Picture Perfect

And so i've been writing poetry again. I know, I know; a vice I have not yet trained myself to overcome.

Here's the latest, 5 poems to be exact. The first was written quite a while ago, the rest were written between 1:00am (very late saturday/very early sunday) and this moment in time (15:18 BST)


Beautiful World

Oh,
we live in such a beautiful world,
with many wars and all of the strife,
which epitomizes this life.

Oh,
we live in such a happy world,
with crime and abuse rising,
to levels unseen.

Oh,
we live in such a glorious world,
with wise lies deceiving,
and false hands receiving.

Oh,
we live in such a charming world,
where technology has exceeded,
our humanity.

Such a glorious place,
has anyone seen,
the place which shines,
with wars and want,
hunger and hurt,
fighting and fear.

Oh, we live in such a beautiful world.
-----------------

Sight of the Night

on a canvas dark the painter begins,
to paint the most glorious of things.

A speckle of light,
but not too bright,
emits a shudder of pure delight.

the painter began on a darkened sea,
but has created light to shine forth free.

The painter adds
ingredients three,
to add to the sight which we see.

a pinch of distance - it's a measured art,
one which pulls the strings of one's heart.

the tone of the paint,
a glimmering thing,
creates but all of the shimmering.

And now a pearl is placed on the sea,
to be hanging there so very free.

a pearl,
as white as could be,
it is a real glory to see.

And next, the most important thing of all,
without which this beauty means nought at all.

the finest of magic,
a glorious thing,
is added as a thousand birds sing.

(for to make this magic very strong,
it is the painter who adds the finest song.)

But what's the ingredient,
the magical three,
shall it remain but a mystery?

There is no need for the mystery,
but what can the final ingredient be?

The painter smiles and his face fills with glee,
for the final ingredient is added, you see:
A moment of romance, between you and me.

----

Night Sky

I look towards the starry sky,
letting out a quiet sigh,
'Tis the moon that i spy.

no rope holds it to it's place,
there it hangs about it's space,
hanging quietly with it's grace.

The sea of stars!
The shining light!
To look on Mars,
to see the sight,
of a thousand candles burning bright.

The canvas pitch black be,
of that everlasting sea,
spots shimmering so free.

this is the view,
that's what I see,
as i look towards the starry sea.
------------

Hope

Look at the wars around in this life,
look at the hunger and all of the strife,
poverty and misery, it is this which is rife.

Some blame humanity who can be evil as sin,
others blame Fate against who none can win,
but I blame he who controls it all.

Oh, God on high who knows everything,
with millions of angels who dont move a wing,
whom, we are told, your praises sing.

what do they sing when they see our earth,
how can they sing their praises of mirth,
for evil has this place been since it's birth.

God in his glory sits on his throne,
looking about to see what he does own,
the millennial countings are about to take place.

The angels on high look to creation,
and see what is under his domination,
hardly the products of our salvation:

a little part of abominations,
a thousands measures of disgrace,
and a million more of losing face.

and yet one little angel sitting on high,
who knows what will happen nigh,
heaves a glorious sigh.

For this little angel knows what will be,
it opens it's eyes and turns to see,
our planet which was created by He.

Looking past the misery,
looking past the pain,
looking to see what humanity may gain.

amidst the hunger and amidst the strife,
amidst the misery of this life,
it looks to see a special thing.

in the layers of dirt and thrown to the side,
amidst the hurt and trying to hide,
a tiny pearl of hope he gathers with pride.

hope for better things to come,
the hope of peace, the hope of life,
the hope of an end to all the strife.

Bring it to the creator who will smile,
who smiles a smile full of glee who says,
"Yes, bring it near, it's this, my beloved, which is dear."
-----------------

Repentance

An angel was punished one day, you see,
and came to the earth sad as could be.

He couldn't return to his place in the sky,
and so would let out a saddened sigh.

He travelled the earth to look and to see,
He wandered around for a place to be.

He could only return to his place in the sky,
If he found something worth more than his sigh.

The earth he would travel until he could see,
something of worth so in the sky he could be.

gold is of no use to those who dwell in the sky,
"but what's of more value than that?" he would sigh.

then one day he thought he could see,
something of value - but what could it be?

whilst flying about just under the sky,
he heard a girl heave a heavy sigh.

this was of value any can see,
a sigh of repentance: worth more than much could ever be.

And so he returned to his place in the sky,
holding aloft a little girl's sigh.

and now you know and now you can see,
how valuable repentance can actually be.
-------------

And that's it for now, dears!
My personal favourites are Night Sky and Sight of the Night (yes, very original names, but hey!)

The one entitled "Hope" does not necessarily construe my own opinions and/or feelings, though at times, I do feel that God has "millions of angels who dont move a wing" and the "a thousands measures of disgrace, and a million more of losing face" parts. Ah, well.

Then we have repentance. A cute little poem written for the deeply religious, the overly romantic, or the slightly naive. And where do you fit in? ;-)
------
I sent the poem "Night Sky" to a fellow poet who lives here and she came up with this rendering of it, which, as I see it, certainly shows me up!

I look toward a starry sky,
escaping my lips, a silent sigh.
Filled with awe and wonder, I take it in;
not the least bit sure where to begin.

'Tis the moon that catches my watchful eye,
no explanation can I provide.
No rope or belt fastens it there,
it just sits silently with care.

A sea of stars in the graceful night;
a thousand candles buring bright.
Although the canvas, black may be,
there shines pure light for all to see.

This is my view and what I see,
as I gaze at all that lies before me.
Its sheer beauty exists, untainted;
with envy, I watch the scene almost hated.

All of a sudden, we are one,
as I marvel at the wonders that God has done.
What a loving God he must be,
to release this moment unto me!

This time in nature I must savour,
as I find myself in His favour.
Again, what an amazing sight,
this cold and lonely, starry night.
--------
Compare that to my one, and frankly dear children, mine looks utter pants!

Bye, and enjoy!