Poems from the Soul

Gonna lay a couple of poems on you, hope you enjoy them in all their dark shine…


Part 1: A Minute in the Life of a Boy

A scrawny blond boy running
Bent over a sidewalk with
A Matchbox car between his legs
Flying like superman
Toward a forest of trees waving at him
Little, bony arms reaching into a tree
Pulling himself up, higher and higher
Stepping on branch after branch
Blue eyes marveling at the view
From the homemade tree house,
A mile high fortress defended by dwarves
Down the loose trap-door hidden way in the back,
Leaping to the thick, twisted Swinging Branch,
Dangling, stretching like a waking bat
Dropping triumphantly to a waiting steed
Galloping wildly through the trails
Clutching that final ingredient secret sorcerers long for
Running from white Stormtroppers
Finding the perfect stick for a gun
Shooting back, diving over a grassy hill
Lasers loudly blasting overhead
Crawling into a huge, cement culvert
Submerging in the submarine
Down! Down! The boy’s soft voice
Echoed in the concrete tube
A scrawny blond boy running alone,

In the mind of a grown man sitting alone


Part 2: Waking yet again

Waking yet again, he sees his dreams aren’t real
Sad routines keep the dreams down
Moving through the years passively
Like birds through the breeze,
Beautiful dreams always in him
Someday,
He cries out, and hits the wall
Slams a door and drinks some more
He rattles the bars of his life
From time to time
Knows he hasn’t the strength
To bend or break
Out
Not every cocoon becomes a butterfly,
Some just dry out and die
Some roses have their fragrance stomped out,
They all don’t blossom and grow
The glorious eagle born to weak to fly,
Forgotten in a nest high above the world
Someday,
He cries out, and hits the wall
Slams a door and drinks some more

The disappointment of dreams you can’t quite reach,
The dreary dread of daytime, reality and it all

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2 thoughts on “Poems from the Soul

  1. Wow, Erik. These are awesome. I was expecting horror poems, but these are more the darkness of real life (at least the second one).

    The first had some great imagery, and you certainly captured the essence of being a young boy. A mix of all the adventures we ever went on.

    And the second was one of those poems that will be interpreted different by each person who reads it, but in each case, it is very personal and touches on something many of us don’t want to think about.

    Well done.

    Paul D. Dail
    http://www.pauldail.com- A horror writer’s not necessarily horrific blog

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