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Scot Garner Poem
LOVE FROM A FAR
She lays in wonder, she lays in wait. Her mind now ponders over each little thing. She doubts herself, both old things and new. She's never known love, for her love’s only been used, to put her down, to break her sweet heart. She was a beautiful puzzle this world's torn apart. She now see’s not her worth, her beauty, her soul. Shed been always held down, or kept under control. Not by mans hands, and not under might, but from what she believed, that he had inside. The biggest thing her eyes could not see, was the one who seen her, and loved each broken piece. He loved her through winter, spring, summer and fall. He counted each tear, and felt every one crawl… down her beautiful face, as each one would fall. Though he knows his love is true, it’s the love of this man that she never knew, began or existed for the words stayed upon lips, rolled not off his tongue as he kept them within. He’ll always love her, eternal as the stars… though his love will remain always from afar.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2018
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Scot Garner Poem
Abandoned are thine eyes, as they see not faces or light. Search now do they not, for there is no longer beauty in sight. The shapes of the world blur together, left now are no distinguishing lines. Only hues of greys lay before him, contrasting like shadows cast forth in to night. Tastes are fowl now and colors have faded… like the light from this travelers eyes. Wearily forced to trudge about this desolation, he slowly fades with each stride. Each breath a grain of sand, tumbling through the hour glass of that which is life. Faces lack detail as one blurs another, for each one, is always the same. A crafted grin, with familiar hints of a warm and welcomed embrace, hiding only intent to lay wrath upon him, he shutters with each whim. Tears form behind his hollowing eyes, blurring vision, of what lay before him. His face, lined with shame and regret blood tears and sweat, onlookers laugh as all now they mock him. Every gift of breath revealed as punishment though committed of no crime. He finds peace as his time here is drawn. A smile cast across his lips as does he know he cannot go on. His shadow fades into dust on the horizon. The light he once cast forth now gone, as the moon gives chase to the sun. This travelers journey now over, as surely as night is followed by dawn.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2018
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Scot Garner Poem
If some of your demons would dance with a few of my devils... maybe I could have peace, even if for just a little while. For what is a moment if a moment is not gone in just that? The essence of time is sweet, succulent... now a mere memory, it's taste now bland, the colors it once was, and oh how it was. Magnanimous, breathtaking, like being born and born a new. Now dull, lifeless a decay to mock everything it was, was not, could be and never will be again. An echo, however bent and distorted it may have been. Perhaps the moment was bent and the persistence of time merely distorted around it. The words, twist upon my lips... like blank puzzle pieces in my eye, the eye cannot be silenced for sight never had been heard. For if sight had been heard for what then was it? Perhaps a dream, for what are dreams, memories of life not yet lived, moments not yet born? Desires of the heart unknown? For the heart is foolish a daydreamer, easily pacified and convinced it settling’s are complacent... Dream then, dream the dreams thine heart dare dream, lost within itself. The center of everything shrouded in the apex of nothingness highlighted in the subtle hue of creation.. Old is new alike yet nothing next of kin. I, the man I was, for then if i was who then was he, for what lay to rest, inside the stranger of my former self... now ablaze, destructive, raging pain as pleasure upon self, for must he truly suffer, to hold accountability for things that could never be counted, yet accounted for one by precious one. Lay must he down to rest, his fragile broken hands. For if you should dare to dance with these devils, take them by lead, or chance, round this void in time, for there never were a dance.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2018
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Scot Garner Poem
Darkness take form, this room that I’m in. The shadows they laugh, the room now spins. Flickers the flame the candles warm glow. What madness is this? What things lay in stow? Whispers that call from depths of the night, is my mind playing tricks? Are my fears taking flight? I shutter from a touch, a touch never there, they pull at my covers, tug at my hair. The line fades from fantasy and reality this eve. What then oh what, shall become then of me? Hasten the flicker, the fire, the flame. Mocking me still, am I going insane? Wake me, oh wake me , take me from this strange place… the candle falls to the floor, the flames oh how they rage. Intense the heat, the shadows now fled. But there were never a candle, a shadow nor bed. For what then, oh what, if these things never been. For its only my mind I’m locked inside then? Flee me, oh flee me these things here this night. My fears now over, as comes mornings light. Until the sun fades and returns me this blight...
