writing Some Poetry

[ZomBrony 347]

I'm writing all my poems in one thread this time because I have a bunch that I've written recently. Normally I'll probably give each poem it's own thread.

So here goes it:

Lights
The lights
They shine
In this hall of warmth
As time goes by
I begin to grow bored
As my attention, it fails me
I begin to block out
And as I ignore the area around me
The walls, they grow
The thoughts, they flow
Then, once tortured again
My mind goes numb 

Faithless
All around me
I see
Those with talent
Some without
They all say the same;
Have faith in oneself
But I question this
How can one have faith
When there's nowhere to put it? 

 

Times Like These

Times like these
When I again grow bored
Where I retreat within
Whilst climbing through
Near desperately searching
For something to do
When there's nothing to help me
When I have nothing to lose
It's these words I search for
But then, of course
The unwanted arises
These pictures I see
The things I remember
Always dreading
And always regretting
Within my mind 

Younger Days

Here I am, I sit today
Oh so far, so far away
Here it is that I think aback
To my younger days, my simpler ones
You all know them
Before those days, I always wonder
What is it
That I could have done better?
I wonder so long, and oh so often
About these things
It's quite horrific, really
Some things are bad
And some and sad
But I'll always remember
The ones that were better

 

Memories of Kindness

Do you ever think back?

I do, and now is one of those times
Whether these times be of good or bad
In doing so
I reminisce of when I was young
It was simpler then, as was I
Then I recall
All of my firsts
List them, need not
For now is remembrance
The colours seemed brighter
The people seemed kinder
But now, in my years of time
There is more, so much more
More things to do
Places to go and people to see
More thoughts to think
And still, so much more than these
It is now I call upon my memories
And though I do, none come to mind
Of people, them being so kind
I know there are
But the numbers are few
Of all those kind people
Then, upon remembering this
I know that they're out there
Just somewhere to hide