Chug along old friend,
someday you'll see the end,
days of rest on the quay,
maybe not as active as you'll be,
slowly now,
in you go.

One final bell,
one last whistle,
men salute,
the name is taken down,
now...
all you are is a relic...
a memory of past strength,
now a museum.


You had your day,
you won them long ago,
you took a lot,
you have a big bite,
now come,
into the quiet rest of harbour.
Time to go to sleep,
sleep now you old, old,
battleship.

I call you beautiful,
not because of fact or hopeful lies,
but because its who you are.
I say to you I love you, I mean it.
I don’t say you’re my favourite,
because you’re not comparable,
I listen to you in the morrows,
and try to take away your sorrows,
I watch carefully your eyes,
to see if I can comfort your cries.
You see, here’s one important fact,
it’s true and I try and not let slack,
You are beautiful, simple as that,
its not just appearance,
it not just a consequence,
its your name,
Beautiful.

Beautiful is the name I call you,
not for righteous appearance,
not for coddling affection,
not for the wishful thinking,
but for you are beautiful.
It’s as much apart of you as every drop
or crimson rosy blood.
You are beautiful.
You, are so beautiful,
its more than just a name,
its… its… and identity of truth,
a banner to rally behind,
a truth that says your beautiful,
I believe it.

God calls you beautiful,
ordained with holy hands,
woven as so,
God says you are so,
who am I to try and contradict?
Well, I’m your biggest advocate,
your barracking fan,
the loving hand at the fall,
the one who cries to see you free,
and in freedom hear you cry out this one name;
“Beautiful!!!”
What is the day worth without hearing the truth?
Next to nothing,
but hear is the truth,
You’re beautiful,
not just in appearance, being, or in flesh,
But in the beauty of your true Identity.

Your Name is beautiful,
its why I say it to you all the days,
because I want to gain attention,
and bring a neglected thing to light,
You are beautiful,
You are beautiful,
You are beautiful,
this is a truth, I hope you believe it
as I believe it!
For my love wishes you to know it
all of your days, to live in beauty,
since its your name,
and loving identity.

How beautiful you are,
the amber sunlight is of no compare.
How the rivers waters,
hold nothing to the beauty beneath the tears.
Heres a secret for you my dear,
I find you wonderfully beautiful,
you hold your head high like a deer,
exuding an air of sweet elegance,
Your beauty made by heavenly hands,
impossible to walk by,
without taking note of your resplendent beauty,
For you are most beautiful.
Incredibly, fantastically, majestically beautiful
to me.

Take my hand,
We’ll walk forever,
of dusty roads,
and wood realms,
over sequestered rivers,
by the reflective lakes,
‘Neath beauteous moonlight,
or radiant daylights delight,
Exploring majestic cities,
or ruined ancient palaces,
far distant fields,
or nearest family parks,
We’ll roam.
through meek and mild,
through the tempest wild,
through the summer heat,
and springtime rejuvenation,
I’ll walk with you forever,
If you want me to that is.

Of saddened heart was he,
That dreaded day that he was beat,
upon the distant fields of war,
Brave, Brave, Sir Eorand.

Of stout heart,
yet of staggering limp,
Of wholesome mind,
yet of cleaved flesh,
Born to the land
on which his victory eluded.

How he sits ‘neath willowy boughs,
poised in humble reflection,
immersed in Character creating loss,
and still shot forth into Victory.

His reflection upon the waters,
distorted and unclear,
thus reflected the truest form of his heart,
oddly enough.

Kneeling by the abbey’s altar,
Shedding tears,
and of heart he cried.

“Catch me if you can!
I’m over here,
perplexed?
I’m really over here,
Oh wait,
I’m really quite near,
Ha ha ha, Foolish man!”

