Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I’m reading a book of poetry
it's nine hundred pages long,
penned by a man of many dreams
whose words are historical songs.

I remember reading those words
when we studied him back in school,
the class was "American Lit"
masters of the "poets pool".

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
whose work has endured the years,
ole "Wordy Wadsworth” he was named
by the men who were his peers.

His writings contain many musings
spanning the centuries of time,
my favorite story of all
a narrative poem, "Evangeline".

This particular poem, a masterpiece
blending talent, knowledge, and heart,
containing pathos, love, and history
t’was recounting the “Cajun” start.

Numerous stories he's told
using plenty more words, or few,
tales wringing either hard, or soft
embellished with wondrous hues.

Spellbound, in awe of his words
I'm carried away on the wings,
of thoughts, dreams and fantasies
to where his poetic muse springs.
~
This was written one night after one of my many time of reading "Evangeline".
it’s such a beautiful story and touches my heart so deep, I have never been
able to get through it without crying my eyes out.
"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend VI "


I've told you of my many mind changes
Not just the surface dross, but the living
Core of the root. The blurred symptoms bending
My sight to destruction, the hate of ages
Thriving within, the tainted defenses
Of ego that burned pain with their weak soothing,
This I told you and more. The thorned purging
Of childhood's conjecture, the strength that is
Formed, sturdy and deep, in one days effort,
The acceptance of self, which slow but true
Did lift, this I told you and more. And the vast
Labors of molding the light and dark shape
That frames my world, now glinting a soft burst
Of love's color, this I've told you, and more.
"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend VIII "


We have thrown many hollow words at each
Other in fits of spite and calumny.
Hitting the mark has been very easy
For both of us. I sometimes try to leach
A fawned approval, and in secret reach
Out to shape you into what i truly
Wish existed. You, can with childish glee
Lie about anything, or deign to teach
Me of your rickety opinions as
If they were life's first law. But these course, bare
Faults that sting do not ensphere and compass
Our union, nor do we gasp unaware
Of just remorse, and blooms one clear thought that's
Held jointly,       perfect people live elsewhere.
I saw her first in the lighting flash
That lit her up in the storm,
The rain was beating on down to slash
Her more than shapely form,
She’d just emerged from a woodland copse
Was soaked as she could be,
So came to shelter beneath the
Mighty Oak, along with me.

Her hair was more than bedraggled, but
As black as a phantom crow,
Her clothes were old and ragged, but
They clung to her figure so,
I asked her what had possessed her then
To wander out in the rain,
She looked at me and began to pout,
‘I could well ask you the same.’

I said I wasn’t prepared for it,
It came down out of the blue,
Just as the sun went underground
And dark, so what about you?
She said that she only ventured out
When the daylight was eclipsed,
In wind and storm she was newly born
On an evening such as this.

But then she sighed and I saw her eyes
Weren’t blue or green, but black,
Her lips an unearthly red, like blood,
No lipstick looked like that.
She said, ‘they call me The Selfling, for
I offer myself for free,
I give whatever you want, but then
I take what I want for me.’

She lay down under that mighty tree
And pulled me down on top,
Onto a pile of Autumn leaves,
And said, ‘now don’t you stop.’
I must confess that I did no less
Than The Selfling said to do,
As she took me into that wilderness
There was pain and pleasure too.

Her teeth bit into my helpless wrist
As we rolled there in the mud,
I felt my essence begin to ebb
As she took a pint of blood.
When I awoke I was on my own
Though I caught a final glimpse,
Of her, in a flash of lightning, though
I’ve never seen her since.

David Lewis Paget
Oh that you were made of light
But I still crave for you in this darkness
To sleep with all that I can never be
For I am never enough on my own
To understand how to live
In a world as dark as my own
For the sun will be a long time in its rising
So the stars still cling to the sky
The moon she is full, and pours out tears of ice
Into the heavens to crown the earth

I am just this darkness
As you cannot see
I am all you never want to be

I am a good friend
To wreath your secrets in my shadows
And I cling to your broken pieces
Even as they split into my skin
Splinters of heaven, they find their way
Racing through watered down veins
To find a dark dark heart
With the quietest of mouths
And the most unconventional of minds
In the strangest of places
For shadows are not something you can seek
And life is not something that one can keep
I leave my body in your hands
I heard you headed on green lands
Since death angel is waiting for my soul
I give you whatever I have as whole
Will you be able to fulfill just a final wish
Please grave me on the green grass plains
Where I shall rest with all my pains...


©sim
Fictional write.
His graceful fingers softly brushed
over my thigh in a languid stroke,
sending a parade of shivers along.
Slanting him a sideways glance,
meeting blue sky experience
embedded in a roadmap of life weariness.
With a crooked smile and a raised
eyebrow he simply stated;
-Had we been born in the same era
I’d make **** sure these legs
would never walk out on me.

The imprint of his hand stayed
as a melancholic afterthought
long after I had wrapped up
the meeting and left for the airport.
Unfortunately the flight
did not include time travel,
which has been a top priority
on my wish-list lately...
In remembrance of an era lost. Firenze 2014
Ink floods these pages
Words cause more harm than good
Opening up old wounds
decipher feelings misunderstood

Reminiscing lost love
Analyzing mistakes made
Drowning in past feelings
Remembering all who betrayed

Putting pen to paper
Is my way to cope
Anger, lust, sadness, anxiety
Depression; a slippery *****

I must continue to write
To tear down these walls
Work through my issues
Before death I befall
Not once a one of us had ever thought,
   that day would be your last;
Or dreamed we'd have to say goodbye,
   far many years too fast.

You came into our life one day,
   few later, you were gone;
Each one of us still grieving now,
   but yet still moving on.

It's harder than we thought it'd be,
   if only we'd have known;
Our Father needed you today,
   His Angel, Home sweet Home.

You've got the best of teachers now,
   to learn your ABC's;
A playground made of purest gold,
   beside that Crystal Sea.

We're happy, yet we're crushed inside,
   still missin' you down here;
We're jealous yet we know you're blessed,
   you'll never shed one tear!

So as we're meeting here today,
   another year gone by;
We're proud of you no matter what,
   we KNOW you're soaring high.

We miss you each and every day,
   by now I'm sure you know;
That Heaven gained OUR precious gem,
   when Heaven gained YOUR soul!
I wrote this for  friend of mine who lost her 9 month old granddaughter.
Next page