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Three Poems

  • 25-02-2010 11:20pm
    #1
    DarkBlue_18
    Registered Users, Registered Users 2 Posts: 26 ✭


    Hi...I'm Liam 18 and studying Arts in NUIM. I'm new to this Boards thing and have been writing for a few years now and have been a reader of the Creative Writing section of Boards for a good while now...So here is 3 of mine anyways....All comments are welcome. Negative/Positive/Constructive etc.

    Love of a Playwright

    Along comes the Spring
    Buds, birth and beauty of no age
    February to April; three months
    Its short spanned run upon
    Nature’s stage
    Act one. Scenes 1,2 and 3
    Opening Snowdrops or Tulips it could be
    A season so elegant
    Post winter it’s dated
    Cold dark days we must fight
    To reach up; become elevated.
    Spring it is
    So hard to follow
    But yet summer shines through
    And home comes the swallow
    Swift and sharp
    Weather compliments his performance
    For May, June and July
    Illustrated in summer’s sky
    An act of joyous renegade
    The finale was an encore, a sweet Parade.

    Lighthouse Blues

    Slowly crashing upon the rocks
    (Both) Battered and bruised.
    Fast approaching midnight
    Not yet ready to move.
    Drained and Exhausted
    Your mind not at ease.
    You long for your Lover
    Not a want a mere need.
    Your womanly posture
    Neither frail nor thin
    Lies naked; fully clothed
    Exposed by winters wind.

    Waves crash; Hope is lost
    Smashed and shattered.
    While waiting in woe
    A vision befriends you-
    An image once forgot.
    Before. Breaking barriers
    Now a distant thought
    Thoughts evolve into realities
    And now,
    Another woman roams that same beach
    Love is love after all
    There are no distinctions to reach.


    A Fonn Bán

    “The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been” - Madeleine L'Engle

    Changing times have led me to believe
    Growing older ‘s not exactly what it seems,
    That element of fear -
    Or desire to remain
    Younger than old,
    Age played like a game.

    Ideas emerge.
    Melancholic minds appear.
    The young dream of maturity
    Its wisdom they hold dear.
    As the elderly desire in contrast
    To wash away their years
    Then they do realise,
    “Sure Tír na nÓg could never last”

    A cycle of unhappiness-
    In which you must deal
    Inner ambitions of becoming an Elder?
    Or regrets of not living that you feel?
    An obsession with age
    Will constantly linger
    Maybe an annoyance, disease or stage.
    But if you care to live,
    And you have that desire
    Live like you’re Young and never tire.


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