Poetry from days past

Dabbling in poetry from days past. Sometimes I wrote because it's the only way to work through something, sometimes because it was assigned for class. Below is a combination of both.

This is a tribute to Anonymous from years past.

Wait for the Sunrise

You took my hand when I was young,
and with my face toward the sky, laughing,
you told me to close my eyes and follow.
Or maybe I really was blind.
I don't remember now.

My hand suddenly grew cold
as the warmth of yours disappeared.
I opened my eyes
to see where you'd brought us,
only to find that you weren't there.

Startled, I searched for you,
then returned to the place you'd left.
It led me to a cliff overlooking the sea,
and I thought how you would have loved the view,
how you'd even talked of bringing me to this place.

I watched the sun set behind the sea,
lay back and smiled at the stars
because I knew the sun would rise
on the other side in just a little while.
And I'm still enjoying the view.


Sarah's Song

In any crowded room
she's the one against the wall.
Quiet; to some, odd,
but passion drives her just the same.

Music beats
between her lungs
as a pendulum swings
on the grandfather clock.

Red lips glisten
behind the microphone,
Guitar fits that old position
in her knowing hands.

Lyrics escape from her mouth,
as words hang in the once-empty air.
Her damp eyes birth tears,
writing an unexpected end to her song.

Her breath catches in her throat,
she looks down at her faded boots.
Pausing, she lifts her eyes and sings
'just do the best you can.'


Freedom

Confused and lost, the end was all I wished.
Who told me life was beautiful? Who said?
No white I see, for only black exists.
Don't want to say, but I am filled with dread.

This broken body is my prison cell
Split bones and skin reveal ugly wounds.
There's no way out, at least that I can tell.
Inevitable death before me looms.

But wait! A gentle man comes with the key.
Matted scars vanish in his tender gaze.
His promise means that I no longer plea.
I stand secure beyond the end of days.

His perfect work reflects in transformed heart.
O Lord my God, how truly great Thou art!