“Slay This madness!
You are what I say!
Stop, stop, stop, stop!
I am honest to the ‘T’ “

“Oh come now,
there is plenty to go around,
please come drink my milk,
and see which of you has it best,
bicker and argue children,
like vile beasts fight and quibble”

“I have it better,
it tastes exquisite”

“Nay, Mine is better yet,
a milk of sensational delight”

“Both are wrong,
Mine sings sweet melodies,
and dances on the taste buds”

“Alas these men are fools,
knowing not that they have indeed
the very same milk,
yet pride draws them to fight,
and lose all sense of GOOD
Reason.”

“Oi, I’m over here,
and You there,
come here too,
meet me here you two men,
now, you’ve found me,
here in the middle,
not far to opposite,
where blindness reigns.
I am here,
in the middle,
I am truth.
And if you tried,
by yourself,
you couldn’t
Catch me if you can.”

WHEN the lamb is born,
In innocence and grace,
the time will be ever approaching,
when the lamb becomes a Ram,
a shift in thinking,
a change in action,
a new appearance,
a seemingly new you.


WHEN the day comes,
and maturity changes you,
be not afraid,
be not wary,
be confident,
Be all that makes a ram
a ram.

Through the fires of conflict,
or the coming of an age,
the steely bite of emergency,
the Lamb, will nevertheless become,
A ram.

I will crown you with Love,
I shall crown you with tender care.
I’ll make you feel adored,
valued to your core!

Bring you to a surprise,
one summers night,
a lovers dance,
beneath the willows branch.

Oh yes,
I know I’m a simple man,
but behind it all,
is just this one crazy man,
who finds himself totally mad
about just one person,
Just You.

I’ll take you by the hand,
into some foreign land,
to shower you with freedom,
and liberation from that we knew.

Rome, Paris, London, Berlin, Vienna,
the nations far away,
hosting Our antics,
Our getaway,
Our holiday,
I’ll hold your hand through it all!


I’ll love you for the days
I’ll love you for the nights,
for the memories,
for the happiness,
for all that you give me,
as I give you my all,
You’re totally worth it,
yes, You’re totally worth it.

I’ll say it again,
You’re totally worth it.

Even when you bash yourself,
Reduce the hope,
give rise to worry,
inspire fear,
I’ll be there to keep you here,
to keep you calm,
to keep loving you,
through it all,
and you ask “Why?”
I ask, “Why not?”
I love you,
you’re worth it.

It isn’t easy going on,
Day by day,
It isn’t easy going on,
Pretending you’re ok,
It isn’t easy to go along,
as you’re tougher than the world,
It isn’t easy fighting,
Day after day,
It isn’t easy to believe some days,
It isn’t easy to assert your heart,
It isn’t easy to build your walls.
It sure is worth it.

Tell her this,
Daily.
She is beautiful,
she is wonderful,
she is pleasant
and delightful,
Ne’er is she disastrous,
Ne’er is she unappealing,
Tell her that you love her,
even if as a friend,
Tell her she is a wondrous blessing,
amongst the very best.

Tell Her these things,
tell her you support her,
even in the bad days,
tell her you are there,
even if its hard some days,
Tell Her this,
there is none like her.

Oh how Love should resemble spring,
blooming at every moment,
every beautiful blooming moments,
Blissful temperate days,
damp foggy morrows,
beads of dew in the morn,
perhaps the deep rumble of a storm,
When I say I love you my dear,
I mean it with the intensity,
the very deep consistency
of a thousand springs,
the eternal Bloom of the Eternal Spring.

When I on our wedding day,
promise and commit myself to you,
I shall say the heartfelt vow,
a worded description of how I shall live
with you, around you and in love with you,
a vow, it won't be flashy,
or excessive,
but heartfelt and a promise,
and then we can pinky-promise,
then touch thumbs,
like we did when we were younger,
"I love you My darling,
I vow to thee my life,
my strength,
My love,
My passion,
my heart,
all that I do,
shall reflect my love of two,
My father God in heaven,
And then my sweetheart,
that is you!
In every season!"
That is my vow to you my darling,
for I love you.

A heart ready and willing,
unfortunately denied.
Loving and committing,
simply waiting.

