Poems of LOss and Memory


The Locked Box

The box was small and ornate,

the lock, completely secure.

I needed the treasure inside,

of that, I was certainly sure.

I examined the sides,

I examined the seams,

I tried to pry open the lid,

but whatever it held,

so deep down inside,

was completely and utterly hid.

I picked at the lock, and tried to break in,

I studied for hours on end.

I knew that one day,

I’d defeat that old box,

and get to the treasure within.

And in all of that time,

while I studied that box,

and tried to satisfy pride,

not once did I see

what I already had:

the open box by its side.

The Tapestry


I wove my lies with yarns of gold,

Into a brightly colored frame,

I wove them tight to try and hide,

The imperfections made.

The images the yarn drew out

Were anything but plain,

With the scene I would distract you,

From the truth I held at bay.

I stood back to inspect my work,

And marvel at the tale

Which I would place before you, 

Knowing my lies could never fail.

You also looked at that web of lies,

And all that you could see,

Was not a work of gold,

But a faded tapestry.


Into the dark of unknown dread I go,

armed only with my faith,

my hope, my pride.

Where I will find myself I do not know,

but still I seek the mystery inside.

Here in my heart a fire starts to burn,

as what I need is still yet to be seen,

and circumstances help to make me learn,

my senses are not all that very keen.

For here I think I’ve found the thing I need,

but then I find the treasure I can’t hold.

Once more I try to follow every lead,

before the trail ahead once more goes cold.

Perhaps one day I’ll know how very sad

it was to lose what I already had.

The Road I Travelled On


The road behind was filled with loss,

Tragedy and pain.

I spent my time with thoughts of love,

I was never to regain.

Ahead of me the path stretched far,

As far as I could see,

I could not see through twists and turns,

The way that path would lead.

Instead I turned to look behind,

At the road which I had crossed,

Which travelled on to another place,

That to me was forever lost.

The road I’d walked was long,

And I studied every turn,

But never looked ahead to see

The road I travelled on.

The Storm


I hear the rain falling,

Softly, gently.

It falls on the roof above my head,

Like small stones pounding down, and

slipping off the eaves onto the window.

I listen, and I wait,

For I know that more will come.

And as I wait, I hear it.

The thunder,

Rumbling in the background, like a big cat,

angry at being disturbed.

I listen, as the storm approaches.

The rain gets harder, faster,

Pounding down from the sky, on the roof,

through my heart.

Louder and louder,

And then the crack of lightening.

Till all of a sudden it stops.

The rain lessens,

The light reappears,

And the world becomes bright again.

The storm never lasts for long.

First Song

I sing a song of days of old,

When darkness fell, and nights grew cold.

And there I sat, and waited for,

The day to bring the light once more.

I did not know the hope inside,

That shone above my strength and pride.

But there it sat, and waited too,

Until I could see the morning dew.