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2018
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Scot Garner Poem
A dreamer who dreams, dreams now and then, belongs not to this world nor place that hes in. A dreamer who dreamed a dream of his dreams. Nothing is real, as is or as seems. The pen is his head, his tongue and his hand though dreams dont come true, for his dreams are damned.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2018
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Scot Garner Poem
Warm salt winds gently whisper on my skin, knowing not where I'll be, only to forget where I've been. The sea sings a song of time once lost, for yesterday comes with a hard, heavy cost. Tedious things are now so dark and so grim, for it is the oceans of time that claims the hearts of all men. All that will be, all that has been, the things that were not, never shall be again. I let the waves come and take me from the edge of this shore, to the darkness below where I'll stay evermore. Not do I struggle, nor do I fight, I'll not see again or be kissed by the light. In leagues below the surface, under the swells, it looks not like heaven, resembles not hell. It grips with such power, yet still a gentle embrace. I've not been here before, yet I know this strange place. Pulling me deeper I'm surrounded by night, again not to struggle, again not to fight. Having no place inside the cruel world above, the true cost now paid... for falling in love. Walk down to the sands and upon the beach, trudge down where land meets up with the sea, think there of nothing, think there of me, think there of when you were all I could see.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2018
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Scot Garner Poem
Her eyes are of night sky, darkened yet soft consuming my heart, entrapping my mind. Lips like the pedals of a delicate rose, she is as an ocean of wonder whose depths I’d give my very breath to know. Her hair is silken, soft like the moons gentle haze, flows like a river round her angelic face. Gently fragrant of warm summer breeze, reminiscent of love only twice as sweet. Hey skin golden honey her body gently kissed by the sun, she is s powerful river through my heart does she run. Throughout all the wonders these eyes ever might see, they wouldve never seen beauty as is she to me. She is the truest of words inside every song, her voice like the birds serenading the dawn. Amazed and in awe my love that I am of thee. You are the reason my eyes were to see. The very purpose my hands were made to hold, a priceless treasure, who burns deep to my soul. In all of the heavens, the sky and of earth I thank God and the angels for letting mothers give birth. For if not then for them, would there not be you, and without you my love I simply could not do. You are the strength inside me this man without who I could not walk nor stand. For a wondrous woman does make a truly good man.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2019
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Scot Garner Poem
The Fool
He calls out in anguish, he winces in pain, he whimpers so softly calling out to her in vain.
He’s tattered, so broken, abandoned, abused, hollowed, forgotten, forsaken, tormented, confused.
A gift did he give to her, such a sacred , fragile part. Though a play thing she makes now out of his heart.
He wriggles in agony, in darkness, its crafting her grin. She sits absently silent , as he slowly dies from within. A simple word from her lips, it could all be undone, though of all the words she could utter, her choice is not one… should ever roll off her nor shall it cross from her tongue… mercy fir him, oh there shall not be none . He takes every lashing from her attentive less ways, every hit, every bash from her cold, hollow gaze. She knows she sold him every dream that she now takes away. Her eyes cold , see only fault though that none of her own. Her crown so careful she crafts , sitting so proud on her throne.
She laughs and she mocks him, as he lays there slowly dying alone. She knows he loved, her so deep and so true… a glimpse of remorse he'd forgive all she’d done and ever do. He’s just a foolish dreamer , be it a many or a few…. Though the sad truth is so much worse… This fool, one day could be you…
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2019
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Scot Garner Poem
Full moon's gaze, does it gently look upon me. Etwined by moons gentle beams, as they fall softly upon cheek.
Tangled in your soft gaze as does the rest of the world lay rest. Figures and shadows cast forth into various
hue's of grey. Deeper still... shadow cast forth on shadow, nothing to contast one from none. like a
figureless void into nothingness... so bold to speak of nohtingness, now with facetious silence. The measurement
of time... impossile, equal to the distance of gasp to whisper. Sudden breath drawn quick in overanticipation,
as does breath now shutter. the moment perfectly attuned lay height to seneses at such crucial apex. To fall
from such a far place, impossible to imagine. Like the edges of a dream, where creation is weaved into delicate
fibers of possibility and rendered through a mind. Viewed as closed eyes of the world masterfully craft the
dreamscape... infifinate possibilities of wonder and awe. such a place where the very boundaries of what is and
could be. Though perhaps never again, maybe the dream itself was just a dream. Time itself... perhaps it was merely
a thought, or invisionment, as a way to notate effort, mind and heart reaching for what it desired...for the darkness
herin entwined of this night, cast down to us now, from the height of thy heights. Give breath to creation
and vision to eyes... so that all may now weave, eternal strands of the night
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2019
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Scot Garner Poem
Let me then tell you of dreams. I dream I could only hope I could dream. As the thought of it takes my very breath away. Secrets of the heart stored ever so secret , deep inside my most secret place, so the slightest thought of her stored there, the hands of time could never fade. Her name be of that, which is beauty, beyond any beauty be ever compared. For beauty could only dream to become her and could never be one of her hairs. That lay trace and outlines her face the very reason eyes were gifted to see, but confounded by what is before them, like sands are in awe of the sea. An ocean of wonder, is that she. Vast and full of splendors untold, under the moon that I aim for, would be just that her hand I could hold. The painters brush dare never paint her, the artist hands would just lay in wait. Miracles could never be painted, poets only dare dream to write of her name. The quill thirst for the ink lay before it , as for her my soul always the same. The way the Sun wishes to catch the moon and I wish impossible things.
Copyright © Scot Garner | Year Posted 2021
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