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Poems by Angelswing


Midnight sunshine .

I'll remember you at midnight,
When the moon is full,
I'll remember you at midnight,
When the sandman rules,
I'll remember you at midnight,
Underneath the stars,
I'll remember you at midnight,
Whether near or far,
Whatever time of day it is,
I'll remember you,
You'll always be there by my side,
My one and only you .

 



Demons awake in Hell .

The perfect picture,
Hanging on the wall,
A face so perfect,
>From there it calls,
But out of reach,
The dreaming lies,
Deep down inside something cries,
Stirred up,
Upset,
The demon crawls,
Awakened in it's bloody hall .
Death befalls,
Within his wrath,
His evil choking,
Smiting laugh .

Written by Tom Baker .



Love Bug .

Ladybirds with wings encased,
A solid outer shell,
Yet deep inside,
Emotions strong often stay and swell,

A ladybird,
A caring beast,
With feelings clear and true,
If only it could open up,
It would not be so blue .

 



The crime of love .

The truth of love is that it's crime,
Illegal,
Bad,
Taboo,
People who commit this sin are evil,
Yes it's true .
Confession can appease the soul,
But the lies come shining through,
Your heart is locked eternally,
In a small cell made for two .
You can't break free,
You can't escape,
No matter how you try,
The sentence is so long and hard,
Make that life times five .
If you try to get away,
It will all rush back to you,
You can not lose the thin blue lines,
That travel two by two .
The lines just close around your neck,
Back to the lonely cell,
Your left alone with just your thoughts,
Your life's a living hell .
Some loves are only minor,
A stupid crush or fling,
In court these crimes,
Will bear small charge,
A lonely monthly thing,
But when the love is purist,
Good,
And right,
And true,
The charge is hard upon your head,
There's no where to run to .
What's this I hear you asking,
Who are you know ?
The answer is quite simple,
It's plain,
And I will tell,
My punishment is hard and long,
With my whole life to serve,
Cannot you,
Find the agony,
I have because of love ?

 



The treadmill of life .

It doesn't matter where I go,
Or what I do or say,
I am always running on the spot,
Not moving on a day .
For every step I take,
The treadmill turns once more,
I never seem to strike it rich,
Life is such a chore .
It ain't suppose to be this way,
Just getting nowhere fast,
It doesn't matter what I try,
I always come in last .
I'm always worst but never first,
It doesn't balance out,
Now where's my wins,
I've made few sins,
I need to bale out.

 



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Biographical sketch: My name is Tom I live in England and have always had a sideways look on life . Poetry has become my life as it lets me express myself and be seen as an egual with others that are like me .

Angelswing recommends:

The Collected Poems of Wilfred Owen by Wilfred Owen ( edited by C.Day Lewis )
Reason: I love this book and author because it shows life in it's most brutal and true form . And he is not afraid to tell it like it is .

Recommendations for writers:

I think that the best way to write poems is to blank your mind of thought and let what is in your heart flow on to the paper just as it comes out, you can fidle around with it later .


 


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