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Blue as the sky on a mid-winters day
Sharp as a knife that cuts through the haze
I seek a warm place in the arms of my love
I run after her as to catch a young dove
She catches the wind that blows from the sea
Now I'm growing old and she's growing free...

Wash away now these illusions of youth
Independent of madness, inconsistent with truth
So easy to remember yet harder to find
The ways of my youth when I was yet blind...
Traveler Tim

I wrote this in 1995 I think..
The gallop of horses against the ground,
The cries of men heard all around.
Their shields up and armor clashing,
Arrows and swords ready for lashing.

“Onward!” My king cried out,
Though our hearts were filled with doubt
Noticing fear and hesitation, my King turned and gently said,
“Friends, do not fret nor fear.”

“Dost thou think I am unafraid?
If so, my guise does betray.
My heart is filled with worry and despair,
Hidden by this armor I wear.”

“I am afraid of tomorrow
For what if that day only brings sorrow?
Yet, I am here, with all of thee;
By one voice, we all agree.”

“There is still good in this world–
The goodness of men still preserved.
Acts of kindness here and there,
And love spread everywhere.”


“For those with me, ride!
Raise your swords and put up your arms!
For though darkness shall rule this day,
We shall keep it at bay!”

As my King rode to battle, we were at His side.
From our mouths, proud voices we cried.
The sun’s rays shone through the gray;
My King was the one who led the way.

He proclaimed with a strong voice,
“Onward, men of bravery! Onward!
For on this day, we shall rejoice!
We shall not fear but fight forward!”
I read "The Charge of the Light Brigade" and wanted to write  my own version. I also took inspiration from the Lord of the Rings movies, particularly the part where Aragorn gave his speech at the Black Gate.
It was only . . . a long time ago . . .

Living came easier
and harder were the mistakes . . .
or was it the other way around ?

Love was always one of those mistakes

(another after another)

Breathing is the hardest thing to do with a heart of
shattered glass

And the shards cut deeper when you try to pick up the pieces

And before you know it everybody sees you bleeding all over yourself

or is it you hope they do ?

After a long while it doesn't really matter . . . does it ?
White paint finish
On Georgian stucco
Over red-brick.

Bomb falls at night

Dawn breaks
Tiny flecks Twinkle

Like stars
Evening is on the take
The sun herself senses it
Her heat is slipping away
Eclipsed by cold, arctic tendrils
Rilling through the fragile geography
Earth is a strong fighter though
Able to restore itself in serene defiance
Light she brings to keep night in its place
Written for the challenge to write an acrostic poem to the word Ethereal, using the word serene somewhere in the poem by Mrs. Timetable.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5012875/ethereal-acrostic/
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