Yes, This heart awaits you;
it is waiting,
despite all heartache and suffering,
and it is waiting.

It watches to this day,
the heartache you each day do face,
and wonders to itself,
“why does something so beautiful,
do this to itself?”

What business has heartache
with such a beautiful soul,
a caring heart,
tell me now,
what business does heartache have?

Please Imagine,
my heart, ready to love you,
sadly made to wait,
made to watch your heartache,
made to watch you suffer,
when what it wants,
is to love you,
with everything its got,
please imagine my heart,
please,
just imagine.

Foggy morrows alluding to the rest of day,

a grand mystery of what will be,

enshrouded in mists mans mystery motivates,

it calls upon our curiosity to investigate

and pursue misty shadows lurking and lingering.


What new mysteries shall be in this new day?

What marvels may be obliged to see?

Ah, this fabulous foggy morrow holds such marvellous,
deeply seeded, and enshrouded in curiosity, mysteries.


Oh the Foggy Morrows such relevance to life

I see in you, despite the foggy nature of your being.  
Tho’ only temporary, your mystery shall reveal things

later becoming old, that is what you do,

Oh dearest Foggy morrows.

A fleet of wounded hearts,
mangled, beaten and broke,
wander helplessly through life,
not knowing who to trust,
or even where to go,
simply hurt, shattered and broken,
this sad little fleet of Wounded Hearts.

Wounded Hearts lay all around me,
slowly fading away, withering painfully.
Knowing not how to fix it,
they keep the wounds fresh and open.
Ne’er seeking to mend their,
sad little wounded hearts.

Fresh wounds made every day,
more upon the already existing.
How much can these wounded hearts
take? Bitter hearts tear the loving ones
to pieces and ne’er do they run away.
Yet, Stay and face the pain and hurt,
for whatever reason their hearts remain loyal
to that which hurts them,
hoping for relief.

Instead I beseech the fleet of wounded hearts,
“Follow Me, I will show you who can fix you.”
My Father, He lovingly made you a heart,
and people have destroyed them,
pray go to him, that he might mend them,
make them whole again,
it is his wish and desire to see you whole
once more,
and reduce the fleet of wounded hearts,
to none.

I’m mad,
I am mad,
I am not angry,
no, but I am mad,
so very, very mad,
meticulously so at times,
Just know that I am mad,
I am cuckoo, I am insane,
I am deprived of sanity,
I am mad,
wonderfully so,
for I am madly in love with you.

When my eyes befall the splendour of the land,
the softest touch of grey amongst the peridot grass,
timber browns stretch from left to right,
the amber touch of daylights beam,
the reflective wonder of the flowing stream.

Natures chorus and elegant noises,
harmonious beauty fill my ears,
beauteous avian warble,
the sensitive rivers trickle,
the beguiling Autumn leafs rustle,
the winds subtle whisper,
the orchestra is ready,
now it begins to play.

A beautifully fair day presents itself,
and I given just the chance
to gaze, hear, and feel the beauty,
might just indeed take it,
for this is natures Ode to life.

O' Youthful heart, why dost thou drift haplessly across the sky?
Can ye not be like the merry vessels and set your anchors in fair seas?
O' youthful heart, why dost thou bring pain to the lives of many?
If I gaze upon the lives of many, what do I see?
Pain, suffering,
slow and bitter,
weeping torment,
thousands of young peoples
hastily given hearts,
lay in ruin,
and all because the heart,
acted as a cloud.

One bush,
Dry save for one stem,
Dead save for one leaf,
Dull save of the one rose.

All others have expired,
All others have withered,
All others have wilted,
Just one now remains.

Few expected it to survive,
One last rose,
One perfect rose,
One lush ruby rose.

It is the final rose,
It is the beautiful rose,
It is the soul of the bush,
The Last Rose.

"More ropes! Swiftly now,
more ropes! With all that we hold
we must restrain it!" cries the mind.
Such a mighty roar,
tho' t'were a beast from hell,
yet so such beast was present.

