Voices Of The Heart - Emmenay (simple e reader TXT) 📗
- Author: Emmenay
Book online «Voices Of The Heart - Emmenay (simple e reader TXT) 📗». Author Emmenay
and RedStormy are two well known American poets whose works can be read at www.haikuhut.com
(68) WISH
Harsh winds howl,
Breezes sigh,
Then silence!
Ere the fast approaching storm.
Deep within something grows,
Withers,
To grow again...
Why can't things remain,
Sometimes!
(69) UNBOUND
Yes, the days keep passing by:
The traveller meets strangers,
His way moves on...
Rest is hard to find,
Wayside taverns abound,
No peace for the restless mind,
Always to be found.
Ceaseless struggle going on,
Wounding feeding upon wound,
Dreams, fancies, perceptions, facts,
A constant, weary roam --
A sadness, unknown,
Gripping, to be owned.
Smiling face in shanty towns,
Folks return greetings with frowns.
Passes on:
Tired gallop,
Drooping gait, heavy stirrups,
But head held high,
Himself his own, no one nigh,
Goes the pilgrim, unbound.
(70) SOARING
Bleak afternoon,
Weary heart and mind,
Cosmic blankness stares at world.
Sullen looks,
And dismal laughter,
Remind me of an old film.
Bergman-like,
In a gas-lit street,
Your presence still pervades.
Liz Browning,
And her fine love poems,
Lend life to a bygone theme.
Future stares,
Like a bright rainbow,
As you wave at me to soar.
Nothing now,
Seems important than,
You and me in sky’s caress.
*******THE END*******
Dear reader, If you have enjoyed my poems or have suggestions then feel free to write to me at emmenay@gmail.com Imprint
(68) WISH
Harsh winds howl,
Breezes sigh,
Then silence!
Ere the fast approaching storm.
Deep within something grows,
Withers,
To grow again...
Why can't things remain,
Sometimes!
(69) UNBOUND
Yes, the days keep passing by:
The traveller meets strangers,
His way moves on...
Rest is hard to find,
Wayside taverns abound,
No peace for the restless mind,
Always to be found.
Ceaseless struggle going on,
Wounding feeding upon wound,
Dreams, fancies, perceptions, facts,
A constant, weary roam --
A sadness, unknown,
Gripping, to be owned.
Smiling face in shanty towns,
Folks return greetings with frowns.
Passes on:
Tired gallop,
Drooping gait, heavy stirrups,
But head held high,
Himself his own, no one nigh,
Goes the pilgrim, unbound.
(70) SOARING
Bleak afternoon,
Weary heart and mind,
Cosmic blankness stares at world.
Sullen looks,
And dismal laughter,
Remind me of an old film.
Bergman-like,
In a gas-lit street,
Your presence still pervades.
Liz Browning,
And her fine love poems,
Lend life to a bygone theme.
Future stares,
Like a bright rainbow,
As you wave at me to soar.
Nothing now,
Seems important than,
You and me in sky’s caress.
*******THE END*******
Dear reader, If you have enjoyed my poems or have suggestions then feel free to write to me at emmenay@gmail.com Imprint
Text: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK CAN BE REPRODUCED OR COPIED IN ANY FORM, ANYWHERE, WITHOUT THE PRIOR, DULY SIGNED APPROVAL OF THE AUTHOR.
Publication Date: 09-25-2008
All Rights Reserved
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