You don't understand
You can't percieve
How I long for you
How I long for your touch
How much I love you
I try my best to show
my love for you
You seem unable to see
How life could be

Lifes a mystery
It's been a misery
My love is so great
You don't percieve
The things I do
My love burns for you
My heart needs a soul
to make it whole
My love I save for you

Oh darling look at me
With pools of love.

I look in your eyes but
I dont see my love

The worst part
Is not lying awake at night
Too tired to cry

The worst part
Is not seeing other people
Do so much better than I
With just a stroke of luck

The worst part
Is not sacrificing
Things I love
To impress you
To no avail

The worst part
Is not
Wanting something I’ll never get

You see, I’m used to all this
The worst part
Is worrying about you

Sitting here
The stroke of midnight
Calls upon my deepest fear
One minute of silence
I give homage
To every wasted tear

Because

I am the compost
Of age and years
My waste of time is my life revered

At midnight
Is a new year
Out of this compost
A chance for happiness
Will appear

She looked into
my eye

held it longer
for a while
more than three seconds
not done
unless for nightly fun
but none was done

so keep away from strangers' eye
many em vie
why feel shy

hold on for a while
in lovedly's style

Endless days' relentless bombardment laid the Somme landscape waste;
Shells by the million, a devastating deathly doom-laden din,
Craters filled with rotting bodies, men and horses,
United in indifferent, undifferentiated bestial meaninglessness;
And the helpless soldiers sang and prayed in the company of the dead.
If there were, if there really were, a god in bloody Heaven,
Surely he would have bent a holy ear, opened his holy eyes?
But no, in his divine wisdom he let it all happen.
Free will, old boy, don't you know?

They say we all breathe deeply the same air.
Are we or are we not the children of the same life?
Somewhere far away, where even snails carry their burden with pride,
a fossil Sun is shining for the dead as well.
If what we can’t see, can’t hear and can’t feel does not exist,
the astral explosions,
the galaxies lost beyond the horizon
and the fever of lovers who are being consumed by nothing at all
don’t exist either.
We all carry our past like tired snails,
by ourselves or in pairs, we hold hands or hold our breath,

The old year ended
so glad to see it leave
the new year extended
this was too much to believe

Looking ahead
my only relief
scattered and dead
like an old fall leaf

nothing there but a tunnel of light
how to get through
this was my plight
hope will surely ring loud and true

The skies' would turn black and darken the sky
Mad rushes of people will scream and cry
Time would stop, Im not going to lie,
We'd see the depression return.
How would we get by?
No sunlight, no one in sight
No one knowing how to make things right
Starring out the window into the frightening night
Gazing at the planes' as they start to take flight.
Hundreds of heavy boots stomping down the road
ordering civillians to hide and stay low
Terrified children gathering around slow

Sitting by the frog pond
In the cool moonlight
Of a summer's eve,
Listening to the nocturnal croaks
From the bullrushes,
I wait for my prey,
Silently.

A movement spied, and I leap and
The slimy creature is in my grasp.
See! With an elegant paw-flick,
It sails through the air
To land where my waiting claws
Are ready for fun and games.
For me, anyway.

Reading and Analysing Poetry

As a poet when you read your peers poetry is it a quick read, instant opinion and move on? Do you really think about the content of the poem, the technique, how well crafted it is. What the message really is? Do you tick like because the poet posted a poem, and make gushing comments without too much real thought? Or do you read it several times, really analyse the piece and make constructive comments? Do you hope that people will take time and trouble with reading your poetry to give it the attention it deserves?