"Ah, yes, No such liberty for thee,
restrained, confined to the labyrinth
of stock and stone for this lifetime."
whispered unto its enraged ears,
countless other taunts cast from figures
afar, but this youthful figure nearby,
taunts fresh into its ears.

What foul creature could be so horrid?
Surely a beast of such sheer evil nature,
death, destruction and villainy,
that doth terrorise the world so very much.

Listen! there's its thump and thud,
its horrendous screech,
the chorus of the deep.
Ay, tis not of kind appearance,
not to me in the slightest,
instead, throw flame and ember,
deep into its chambers,
and pray to the heavens,
that some miracle may be
bequeathed unto such a foe,
and looks of horror, and foul appearance,
might be converted to the sleek and slender
restraints of the minds will.

Ay, this is the heart,
a foul and horrid creature,
the bringer of pain, the bestower
of a smouldering soul.
Let it not loose,
lest it happens again.

Storms may rage,
winds may howl,
the night might grow uneasy,
but of this I am certain,
my heart remains steadfast,
my love unchanging,
my dedication,
commitment, decisions and choices,
speak volumes about my heart,
and to no other would
I give my fragile heart.

Even if the days grow limp and cold,
my heart shall remain the same,
deeply, madly, wonderfully
in love with you,
my dear dearest love.

The heart though it is heavy,
may lift and bubble,
fly and drift to newer heights,
to freedom,
but such freedom
that it is short-lived.

The hearts that were free,
sink and fall,
hastily to the sharp, jagged,
rocks of the deepest crevasse
of shadow and nigh-light.
Breaking upon the night,
with little light.

Here, see the elegant ebb and flow,
of balloons and hearts aglow with passion,
love and care, that they are so delicate,
and full of emotions, which if treated
poorly will burst and fall in sadness,
hurt and pain.

These are the Balloons and hearts,
that ebb and flow to life's,
fair current and nature.

Let us go now my love to dwell forever
beneath the faintest moonlight of summertime,
where nature grows and enlivens hearts forevermore.
Let us go now my love to dwell forever
in natures fair *****, in Ceres cradle let’s
rest and recuperate and let our minds ponder.
Loves garden grown and tended by two
such heartfelt and intertwined lovers,
see them sit ‘neath the willows canopy,
fingers intertwined, gazing at the lands fair
view as the moon drifts lazily
across such wonderful starlit skies.
My love, No such garden is better suited,
than this loves humble garden.

The lovers passionate tryst,
occurred beneath the moons feint reign,
by the reflective ripples of the river,
'neath the shivering oaks leafy canopy,
'ere the land is simple,
'ere the lovers meet.

One such fair maiden
from the highest house of noble,
married to the tyrant,
the slovenly old fool,
Youthful betrothal from a fathers greed.

One noble peasant,
poor, and rugged in appearance,
from the fishers family,
madly in love with the maiden
he abstains from all others
just for her and all his affections
are for her, only her.

So in secret these two meet,
night after night,
where the law has no reign,
where the land is free,
much like their love
in this the lover sacred
secret place.

Get up off your lazy keister,
face the facts,
Life was never intended to be simple,
in fact at times it seems inevitably overwhelming.
You fell for the delusion,
You fell into the trap,
and now it shall be what stings you the most,
Get up off your lazy keisters,
do the work,
push through the hard times,
and change your world.

Hunger throughout the world,
Wars at home and abroad,
Political scandals and childish debate,
Global warming, the truth awaits,
STI's, part-going teens, Alcohol and drugs,
police combatting crime committing thugs.
The world is a mess,
and no one seems to care.

I do,
I care about the famine,
earth and wars,
the scandals and debate,
truth,
disease, frivolity and substances,
crime,
all these things I profess to care about.
Do you?

At the moment when the spear pierced his side,
and Christ had died,
Sins were dragged away, dredged from our hearts,
and taken with him,
for all,
even those who deny.

