Sections Poems - Poems about Sections

my day's done early about eleven a.m. i'm showered and changed off to tim hortons coffee and donut drive thru playing cassette tapes oldies and goodies get back home with my dark roast sit at computer and enter a world a strange that is fake and true which is which and faith that it means something may not be here but is there underlying space higher dimensions the cross sections of...

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From there he drove madly to the hospital where He was coughing up blood but stayed far from care His only desire was to see his one love And pray that help would arrive from above She was bandaged and bloodied all over in the bed As he planted one kiss atop her pretty head He said he was sorry for...

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She left him there ruined, to drink and to brood For three years thereafter he held the same mood Trapped was the artist in a cubicle office space Torture for his feverish mind and heart now laid to waste Alcohol was life though he would never call it so But the bonds were too strong he still could not let...

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Yet never did he waver from the path he had chose Lyla was his sun, his moon, and his desert rose Not even the temptations he met throughout those years Those sweet little whispers did fall on deaf ears Not a friend from class who had too much to drink Not the pretty sorority girl who told him not to...

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"If the drinks rob her balance from her beautiful feet there my arms will be outstretched for her to meet And each season we spend apart from the other I will think of her always and never another No matter how I long to see her once more And talk to her for hours on the second floor Each moment with...

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But the lover he knew this would not be enough In such games as romance the going will get rough And his youth had not abandoned him yet Such failures monumental he would not so soon forget And all had been less than this goddess on earth No other had touched his heart so since birth So amidst the glorious dreams...

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But on this night he saw so clearly before His eyes would not leave the sight at the door Graceful and gorgeous the girl who appeared As a storm brewed outside and the heavens had teared And so Lyla Dawson made acquaintance of the boy So stunned by her beauty he could not employ The use of his speech, but had...

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To this scene we have gathered on September’s eve Under darkening sky, where a storm may conceive Not a sight better is that face I’ve hardly known So frail and aged in years past he had grown A tragedy that one with his talents immense Must be interred so young, still with look of innocence Too long had my brother decayed...

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