Serious Poetry


Here is some poetry of a more serious nature.


They think me fey
And treat me as such,
A child of wind and rain.
Don't they know
I'm afraid of thunder?
They say they can see
Promise in my eyes,
But then, will-o'-the-wisp,
I lead them astray.
Ethereal, intangible,
I can be a Cheshire cat.
I'll fade away,
Leaving behind a smile,
Then that, too, is gone.
They dream me dark
With wicked bliss.
But I'm afraid of darkness
And bliss, wicked or not,
Is even more intangible than me.
A shadow, mist or fog,
In certain lights,
They don't see me at all.
Am I real, am I vague?
Illusion, masquerade,
My existence is elusive.
And every time they call me ethereal,
My existence is lessened.
One day they'll find me
No more.


In a snow filled,
Ice encrusted field
I built a single snowman
And named it after
Everyone who ever left me.
With my thinly gloved hands
Proving ice burns as much as fire
I turned my back
And walked away, thinking
This time I'm leaving you.
An icicle cracked and fell
From a distant tree
And I knew it was
The sound of your heart breaking.
How could I leave you knowing that?
In a wild panic
I wanted to run home
And tear the shelves out of my freezer
To make you a new home.
But reason called me crazy
For even thinking such a thought.
And so my frozen ice man
There was no way I could save you.
Everyday the sun shone brighter
Taking more and more of you away.
In a mud filled,
Barren little field
I mourned a single puddle
He had left me too.

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