When the minutes roll by
with all haste and quickened pace
I shall sit idly in my seat as they fly,
my hear resembling the broken Vase,
sitting chipped and broke,
as the music and sound of the night,
befriends my ears and invoke,
the sense of will and might
that I shall rise from my eerie seat
and move and motion change
for this my heart is over being beat,
and so I shall get to building some strange
fort and wall, with sufficient space
to roam and thrive in the hearts fair keep,
and I shall always be prepared incase
the bitterness of the world shall creep
upon me and spring in the night,
I shall truly be at arms, always
willing to show them my might,
and give them that which will amaze
even the stubborn and prideful
that they may feel as well the renewed
strength of my heart.

I had a poem in mind,
take note that it is not this one,
Pray that the lord grant me mercy,
and clarity,
that I might write the words I had intended
free from restriction,
that my heart pours out onto this
the world wide web.

You hear the sound of couples
dressed high and fancy,
mingle as their souls tap the floor outside,
to the sound of strings, brass, and percussion
tempering themselves for the heat of music.
The passionate movements of bows,
batons, and fingers, to form the wonderful
elegance, behind the masterful music composed
by fellows now long gone.

Ah, to the sounds of majors and minors
my heart feels at ease, to the subtle creaking of chairs,
to the rhythmic chimes and strums of instruments within
the skilled orchestral ensemble. All this,
topped by the eccentric and emphatic movements
of the swift conductors hands, and arms,
watch the spring, when the crescendo arrives
his spring is let loose, and jolts,
currents, swift, sleek, fluent motions, baton in one
passionate turning of pages as music flies on by,
at 4/4 pace.

Oh, the fine thunder of the percussion,
and deepest strums of bass at the right,
combined in a movements finale, to make an
awe-inspiring harmony, that one does not
really expect, with two previous movements
just elegant and peaceful,
such a quickened pace and depth of drum
and strum takes us all by surprise.

Then, Silence,
joyful applause,
continuous applause,
then its all over,
and we head home.

I walk in the forest,
the most beautiful forest,
full of the most beautiful trees,
and filled with a mighty breeze.
This forest is filled with the most
wonderful trees, I become lost
in the beauty of the forest,
thats all around me,
Beautiful Women

Such a rare sight,
In the dead of the night,
When all is resting and nesting,
pushing past all the testing,
is the one delicate flower,
not a plant revolved around power,
but more faithful strength,
embracing the renewing love
of its father.
This flower,
the rarest sight,
gave off one thing,
one small thing,
that meant the entirety of the world,
one
single
tear,
for it was made alive,
healed,
restored,
by the fathers caring,
tender love.

On and on and on,
down the rusted tracks,
screech and screams,
as horns howl in the night,
as we steam down our tracks.
Stations await,
people to collect and carry to
the point where they must go.

On the straights you can race ahead,
on the curved and bent, slow and steady,
I hope to come to the station,
where I lose not one of you my friends,
yet, at every station along my rusted track
I lose someone, and gain another,
but it doesn't negate the pain,
I dont want some to leave my train.

So many unchartered channels,
and coursing currents, in the deepest ravines,
or the steepest hills,
masked in shadow, drenched with emotion,
this is the human heart.

The poor explorer,
the one who wants to know every nook and cranny,
must endure the rain, heat, and cold,
the light and dark,
he persists, deep into the human heart.

That poorest fellow,
but by choice he carries on.

In every season,
in all our misfortune,
he persists until every sector,
square and quadrant of the vast human hearts
expanse, is chartered, and know,
leaving nothing to mystery.

The poet wanted no money,
nor the overwhelming land
nor property, but the wealth
of the heart, and of the soul,
and so he commenced his
quest, to search himself,
of words, feelings, thoughts,
so that he might enrich
his very life, and live
once more as a content poet,
tho' to the world it leaves little to be desired,
but to he, it proved the most valuable thing
he could want.

