Here you will find poetry by some of my friends And other well know poets.  I hope you enjoy everything here.. and please remember not to steal other people's work.. Night No traffic's noise, no bird's song, no mosquito's bite, Just the peaceful night. No angry crowds, no teacher's scream, no children looking for a fight, Just the calming night. It's the time you throw your arms out wide and bid come what might. All that answers is the night. No police sirens, no alarm bells, no one telling you what is wrong and what is right, Just the quiet night. No crying babes, no barking dogs, no complaints about dirty sights, Just the tranquil night. It's the time that problems seem to disappear with the fleeting light. It is the blessed night. Goodnight Goodnight fair world.  Goodnight. Goodnight to all the babes secure in mothers’ arms Tucked safely away and protected from all harm. Goodnight to the children too excited to lay From all the experiences of the busy day. Goodnight to the teens who carry it all When in reality, their worries are small. Goodnight to the newly married who's worries are true, But because of their love, they haven't a clue. Goodnight to the middle aged who are still young at heart Who with their youth are unwilling to part. Goodnight to those who are over the hill. Much life lies behind, but much life lies ahead still. Goodnight to the seniors who's hair is now white Who's long life has shown them both wrong and right. Goodnight to myself who isn't as wise. I go now to bed to rest my tired eyes.  Fleeting Love I have lost at love for I've never loved at all. Trying and failing more times than I care Leaves me feeling so insignificant and small. Love is always fleeting, but still I dare to try again. I cannot resist the Siren's call. I have tried and fled while staring in love's face, Pulling myself from its embrace. I have tried and stepped away from her care When I realized that love was never there. I have tried and was shoved aside without any sign Moments before I thought love would be mine. Now I stand and turn to face love once again Not knowing what she has to give. I will not give up until my heart is slain And I lay lifeless in my grave.  I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Hallow’s Eve Knocking on doors, begging for treats, Disguised in costumes to keep spirits at bay, Children stuff their mouths with sweets As they run around and play Before turning again for more to eat. Bobbing for apples, rides on the hay, Feeling live organs that's only just meat, And caramel apples are all ways to say, “Isn't this eve ever so neat?” This night is the death of the day. Spooks and freaks, ghosts and ghouls, The walking dead, and all things cursed, Smoking brew with stench so foul Around of which the witches verse, Flickering images of possessed dolls, Brutal killings, and eyeballs burst, And howling wolf and screeching owl Who's songs by fear coerce All gather before the day so hallowed. Night of evil, do your worst.   These poems were written by a dear friend, Ballad FootPrints One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene , he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. On belonged to him, the other to the LORD. When the last scene of this life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand.. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of his life. This really bothered him and he questioned the LORD about it. "LORD, you said that once i decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints, I don't understand why  when I needed you most you would leave me" The LORD replied "My precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During those times of trail and suffering , when you see only one set of footprints. It was then that I carried you. Unknown Author THE POET'S TASK & PRAYER By: William  Blake,  Trembling I sit day and night, My friends are astonished at me, Yet they forgive my wanderings,  To open the eternal worlds, To open the immortal eyes, Of man inward into the worlds of thought, Into eternity, Ever expanding in the bosom of God, The human imagination, O savior pour upon my thy spirit of meekness & love! Annihilate the self hood in me: Be thou all my life! Guide thou my hand, Which trembles exceedingly upon the rock of ages, While I write,......   The Poet's Motto By: W. Blake I must Create a System or be enslav'd by another Man's. I will not Reason & Compare: My business is to Create.     The Tyger By: W. Blake Tyger! Tyger! burining bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart begans to beat, What dread hands? & what dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp When the stars threw down their sprears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmery?   The Haunted Chamber By: Heny W. Longfellow Each heart has its haunted chamber, Where the silent moonlight falls! On the floor are mysterious footsteps, There are whispers along the walls! And mine at times is haunted By phantoms of the past, As motionless as shadows By the silent moonlight cast. A form sits by the window. Thats not seen by day, For as soon as the dawn approaches It vanishes away. It sits there in the moonlight, Itself as pale and still, And points with its airy finger Across the window-sill. Without, before the window, There stands a gloomy pine, Whose boughs waves upwards and downward As wave these thoughts of mine. And underneath its branches Is the grave of a little child, Who died upon lie's threshold, And never wept nor smiled. What are ye, O pallid phantoms! That haunt my troubled brain? That vanish when day approaches, And at night returns again? What are ye, O paillid phantoms! But the statues without breath, That stand on the bridge overarching The silent river of death?       Back