Today and tomorrow will see the posting of poems I discovered while looking through my files. These puppies are about five, maybe six years old. Or maybe older. I think I wrote them back when I was going to college.
I make no guarantees to the quality and worth of these pieces. I show them only for comparison. This is what I was like then, this is what I am like now.
I reiterate that I am not a poet. I just seem to write a lot of poetry…
I see not from eyes within
I hear not over the rising din
I feel not the growing breeze
I speak not with frightening ease
The way I travel, once white with snow
Is but the way I dare not go
And growing great gray clouds do shed
Icy cold tears upon my head
When I stumble here unto the ground
As darkness threatens without a sound
Oh, what sin have I committed?
To which great crime have I admitted?
What dread deed do I dare not see?
By what right must this be?
I see not from eyes without
I hear not though they scream and shout
I feel not save the growing fear
I speak not now bleak Death draws near
White noose around my neck grows taunt
And this life no longer I haunt
The gray people around me they do gasp
Why they did this I cannot grasp
But as darkness ends this awful dream
A last thing I try to scream
“What sin did I commit!
To what great crime did I admit!
‘Tis your dread deed you dare not see?
By what right you let this be?”
All cry innocence in Death’s sweet face
But none escape His tight embrace
No matter what truth appeared
Nor what truth was truly feared
yes a nice sounding poem. but poetry is not all about rhyming. if u read some of the great poets work they rarely ryhme except when the effect is truly needed. not ryhme just for ryhmes shake.
You have a valid point. I was a younger man when I wrote that. Perhaps younger than I first thought.
In my defense, though, I would never put my poetry up as great . If you enjoyed it, if you thought it good or even just fair, that is enough.
Thanks for the comment!
Further thought: It’s a bombastic little poem, isn’t it?