I guess I'll post a few of my poems here to get things started, if you don't mind. They are older works of mine, I wish I could find some more current ones.
These three are the poems people seem to enjoy the most out of my work.
(Warning: They aren't that great.)
Summer Breeze Brings Summer Dreams
The sunlight reflects off the glass in the streets
making a tiny constellation; my own personal galaxy.
Running along a sky of thousands of stars beneath my feet
I feel free as a breeze, light as a feather.
I float along like the clouds, billowing in the trees;
flying swiftly in the wind following the scents of roses and heather.
I land in a soft pile of lilacs thinking of what things may come;
possibly the twlight hours and the coming of the moon.
But alas, these are nothing but lovely daydreams in the sun.
Lovely Autumn
Sitting in the warm glow of the early morning sun.
A light breeze teases my hair and brings fond memories.
The smile on my face creeps up without warning.
Your voice a lovely sound in my head running around.
A robin sits on a nearby tree singing it's tune; another answers it's call
Sweet nature. Another beautiful fall.
Lost at Sea
When will I open my eyes?
When will I see these images in front of me?
I feel it all slip away, through my fingers.
The tiniest resolutions, granular, slipping away.
How will I explain this?
What possible rationalization can I come up with to excuse these actions?
Will I ever make up this mind? Or will it make me over?
Changing, transforming rapidly.
Transcending past the place where I left my mark.
The hull is cracked and stained.
The rock, which is it's resting place, has become buried under these sands.
A tempest can come and blow everything away. A swift breeze to blow it down.
Hanging in the halls is my portrait, cracked and torn. The colours bleed, the image fades.
When will I open my eyes? It may already be too late.
I see the waves, in the distance.
Have they come to wash these sands away? Or have they come to bury me deeper?
I'll sit in these empty halls, listening to the bow break, waiting for the cradle to fall.
I'll sit along this empty hull, listening to the creaks and moans of this great ship.
Just sitting and listening for the crash of the oncoming waves in the distance.