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the word whisperer

Friday, April 29, 2005

The Stallion

A free spirit running the plains,
His hoofs beating on golden ground,
And leaving a trail of dust,
While racing to meet the unfound;
Searching for water to splash in,
Searching for towering canyons,
Thrilling at neighing of echoes –
His truest, closest companions.

Determined – his ears are pinned back,
His mane floats along in pure play,
His nostrils flaring in passion,
His massive legs pounding away.
The stallion, the sign of the free,
The brother of winds, waters, skies,
Symbol of Nature’s deep beauty,
A spirit, once loved, never dies.

Wronged Genesis

Walking down the boulevard,
Passing life of centuries,
The Earth seems like a card,
Of printed memories,
Like a broken record
That only God can fix.

Reading history we learn,
We see mistakes and changes,
Ideas bring concern
In many diff’rent ranges,
But when existence strikes,
“My” life comes before “yours.”

Like weather, man’ll falter,
From blue to cloudy skies,
But weather doesn’t alter
From man’s implied disguise –
Deductive reasoning
On human state of health.

Yet, since God created us,
You can see we’ve gone askew,
So let us stop the fuss
And start our lives anew,
Shake hands in proud defense
Of you, wronged genesis.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Waterfall

Rocks of slate – a rugged road,
White streams – rays of broken hopes
Washed away in a cascade
Past wooded trails and green ferns,
Watchful eyes of glist’ning banks–
Illusions of the smoothness
Forever sought through life;
The water, clear and sweet,
At the changes of its course,
Won’t turn bitter while it lives,
While nymphs – pure souls – will hover
Every night above the mist,
Blowing kisses to the streams,
And laughing in the moonlight.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Railroad of Fate

A short poem that I composed today while looking at one of my railroad photos. Kind of wanted to play around with the rhyming pattern, away from the usual ababcdcd or aabbccdd patterns. Anyways, here's what came out.


The path of gravel stretches far ahead,
The wooden ties, some rotten, some like new,
Peek out from underneath the sooty ground,
Massive iron bolts firmly bind the rails,
An endless gleam of rust upon Earth’s bed,
A road, a search for hope to brave and few,
To find escape or in distress be drowned,
A voyage on dry land and without sails.