|
| Now Come into my pretty Isle,
My weary western wanderer.
Far away is as it seems,
And so alone shall shelter.
Come along, unto my sails,
As weary Islands go.
Prosper merry as I went,
The night shall only show. | | |
| Untrampled footsteps,
Borderline Dreams.
Occasion for sinners,
Alive if it seems.
Given to wander,
Alone at the shore.
Wanton to whisper-
I am no more.
Am as my heart beats,
Live as I can.
Wanton to whisper,
Far away sands. | | |
| I would like to thank my friend Tharen for giving me the wonderful Idea to post my poems here. . . .Below are some . . . Kyle has done me a huge favor by contributing to some of them and helping find inspiration. .
Thank You
Enjoi. | | |
| The Thunder of a young Lovers Cry-
Crashing into a Dark night,
Like waves in High tide.
Moonlight, guiding the way for tonight,
and the Stage for all Glorious actions,
Of games and Dreams
In making It ours.
| | |
| Far From The Grounds of a Distant Likelihood
I stand waiting,
for nothing to Occur-
Half asleep-
Alone breathing In Memories,
And dreaming of a sequence of Heartbeats.
Timing-
ticking down to an unexplainable future,
......of the memories,
and lives,
re-examined and thought out.
Open your mind,
Breathe
Experience spawning memory can never be erased.
Neither the sun, nor the Moon,
Or the high rising tide
Far Fom The Grounds of a Distant Likelihood | | |
|