I have no noble name,
no objects of great worth,
nor a penny to my name,
I have not the looks of a prince,
or equivalent charm,
no land, nor investments,
by all accounts of the world,
I am nothing,
yet by the standard of the Lord,
I have wealth of wisdom,
love, passion, trust, integrity….
or so I have been told,
my loyalty is unwavering,
my resolve immovable,
where there is evil,
my heart remains steadfast,
and it shall break upon me
as water does upon a rock.
You wonder as to why,
why you should trust me,
have I led you astray,
have I given such a false
impression that I might have
led you to believe that
confidence and respect is not
something I value,
for I can greatly assure you,
I do care greatly for it.

Tho’ by the standards of the world
I am but a broke, and lowly man,
to the other aspects of the world
I am surely rich,
I have no proof,
I have no support for these claims,
does my argument falter?
Nay, my heart is as much apart of these
words as my mind is for creating them,
I produce this testament in support
of my character, My heart,
my very being,
pray that you trust me,
for this is something I value.

Months of Joy, and life,
I had been warned time and time again,
yet still I refused to listen,
I came closer to the pits of despair,
than I had dared,
I was motivated, keen on getting what I wanted,
not even noticing the shadows that loomed,
I was ignorant, for I pursued selfish bliss.

My heart was wrong, my mind always was,
given false hope, believed the devils lies,
I did things that in the end resulted in cries
for help. I had not listened,
my faith had waned,
my heart had sunk,
and in pursuit of False hope,
I died inside.

The path was long, arduos, enshrouded
in the darkest mist, with ferocious noises,
I stumbled and fell for ever and ever,
until, I smashed upon the ground with
suddenness and hurt,
It all clicked into place,
finally sense reappeared,
I was in the darkest place,
the devils house,
his door was locked behind me,
Yet it was not too late,
One loud cry,
one ferocious roar,
and he thundered through the door,
and light illuminated all that was there.

Despite what I had heard, all I had feared
Nothing at all was there.

And so began the long journey home,
through the lit up forests,
with Christ as a beacon,
his word as a torch,
my heart as a final bastion,
and I was heading home…
that didn’t make it easy though,
I had to fight,
hard and long,
up the hill,
through the storm and dry,
I was scarred, and wounded
in the soul,
this is my battle,
my painful experience,
Pray this message touch
your soul:
“Dont ignore the warnings,
and beware of the mist.”

Listen, learn, act and obey,
this is what I hadn’t learned
yet upon this day,
I have.

Under the palest moonlight,
the wolf does howl and cry,
“I am alone! I am alone”
to which others far off reply,
“So am I”,
“me too”,
and he wasn’t alone in being alone.

Your heart, My dear,
Is ever being intertwined with mine,
a close knit fabric of love and romance,
like the elegant fabric of silk, or lace,
so fine.

To you I earnestly look,
and see my heart lose control,
and words pour out like,
water from a fountain piece.
These my days of joyful delight,
are brought on by you,
your smile,
and your beautiful blessed heart.

Prayers are lavished upon you,
as are smiles, and loving remarks,
each day is a blessing to which I inquire
"Lord, How many more will you bless me with?"
and hope he says a million more,
more often than not, I hope for
million upon millions of days, weeks, months,
that I may spend with you.

I admit, not all things I do demonstrate
love, some things I say are bitter and harsh
but I pray you forgive me, and apologise swiftly,
Always. My heart is for you,
not against, I cannot have you believe that.
I say I love you,
and by all that I am,
I mean it.

At the lowering of the flag,
and the rise of white,
let it not be mistaken for cowardice,
but may it be perceived as wisdom,
that my heart, a battleground
torn and riddled with blood and scorches
is now the blessed land of peace,
that all foes are in full retreat,
and the drums of victory loudly beat
and the shout of triumphal praise.

And at the going down of the bitter red Sun,
when flames smoulder, and hearts surrender,
I shall rest easy in the night, knowing, knowing
no more shots and thunder ring to my ears,
nor the tortured screams of twisted souls,
as the sun slowly sets in its ****** colour,
the fields of red and crimson,
are washed clean by truth.

