Musings to forget.

I've cared, I've dreamt, I've hoped, But from me life must have left. Everyone has their time, Mine is now, I fear That smile the oft lit my face, is gone. My cares, my hopes, my dreams, Are done. The curtains must close. Goodnight, and safe home, to you all.

A Love Poem. Thin strands of gold, With the shine that made Jason so bold , Fine tendrils of oriental lace Which frame her most perfect face. She is a perfect specimen. An icon of the human race. Her smile is so sweet, A face I long to meet. She is beauty personified, Such looks as hers, Stray beyond what the world deserves. For she is a gift, like Jesus' myrrh, Like the hellenic sirens, Her looks capture and allure. Her beauty radiates through the night, Angelic, a reverent sight. A Lighthouses beacon beaming, Guiding through the clouds teeming with that solemn murk, which chokes our joy. To think her potential lacks is false, Like the self doubt she harbours sure. Her features, inwards and out Are strands of a web. Threads beautiful alone, But create nature's art, That will never ebb. The light of joy she brings, Draws me in with awestruck gaze, like the songs the Greek Calypso Relayed. Her looks divine, Matched with a brain so fine, Her mind the work of a Go

J oy.     We search for it, u nder every stone,      It is Aaron's golden calf, s haped in desperate hope,      A ghost we create. t urn your gaze inside. S top this outward search,      You are your own god, m ake yourself your church.      Worship and pray, i nside yourself, nowhere else,       The key to joy, your ark does lay l ook with yourself.        Thats where it is found. e ach of us need to do one thing,        Just smile.              

Tattered shadows lay across True beauty disguised as dross. Sullen forms on the surface lay. Shining gold, Dormant. Reflections of Yeats' pavement grey. But joy cannot, And will not, Be kept at bay. From those who seek. Those children, Lost, Wanderers, The meek. They will not find, For they do not seek. Gold lays beneath the veil, A cascade of dust, Broken fragments, Of a child's forgotten fairytale. Look upwards. And you shall prevail, Life a sinking boat, Which you must bail. Happiness cannot be expected, It is you. Yourself, your gilded thoughts, The part inside that lays, Neglected. Happiness, comes from within, To on the surface be reflected. Reflections will appear, In things far and near. Cast off the sullen cloak, Have. No. Fear. Happiness is not him Or her Or it. Happiness is not some thing Is not a bottle, Nor in a book writ. It lays beneath the grime, and grit, A candle, Waiting patiently, To be lit.

Poems should reflect their tone, their values: 3 poems precede this note. They are not perfect, they are rough and rushed, like lives struggled through. Their syntax is bordering on hectic, the chaos of the dark. The words chosen aren't always the best, mistakes and poor choices are part of humanity. Rhyming is constant, repetitive, it goes through the motions other than a complete infrequent discontinuation. Much like the rhythm in our daily lives. The personification of the darkness, and the swapping between darkness being something evil or something to cherish. This reflects the emotions in our lives, the times we want to shine and be seen and run from the dark, versus when we want to hide, put on a mask and be invisible. Word choice switches between childlike words, to overly complex. We all want and try to become a child again, but sometimes we feel we must attempt to be considered mature and intelligent, but as an act. The words who's meanings are slightly o

Darkness is most beautiful of all Within it we can hide each fall Each man is equal, each man is free No more than equal each of us can be The light shows our every flaw Before jealousy grips us with green claw In light we cannot hide With each comment we lose our pride. The darkness hides what light will show Our hurts, our fears, what makes us low But the light illuminates these So others in search of happiness can do as they please. Why do we celebrate light above dark In light we leave ourselves open to each emotional mark, When in darkness we can be safe In the knowledge our flaws with us will stay To not admonish, our egos safe.

Through the darkness they beat, Black, unforgiving through the sleet The darkness hides their harsh intent To perch upon the bright metal bed The evil they bring comes quick As in throes comes one final kick The darkness hides their harsh intent  To perch upon the bright metal bed The angel of death screams out once more As grotesque claws clack sharp on the floor The darkness hides their harsh intent To perch upon the bright metal bed A boy so young just barely a man His father simply wills it God's plan But alas no saviour doth remain All that's left to him suffering and pain The bright metal bed his last rest Throughout his life he gave his best But death flew down upon angel wings To take him in darkness on hidden wings What a great hope they all will say But in the darkness one man will lay Alone and tortured with pleading unheard As through the darkness comes death  To soon his demise he met  They say,

Why do we celebrate the light, That doth illuminate the flaws. Those that are hidden in the night. The darkness, wraps around and hides, With its tarrish gauze. Upon the surface calm they float, Like summer ducks or mighty boats. In that gentle light they see, Everything, Above. That murky expanse,  Where hurt, and problems lay. As they float along in their, Joyful. Trance. Unseen below, wretched creature, Cloaked, and buried below. Fires itself, a lacking feature, Up. Up. Up. Into the light we see it clear, Ruining perceptions we held, So dear. Why do we love the light, To me it is naught but a blight. To hide our sorrow out out sight, Is all we can do.