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Frank Quintana Poem
I drive across the desert, no plans on where to go,
I drive into the sun; I wish it wasn’t so,
Sorrow in my mind, sorrow in my soul,
This is where I drive, this is where I go.
Nothing in the front of me, nothing to leave behind,
Misery in the backseat, misery in my mind,
The broken roads I drive, across the barren plain,
Lost and lonely boy, lives with all the pain.
Could there be a way, to make this trip slow down,
I want this car to stop, on the darker side of town,
The dust that never falls, murky is the breath,
As the car begins to slow, I know this to be a death.
The death of this journey, a journey to the end,
The basic things taught in life, destiny’s only friend,
The sun has set itself, darkness now unfolds,
This was a little journey, the truth can now be told.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
A simple gesture that shows the truth,
a blessing from the start,
the significance of a simple kiss,
the pain of the broken heart.
The hallowed wain of loneliness,
as one that dines alone,
the gentle caress holding a hand,
and the love that one has shown.
Blessed are the days that bind,
laughter as on cue,
the days and nights we fell in love,
moments built with you.
As the moonlight shines the night,
the life we live apart,
solemn and lonely now in life,
tearing at my heart.
I could speak a thousand words,
but only you know the few,
once upon a time in life,
I really did love you.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
A Vision of what is meant to be,
A voice so often heard.
The wasted soul that once was me,
The spoken hallowed word.
Could it be the passion inside,
Could it be the pain?
Lost the light that drives my soul,
Lost the search in vain.
Love that comes without a fault,
Love that hides within.
Pain the solace of many men,
Pain will always win.
This vision I see is what I am,
This my path of life.
They started the day I said goodbye,
They began when I lost my wife.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
The downtrodden have instilled the fear,
The loss that is never heard,
Could it be the gentle brook,
Or the violent spoken word.
I bestill my mind with dampened spirits,
An ache that never sleeps,
Could it be the rotten corpse?
Or the widow as she weeps.
A thought to tame my wild thoughts,
To brush against a breast,
To feel the hatred well within,
A torturous little jest.
A Solemn word that bring the joy,
A splinter to bring the pain,
Could be the gentle laugh,
Or the twist of Cain.
As I finish my thoughts of the day,
Some words to capture whats real,
I take the pleasure in the pain,
Knowing the world I know is real.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
The leaves of Autumn fall beneath my feet,
And the wind gently blows,
thoughts of passion filled nights of love,
My heart begins to glow.
To the east the sun ascends,
As does this mans heart,
My mind wanders through fields of you,
I think this is loves first start.
The beginning of our friendship,
A journey to the end,
The thought of me loving you,
The warm embrace of a friend.
Could this be the reason,
The reason is so bold,
But this how life should be,
From young until were old…..
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
I can see the false hope and doom,
the hissing in the breath,
Sorrowful, baleful emotionless,
every word reeks of death.
The masses that follow blinded now,
forever will they weep,
Appointing a puppet of false hope,
The rage and anger we reap.
Anger fills the glasses full,
confusion fills the mind,
My heart now torn, as a tattered flag,
doom for all mankind.
To settle now for this false hope,
my desire to amend,
To watch our world fall apart,
the loss of a life long friend.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
Dear father please forgive me,
Forgive me of my sins,
As I plead on my knees,
I know I cannot win,
I clasp my hands in prayer,
I reach up to the sky,
The emotionless void I call my heart,
A death wish for the dying.
Oh father hear my prayer,
I plead with you again,
I give my heart and soul to you,
But still I cannot win.
The feelings of abandonment,
My thoughts are all askewed,
I grasp at the last wish of a man,
Who all this time he knew……..
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
In the night I hear the sounds,
A bellow from afar.
I reach to find what is lost,
only to re-open my scars.
The sound I hear I cannot know,
Guttural is the voice.
The scar that is ripped open flows,
To another misguided choice.
I desperately seek solace within,
the dark recesses of my mind.
Only to find another scar,
My thoughts are intertwined.
Moments of freedom without the screams,
A respite for the ways.
To seek the sounds that cause my fears,
Leads me to better days.
Until I meet the shattered voice,
My scars will always show.
Finding the light within my heart,
Maybe too late to ever know.
I go down on bent knees,
To pray to heal those scars.
Until the answer comes from within,
I will go on picking at those scars.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
Take the oath to defend what is dear, I follow to the grave.
The fellowship that is bound by war, true as the flag that waves.
Freedoms that stand, on the ones that fall, an honor to the brave.
To the ones that serve, and sacrifice cost, true as the flag that waves.
Aboard a ship, foxhole or camp, brothers until the end.
The oath we take to defend our flag, the brotherhood, honor and friends.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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Frank Quintana Poem
Looking into the eyes of fate,
My heart, it seems to burn,
Could it be the laws we make,
Or lessons that we learn.
Oh sorrowful father take my life,
To depth’s to mine unkown,
Lost and lonely bitter strife,
life’s path’s that we are shown.
To the rape of my shattered mind,
The scarring beneath the life,
I take the hand of misery kind,
bitterness sharp as a knife.
Could it be the empathy,
I store like bitter pills,
Could it be the sympathy,
Or the empathy that heals.
Copyright © Frank Quintana | Year Posted 2012
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