Easter

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Hey there everyone.

Just wanted to wish all you out there who celebrate it, A happy Easter! It’s raining here but I hope that doesn’t dampen the day. Well enjoy it. “May your baskets be full and may your eggs be hard-boiled”.

Happy Easter!

My Queen

She has left.

The throne is empty

My kingdom is

in chaos.

The halls

of my castle

are silent.

Her laughter

does not ring off

the walls.

My defenses are down

and I am Alone.

Return soon my Queen

The fires on the watchtower

are lit.

And the gate will open for you.

Love Dies in Winter

The air is stirring,

Bringing scents of spring.

Mown grass,

Flowers blooming,

The smell of

A fresh world.

But things are dying

Winter weeds

Flowers

That still hang

From trees.

Love…, the winter kind,

Is snuggled in front

Of the fire,

Ready to burn.

It is melting in the

Bright light of day.

Swept into the sewers

And reservoirs

Of spring.

The green of awakening

Smothers the grey and brown

Of winter love.

That cold safe, love

Tucked away in the warm rooms

Of the houses of

The hearts.

The truths of this love

Are shone in the sun of spring

To have died with

The gray of winter.

The Future

She sits there,

looking so young,

new to the world.

In her eyes

the light

of ages shines.

Wisdom

learned,

yet never taught.

Innocence still

lingers on her face,

but knowledge stands

in her mind.

Pride glides

to the top

of my well-worn soul.

The next generation

has come

and I feel

all’s well with the world.

Pen

I have been trying to branch out. My poetry style usually involves emotions and feelings. They often start happy, and finish wistfully. or the opposite. I think the whole world comes down to how people feel. Emotion is what gives us our sense of who we are. It drives us in all we do. Yet, in some instances you must have restraint. We’ve all had a job where we wanted to say something but did not. Even in these instances drive is born, whether your impulse is to change your job, or change the way it’s implemented, or how you are treated. It all starts with how you feel. So I decided I’d challenge myself by writing about inanimate objects I saw in my home office. I chose the chair and a pen. I began to write poems about these inanimate objects, but I found along the way that my emotions about some of these objects crept into my work. It gave them a sort of life, an extension of my own thoughts and feelings. This is what happens when you write. In the book I’m working on,  I see a bit of myself in each of the main characters. They are not me but I can relate to the emotions they are feeling. I think this bleeding in of part of my soul gives these characters more depth. This is the key to bringing them to life, and It all started with emotions. Well anyway that’s enough of that diatribe. Here is one of those poems about an inanimate object, It is titled “The Pen”. I would appreciate your feedback on emotion or just what you think of the poem. Either way I hope you enjoy it.

The Pen

You spill your blood

upon the pages of

my mind.

Giving every drop

until you have given your last

in sacrifice.

My words could not

exist without you

My pages could not

be filled without you

You give

uncaring

That is your purpose

and you have fulfilled it

perfectly.