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Helen Ochert Poem
Love is but a mist that veils the moon,
A beautiful instrument played out of tune.
Love is but a lion that after the hunt devours it’s pray,
And leaves the bare carcass to rot away.
Love is a gentle ghost trapped in a material world of nothingness,
Which is felt, but in this world rarely seen.
A falsehood found on every lovers lips, that lies and poisons the heart,
For sorrow never sleeps, the broken heart is left dead to weep.
Gentle hands that once did hold in love are now stained in blood.
Voices that laughed and gently wooed, now speak cruelly out of tune.
Bodies and souls that were wrought together are now parted, foe for ever.
Sweat melodies and warm gentle breeze, smells of jasmine,
rose and herb no longer fragrant the lovers world.
Stagnant air of love lost has but one thick pungent smell of complete despair.
Soft, frail words from another voice are spoken, like a poets spell the despondent
heart awoken, as it gently heals love is given but another chance to leave its cold
and bloodied mess.
In the shadows of the dark love lurks with quivering bow to hide the arrow of such
woe, for every arrow that hits its mark leaves a disfigured heart when succumbed
to a mediocre love. Courageously fight and battle for true love for ego has no
winner.
Let the Archers arm be true and find but one heart, one love, for me and you.
Copyright © Helen Ochert | Year Posted 2007
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Details |
Helen Ochert Poem
Thoughts
It is now the twenty first century
And my fellow man the time has come.
To pick up the load of our fathers sins and take responsibility for what we have
done.
The Earth is crying, the death shadow is on the wall, time is but a thread upon
the floor.
Take upon your shoulders the burden of our fathers mistakes and make the
changes we must make.
Hide not from the shadow of responsibility, but go forth from the darken pit of
hypocrisy.
The cradle is rocking in the wind, the earth is burning furiously with in.
Life is not only for the living but for those of us yet to come.
Let us work under one flag, one sun, one sky, share the responsibility of what
needs to be done.
Let not the cradle of the unborn rock in vain, the wind has changed and it’s
blowing your way.
Take up your picks and hammers your computers and your books, let their be a
revelation upon the land, lets show the politicians we don’t need them to think for
us, we can make a stand.
We are sick of their smoke and mirrors, we can see their every trick, we see them
hiding in the hollow, under every rock we kick.
The solution lies with in us, the air I breathe, you breathe, the sky I see, you see,
the planet I live on, you live on, doesn’t that makes us neighbours, nay brothers,
in the same stony sleep.
Lets marvel at the world, not destroy it, make no mistake, the sun that shines on
your houses shines on mine, it’s time to take up the course and fix the wrongs of
the past into rights.
Let not another golden slumber slip by with out a shift of thought.
Helen Marie Ochert
Copyright © Helen Ochert | Year Posted 2007
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