as the wind,
But the prince was nimble, catching him,
Then in his father's name, he did that man in.

I like music?
Writing is good too.
But music is the best,
I like listening to the records,
As they spin.
Art is nice too,
I like to paint.

I am from the sea, the salty spray of the Atlantic.
I am born of the trees and stars, of cold winds and breezy nights.
I am a son of the red sand hills, and the lost letters to neverland.
I am the making of love and pain, of lost will and false strength.
I am the lord of memories of longing and heartbreak.

I am born of an island of stone, and seas of stories.
I am a child of hatred and spite.
I am King of a long-lost land.
I am the farmer of an ancient plant.
I am from the sea, the salty spray of the Atlantic.

Why are we different?
Because you are a brittle block of rotting wood,
And I am an immortal diamond within obsidian sand.
When angered, you will raise your hand,
But don't you dare raise it to me,
For I will stand like statue, your blow caught in my palm.

Life jacket, soda pop,
Beach time and pool.
I miss the summer like a fool,
Winter's chill must stop.
For if this gray season fails to cease,
To the ground my heart will drop.
I long for the wings,
Of the grand geese.
So come, summer things,
So I may do away with this fleece.

If the rain did not say it,
Then it is no truth
For sunshine lies,
With it's promise of life in youth.

So I listen to the clouds.

These cold days,
Poetry is all I've got.
Where snow falls solemnly from looming clouds,
The only thing I surround myself with are words.
I miss the spring city,
Nothing could penetrate my armor of love.
For now that December has made it's descent, I am left in winter song,
Alas, for poetry, who's warm heart could melt the ice of sorrow.
Where will the fae dance tonight?
For reading poetry it makes my heart soar, and it makes my heart sore.
Snowflakes lace the winter grave of Autumn leaves,
And poetry, a silent goddess in the wind, has captured my tongue.
Where is the sun? In this winter's song,
For poems are the light in my dark.
Cold, the fingers that hold my pen,
Verse warms my soul.
Where am I? In this winter's song.

Spring is coming,
I can smell it in the air.
The warm kiss of sunny days,
The sent of the Earth waking again.
Winter snows fall from their glinting glory,
Shrinking as they drown in the muds.
The puddles claim the sidewalk stones,
Now in their reflection, I know my face again.
My soul aches as the breezes pass by me,
Carrying the sweet scents of flower blooms.
If only I could grow wings,
I would follow them to their shining prize.
Spring, is coming.

Hardship = Resent
Resent = Dedication To Change
Dedication = Hard Work,
Hard Work = Change
Change = Prosperity
Prosperity = Abundance
Abundance = Entitlement
Entitlement = Laziness
Laziness = Procrastination
Procrastination = Back Tracking
Back Tracking = Hardship
Hardship = Reform
Reform = Hard Workers

Repeat Cycle Again

Joy is a little thing,
A warm luxury in the chill of winter's winds,
One sparkling treasure in the face of somber spring rains.
Happiness is a man,
Roaming the midnight city streets,
Tossing gold glitter all over the way as he skips along.
Pleasure, a soft blanket on your bed,
A perfectly placed pillow to rest your head,
A pencil that never runs out of pencil lead.
Everything is diamond when relief rears its head,
Assuring as the autumn breeze,
Pushing around stray sticks and leaves.

So, this isn't really a poem,
More of just a post.
I'm looking for 300 poets,
New or old,
To write a line.
For a 300 poet poem.
I have one so far,
I'm in need of 299 more.

Who        
         Are
                You?

If I'm honest I don't really know, I think I'm me but I could be you just as well as you could be me and I could be someone else entirely.
All I've got to do is take off this mask but what if I do and nobody is
There, Their, Theirs, Where?

The sun rises,
With the dust.
Which blows across old acres,
Of desert sand.
Sending tumble weeds,
Straight to the oasis ponds.

It's a fragile thing,
This life.
Out here you live by the rules,
Of the man aiming a gun at your head.
It's real rough,
That's for certain.
It'll leave city spirits hurting,
But I'd rather live for the high noon,
Than some old mayor's law.

