Poetry what?
It's been a long time since I have written any poetry. Most of my writing has been articles or maybe the occasional bit of script work. But tonight I laid here unable to sleep yet again with insomnia taking over so I thought I would start writing. It is pretty free form, I have always preferred a more free form style to some of the more rigid poetic systems. This was written just straight from how I was feeling, as I tried to sort things and in the end found more questions and uncertainty than answers.
Behind Beyond These Walls
Eyes that shimmer like stars in the night,
seeing and unseen beyond the silent verge.
The stolid walls piled to the heavens
A cairn to that which was never there
Where dreams come at last to their rest.
How the load, so heavy, came to be
these wearied hands have forgot.
That which was once a solace
seems to be just beyond the reach.
It can be hard to forget.
Quiet lights dim against the shadows,
few are able to see, want to see.
Fight! Against the coming of night.
Fight! The silence that surrounds.
Fight! Before all strength has gone.
Flesh 'gainst the unyielding stone,
What hope can there be for light
to breath life unto the night.
For claw and scrape and push and shove
unmoving, uncaring, inertia's toll.
Exhaustion's grip is an icy burden
That has become a fast friend.
Some mountains cannot be moved.
And some dreams were meant to die.
Who can know what time shall see.
Hope waxes and hope fades away
As we see the passing of the days
Is that a light beyond the height?
A crack through which I can see?
Or another room, another wall?
Who can know what time shall see.
Behind Beyond These Walls
Eyes that shimmer like stars in the night,
seeing and unseen beyond the silent verge.
The stolid walls piled to the heavens
A cairn to that which was never there
Where dreams come at last to their rest.
How the load, so heavy, came to be
these wearied hands have forgot.
That which was once a solace
seems to be just beyond the reach.
It can be hard to forget.
Quiet lights dim against the shadows,
few are able to see, want to see.
Fight! Against the coming of night.
Fight! The silence that surrounds.
Fight! Before all strength has gone.
Flesh 'gainst the unyielding stone,
What hope can there be for light
to breath life unto the night.
For claw and scrape and push and shove
unmoving, uncaring, inertia's toll.
Exhaustion's grip is an icy burden
That has become a fast friend.
Some mountains cannot be moved.
And some dreams were meant to die.
Who can know what time shall see.
Hope waxes and hope fades away
As we see the passing of the days
Is that a light beyond the height?
A crack through which I can see?
Or another room, another wall?
Who can know what time shall see.