Relief, the greatest sigh of relief,
that this land suppressed by fear
is liberated by an almighty host angelic
in all its glory, that with every rhythmic step
and every lyrical chant,
the enemy trembles and breaks,
no wait, they retreat.

And now, this scorched field of battle
bloodied and burnt, is restored by Christ
to beautiful fields of green and life,
trees, forest, Golden sunlight, skies of blue,
air of purity, and a life renewed, and improved,
rivers ebb and flow, trees creak and groan
as birds sing their songs, and the world is once
again alive and fully well,
this is my world,
this is my human soul.

Sing me a song, o’ muse Calliope,
that in the summer solstice music
does release, wave upon wave of glory,
joy, and harmony, that with smooth lyric
this uneven heart might embrace
the golden summers dawn, that kisses
the newborn day, and nothing shall deface
this my radiant summers bloom.

The Things that we do,
the things that we say,
are ever in a state of constant change,
and life the great teacher,
provides us with influences
of both good and bad,
but the task of deciding which is which,
falls only to us.

Have I in youthful folly given devotion
to something that is naught but a dream
of ash and hollow pain, locked with envy
and anger. Am I pursuing something that
is nigh but a dream and something that is
truly not destined to be?
am I pursuing an idle dream?
Aye, this thought of mellow and unease,
plague this youthful mind,
and bring down this giant.

Let not loving words be rendered
unto people in fleeting moments,
moments of death, life, and marriage,
but instead let loving words,
in accordance with action and spirit,
be extended to everyone with whom
we may have contact,
from blood, to the youthful teen you
meet with passing glances.
Profess to love someone in every
moment, not just with words
and physical doting,
but with thoughts and attitude.
Let Love be rendered in every moment,
not just a few.

Come hither dear child,
and bequeath upon me
the declaration of your love.
A love which you hath in days
gone by professed before my
scandalous fellows, those
who would conspire even now
to make me dead and seal my fate.
Profess to love me yet again,
lest my masked enemies shall ****
me in the quiet of the night!

Profess to love me once more,
you my daughter whom I dearly
love, above all else this world may
give unto me. On this my deathbed,
profess to love me, before it shall fall
on the ears of the dead and have no
great effect on this my aged heart.
Prithee, let the last words I shall hear be;
'I love you!'

A man who wants The Girl,
not just any odd Girl,
Pitch a tent, and stock up on provisions,
for you had best be prepared,
to fight the long war for the woman you love.

How soon you may find yourself
wandering down the road through
tree and wood, and grass and butterfly,
and rays of dripping sunlight,
and fresh air,
tho' expect not that it may carry on forever,
for this road is unexplored before,
many have tried, but it is e'er changing
and soon enough the cooler air,
and the damper ground, and the
air is toxic, and full of ash, and smoke,
caused by deception and lies.
This is life, you are smothered, and
then able to breathe.

I can meander by,
and 'neath a clear sky,
lean against the frosted window,
and softly peer beyond, and see
you with him,
and shed but a single soft tear,
and wither up inside.
You might see this shadowy figure
leaning against the glass,
and a stream drifting down,
and I pray you are moved to investigate
and hear fates subtle hints,
as I grow jealous and envious,
of someone I despise for he has you
but I do not.

The Darkest Chasm,
the coolest dark,
The empty nights, of pillow coddling,
empty smiles, and days of hopeful longing
glances across the room at you
who I wish would notice me and come to my arms.
Nay, it cannot truly be
for you are deeply engrossed with another,
tho' he may questionable,
I sit idly by,
longing,
wishing,
dreaming,
I pray soon my feelings are returned

Whatsoever you shall do in life,
whether it is the writing of rich literature,
or walking a road till old age supersedes you.
Do what you do with grace and
heart, so that it shall be of simple
beauty and greater value,
for life wasted with idle antics and in
pursuit of useless kicks, is hardly
worth the time to live, and boast.

Life should blossom a thousand
new adventures, and an endless supply of
merry memory, tho' only a few shall be of
sorrow, pain, and hardship.
Such is life.