Keyword: poem

They must not a wrong foot put, or they will end up in the soot. Scientists reckon the thinking part of the brain is suppressed during dreaming. So how come I can write poetry in my sleep? I was dreaming that I'd taken a photo of workmen trudging down a wintry street, where the last remnants of snow had somehow changed to piles of soot, and it was whilst trying to think of a rhyming caption that I came up with the above gem, which is certainly more ingenious than anything my waking m…

Special Gifts Special gifts aren't hidden up under a tree. Special gifts are given so all can see. They last a life time and for a day. Keep us warm when loved ones are away. They kiss your heart all through the night. Bring you joy of such delight. Spcial gifts are hope, faith, and love. Special gifts come from only above. For these gifts I have with thee, And are never hidden under a Christmas Tree. (C) Copyright 2008 Kalena Reyna All Rights Reserved By The Author

deutsch Muse On the side of the way small - only weak a glimmering glow showing hardly a streak It catches my eye talking to me Drawing me towards it's own to be Making me bow take a look inside seeing a joy in the weakest of light Craning to show me and opening up though hardly only and thinking of me It shows me the cold how deep the cut but glimmering gold at slightest touch the glowing grows closing in on me e…

lying in the gutter rain is drumming down on me sitting lying wasted don't want to know don't want to see just how my sadness tasted remembrance of an older time spent and gone - forfeited like a shiver of a crime being soon be hated remembrance of what could have been should it be regretted remembrance of a world once seen being not this wetted changing to a newer self full of force and will lying on a lower shelf waiting for me still getting u…

the void Sometimes I feel all alone Going on on my own Feeling empty and shallow Nothing, all hollow I sit in my darkness awaiting a goddess waiting for nothing for silence to fall Embracing the shadows grazing on meadows in my deepest soul Feeding on nothing but feeling it burn Longing for something For something to yearn Feeling quite lonely but only quite for there is only One feeling light He is inside me He is me But to see him is often hard…