Saturday, September 20, 2008

Fine Young Bloke

Sprouts push hard against the stubborn earth
Everyday, we witness the miracle of birth
While a wise, kind, and caring being is dying,
A tiny young bird falls, and begins flying

A boy heaves a stone and learns to kill,
In the vast world some people are not free still,
Someone raises up in anger and shouts,
In the intelligence of men there still lay doubts;

A heart is toyed with and broke,
By a careless but rather fine young bloke,
It is a miracle for anyone to stand,
Alas all I want is to hold someone’s hand.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Star Search

I lay atop my bed; I’m bare,
I look up at the endlessly wide sky, and stare.
I cannot see the bright stars that glare,
Yet I know that they are there.
The girl I long to hold is out somewhere.

I must find her without any haste,
I long for her sweet lips to taste,
Without her life is but a waste.
Through my body coldness raced,
Only she can warm me with my heart embraced.