My Poems

I'd like to start by saying I have written many poems, and these are just some of them. Perhaps, from your reading of them, I've got it published and you think it's worth buying. That's good, for it would make me lots of money. Perhaps it means I put this file online somewhere and linked you to it, or a friend of yours found it and linked you to it.

Whatever the reason, I hope you like my poems. I'll be updating this every once in a while. So yeah, this is just a collection of my poems. I'm currently writing a somewhat-long one that I'll update into this in the future. Expect some more poems soon, but for now, enjoy the ones called "The Sea", "Unnamed Reminiscing of a Broken Heart" and "Soldier of Love".

The Sea

They say that there's a river,
and that it leads to the sea.
But as I know and you know,
the river only will be deeper,
And although when it is, you see,
it isn't really how,
But indeed the way.

Love and life are on this river,
this river deeper than the sea,
The sea that goes on as far as you can see.
No matter how much you try to cross, however,
the river seems to deepen.

And it always will, no matter what,
and like a cut,
In the soul of each and everyone of us,
it grows the pain slowly,
And is quite too painful wholly.
for any of us.

But that river gets to the sea,
and in that sea we all are at one time.
Dead we might be, or live perhaps,
but you know all you see,
And all that you mime,
is there like bottlecaps.

For the river is life,
the river is death,
But the sea, the sea is a knife.
a knife in the river,
That makes the river shiver.

And in that sea,
that deadly sea:
Is all desire and all fear,
it is after life, but yet before.
It is something you don't know,
until it is gone.

Unnamed Reminiscing of a Broken Heart

A year before, I saw her one day,
and I recognized her beauty.
Her eyes hazel like an acorn,
Her hair a goldish-brown like hay,
And I thought she felt the same for me.

Once, I held her hand in mine,
Twice, I did the same and thought she liked me for sure,
but how I was wrong. She felt not for me.
I called her few, and she said nein.
And so, I knew it was wore,
much like an old golf tee.

And then, much to my surprise,
it turned even worse.
She didn't just not feel the same,
but hated me as cold as ice.
So with a face like that of a horse,
I sulked for the time being.

For her name was Catherine,
and she wasn't to be mine.
But at the time,
I still was sorrowed.
Time passed,
and the sorrow was like a rhyme;
here yesterday
gone today.

Soldier of Love

There she is, thinks the boy,
seeing his angel of all the world-
little does he know that she's not to toy,
and he says to himself "I will be bold."

So he walks, over there- and hugs her, holding her dear.
She doesn't grin, or even smile- pushing him away from her...
And this boy, isn't easily put away like a mirror-
so he says "why don't you love me back- my love is sure"

The girl sighs,
and rolls her eyes-
She says, "Love is a bit too much for me,"
So this boy, walks away- wishing their love could be...

Then came war- and he was put through.
And the girl, whom he's lost feeling for talks to him,
saying "I'm sorry for back then, I really love you now," to this average Joe
He shakes his head and says, that "love isn't for me anymore, my life is grim,"

Boarding the plane- as a soldier boy,
he sees the girl, crying in a city bench...
Realizing, she's not one to toy,
he feels a tear as he feels his heart open like a trench...

Many weeks pass, as he fights in the war...
Thinking of her, sitting there wishing for his love...
He says, "Love is fine, for younger men..." as he paddles his oar.
"But us guys, ain't so young," his comrades say. "For that dove."

In the town, the girl sits on the bench-
waiting for his safe return...
she hears a finch,
and knows her life isn't about to turn...

A year passes, before he returns-
and she finds him in a box.
Tears come down her checks as she mourns-
opening it to find he died from the pox.

Because he realized over There,
she's not to toy.
He fought for her over here,
and died as a soldier boy...

A soldier of love,
she said at his funereal,
as up flew a dove,
and then began the burial...