Archive for the My Older Work – Poetry of Life Category

Eternity

Posted in My Older Work - Poetry of Life on April 7, 2009 by Blood Red

(Poem I wrote my Senior year of High School – Class of 1995)

Eternity is a timeless vat

with no beginning and no end.

Be blessed or be damned,

it is the Realm of Immortality.


We all behold It on Mortal’s End,

for when we die time disappears,

and Judgment Day comes before

a Breathe of Eternal Dust can be breathed.


Your deeds which He knows

will determine the Star

~or the Abyss~

to which you will remain.

I am soon to reach Immortality~

in Stagnant Grace.

I love but am not loved~

therefore, my time has come.

I shall arrive to my Perpetual Post

on a most Heinous Path.

I walk hand-in-hand with Ages Past

to the Gate in which I shall persevere.

Life and Love come too late for me,
but my Loyal Friends I hope will feel
that my Heart is still with Them
for Their Souls to steal.

Blood of the Azaleas

Posted in My Older Work - Poetry of Life on April 7, 2009 by Blood Red

‘Tis centuries past when the Earth first saw
the Blood of the Azaleas.
The tip of the steel scabbard tried to make them fall,
but their trunks were thick and roots made firm.

O’r the years the plants have bled,
staining their bright petals crimson red.
Through flames and floods when all was done and said,
they survived and their branches and roots reached down.

Wave after wave, slice after slice, pruning after pruning,
bleeding after bleeding they still stood strong,
keeping their purple, red, pink and white petals,
never letting the crimson stains linger too long.

Now with our many bushes all across the state,
after all these years, we stand once again
in a Land of Confusion and Hate.
But our roots run deep and our trunks are strong.

Should we Azaleas be made to bleed again
we will be ready to stand firm,
and the seed that was planted long ago
will not perish no matter the fight or flame.

This Flawed Creature

Posted in My Older Work - Poetry of Life on April 7, 2009 by Blood Red

(Nov 2008)

I stand before you a flawed creature.
I am not solid like rock,
but rather flow with the waves of the ocean.

I ride on the tide and ebb and flow of life
and struggle to keep my head afloat.
I know that I am faulted and imperfect.

But I do have something to offer, I think.
I have passion and love to give freely.
I have a desire for life and emotion like no other.

I am an artist, writer and poet.
I try to make this world a better place,
a place for strength and love and embrace.

I know I don’t always go about it right;
one of my many, many flaws;
and I only manage to push some away.

But for those that stay,
for those that love me anyway,
there is so much love and support I give.

I just wish I could accomplish my goals better,
I wish I wouldn’t push people away.
I’ve lost many because I guess I’m so willful.

Again, that is just one of my many defects.
I know I have many more.
I wish I could change for those that I’ve lost.

My Imperfect Love

Posted in My Older Work - Poetry of Life on April 7, 2009 by Blood Red

(Nov 2008)

I have a heart full of love to give.
I give that love freely,
maybe even foolishly.

I know that my love is great,
but I also know that, like me,
my love is imperfect.

I know this because of those I’ve lost,
and of those that have stayed
and suffered no matter how hard I try.

Nothing I do is good enough
for anyone around me.
I try in vain to make them
happy and content in our lives.

I don’t know why I am the way I am.
I don’t know why I can’t be better.
I don’t know why my love can’t be perfect.

I had always hoped and even thought I found
someone that my love was perfect for,
but it is obvious that my love just isn’t good enough.

Just like me, my love is imperfect;
my love is not good enough.
My love is flawed and faulted, as am I.

I wish I could change but I fear
that I am destined to live in the dark and ash.
I fear that those around me do so as well,
only because I take them there.

I hate that those I love the most
suffer because of me.
I wish that I could just disappear,
if it would mean they would be happy.

Mirrored Self

Posted in My Older Work - Poetry of Life on April 7, 2009 by Blood Red


we all have to look hard into ourselves and see the ugly within

we all have to look hard into ourselves and see the ugly within

(October 2008)
I walk in the dark along a lonely forest path. I can feel the earth between my toes and the cold, damp air clinging to my flesh. The duty before me is one I do not enjoy. The moon is high and full providing light and casting a silver glow on the bare trees. The wood is full of Death and Life and they accompany me to task. All must do this at least once either in life or death, makes no difference when. Most cannot do it- some perish when they do. I arrive at my destination full of dread and my eyes fall upon the Pool of Essence. The water was still as mirrored glass and the surrounding area was quiet. No fish live here and no birds fly over... No living thing dared near this water hole for the fate of so many who venture here has been of terror and dread and insanity. I kneel at the water's edge, shaking with fear. I take in one more deep breathe of the frigid air, close my eyes and say a prayer for strength. I open my eyes, release that breathe and look down. The water is smooth and silvery, no hint of peril. Then suddenly a ripple forms, and grows larger as more ripples appear and move and dance. I see my physical reflection in the breaks... then more is revealed, so much more... ***************************************** Hours have passed and I emerge from the forest. I look around, eyes weary and swollen from tears. There is no one around, no one to walk by my side. The Pool of Essence does not lie about one's self. I let sink in what was revealed to me, though, I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. All I know is that I am not what I'd hoped. Is it too late to change - I don't know. But I must try...