purple magniece

Rewrite this sometime ian....

Anticipation

As I sit,

Awaiting your call,

I imagine...

Fields of immense pleasure conquered by moss aplenty.

Worlds of nature run rampant, a boreal forest enhance.

Times where nothing mattered, yet all could be lost.

When our lives were intertwined

And you cared about me.

A time where I could smile even though

You were the only good thing going for me.

But times past are times gone.

And love spent,

Is love gone.

Enlightenment

Could there be such a higher power?
Could divinity exist?
Could life be lived while sour?
Without the need to be fixed?

For every answer-less question
An angel gets her wings.
And for every earthly pension,
A child gets their means.

Within this world we call earth
A higher power seems to take hold.
But I must say, ever since my birth
I feel I've broken the mold.

For I don't feel a yearning for a Lord.
And lord-less I will remain Forlorn.

A man sits alone...

A man sits alone at dusk, darkness nipping at his ankles.

"Goodnight, my beloved." He says as the sun retreats.

He is crouched atop a grassy knoll in west Virginia,

Fresh grass smells pervade his nostrils as a penetrating 

Crimson red sun dominates his vision.

His beloved, he knows, is watching this very same sunset

Although she is over nine hundred miles away.

This thought, although comforting, brings him sadness.

For he knows, her heart is also aching.

Aching in this autumn breeze.

Hello today

Hey guys, I'm thinking about doing a poem-a-day thing for whoever reads this and it sounds like a good idea in my head. I'll most likely make one later tonight. If anyone wants any specific type of poem just leave it in a comment to this post and I'll do as many as I feel like doing. :)

To start my posts i give you...

Two poems by me :)

Eyes

Upon a glance they convey perfect beauty,
Without help they define:

Happiness
Sadness
Hopelessness
Fear


Whether happy or sad they cry
Whether loving or mad they see

Without our permission 
They tell everyone:

Who we are
How we are
And what we think.

You see,
These eyes of ours,
They tell us a story,
A story of happiness and sadness,
Of friends forever,
And friends forgotten.

Through our eyes we emit our soul,
The glossy film being a looking-glass
Of which we let ourselves escape.

It was within the fractions of a second
That our eyes met for the first time,
That all these truths became evident
To me.


Sleep


I can't sleep.
It's on my mind again.
You know what,
Or you don't.
I lay,
yet the transcendence
into sleep
does not come to me.
I lay
in the darkness of my room
awaiting the sleep these
tired eyes
Need.
and yes,
they Need.
what images
cause my brain to stir?
what is it up there that
allows no rest?
Frisbee playing,
excitement of events to come,
perhaps.

But I do know that sleep,
the activity in which
all I have to do is
become unconscious,
will not come.