poetry

What did you expect?

That it would last forever?

You knew;

We all knew.

I sit in unbroken silence

For I have nothing to say

To you.

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

Before love, you are human.

Before nation, you are human.

Before ideals, you are human.

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

From fair free lands, from far froathy waters - wreathing, rounding rocks - the wayward wind comes a-writhing

From dankest dells, from dim deeps - drowneds’ dusky dwelling - it’s shadow spins a solemn story, now screaming shrilly, now sleeping soundly

”Come o wanderer-wind, come tell thine thrilling tidings!”

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

Does warmth still linger in a dying flame?

Still burning in the hearth, though low it shrinks,

So little light and heat had to its name, 

That it might hardly be a fire at all, methinks,

But for the last few embers, glowing bright

Like stars amid a firmament of ash,

Or warriors who bravely stand and fight

Although they know well of steel's deadly clash. 

For as I watch them wink out, one by one,

I fear to be left trembling in the cold