There's a chance,
I was AI generated,
Not born to a human,
Or made by a god,
A grand example of proper machinery,
Possibly another fault of humanity,
Because I wasn't programed with humility,
Maybe computer based artwork is so good,
Even I couldn't tell my mind is a mother board.

A weak sailor was I,
When she caught my eye.
A beautiful lass,
Straight from the sea.
Fair skin,
Just like the petals of the water lily.
With blue eyes,
The color of ocean waves.

Thin figure,
Cast a shadow on the sunny summer bay.
Boy was she pretty,
The kind of girl an old fisher,
Would call his finest catch.
Sandy hair tied back,
Elegance like a species of ancient lore.

And I guess,
The water wasn't just what she was for.
For back on shore,
The boat club dance floor,
Wasn't quiet full without her.
The way she'd move,
Like a shiny fishing lure.

We head for icebergs,
Faster than we know,
We cherish our unsinkability.

But we don't know what lies on the dark sea's lip,
Often sailing with confidence,
Yet, without a search light.

Jesus Garcia,
Drive your train.
Be brave and drive the flames away,
Jesus saved his town, but couldn't save himself.

You like string music?
Wow, I do too,
In fact I used to play.

Do I miss playing?
Well of course I do,
I remorse everyday for my string wings,
And how they were taken from me.

"Wisdom doesn't come easy,
So when someone tells you something you better listen.
Pay some attention to the wise men,
Even if they don't seem the wisest.
Listen here son,
Sometimes good men do bad things.
So they can protect the ones they love,
God is forgiving, he understands.
Sometimes you gotta get your hands *****,
To keep someone else's clean."

The social personality test,
Labeled me a villain!

A vile twisted man with morals not,
A stinking marauder with a heart of rot,
A mindless ravager incapable of thought!

All because I said that I'd do things that no other would,
To ensure safety to those I wish to save,
So am I villain not?

Strike me down baby,
Strike me down.
Take me to the dance floor,
Let me see the fire in your eyes.
Move with that passion,
I yearn to see.
I'll catch you if you fall,
While pouring your heart out.
So while were still young,
Move those hips.
And hit me up,
Looking good,
Looking fly,
Looking like I might just have to try,
Something crazy to be your guy.
Don't leave me hanging baby,
Your wild fire tames me.
So do the ballet,
Of the modern world,
Let me watch while you twirl.
And leave me lusting,
Once again.

As much as this is a gift,
It is a curse all the same.
Speaking in the tongue of thought,
I seem to think it all,
And I want to speak it all.

Although I wish each time a star passes by,
I still lay silent.
Stolen from my chance to speak,
Is there a way to say this where it'll be heard,
All of it, not just the gems.

No bed is mine,
If I lay not with her.
There is no home for me,
If I cannot hold her, gazing into the sea.
I am citizen to no country,
Unless it is the territory of her lips.

Often I'll wake in my slumber,
To a melody seeping through the window.
It's sung by the stars,
They beckon me from my soft bed,
To the chill of night.
I listen, for if I were not to dance to their music,
Their art would be at a waste.

Sometimes,
I write these when somethings on my mind.
Most times,
I write these when nothings on my mind at all.

I'm one awful actor,
You can see it in the red of my face.
One look at your face,
There goes my whole facade.
I won't pretend I know what I'm doing,
I just do what I'm feeling,
It's one wild ride.
Feel free to stick around,
But you'll feel it in the morning.

How fast can you jump,
With tired legs?
Further than the wall,
Or are your legs too weak for freedom.

How far can you swim,
When your arms are sore?
Will you make it across the lake,
Or drown half way?

How much can you love,
With a broken heart?
Will you make them happy,
Or have them jumping to get away?

MON

It's a good place,
The place we are.
Even in the cold weather,
I know I have your warmth to hold me over.
Because after all the freezing winds,
Comes the happy days of spring,
And this spring, I'll be happy with you.
So won't you get your converse on,
To come flower picking with me.
We can skip down flower fields,
Picking plenty of rosy red poppies.