Tag: Stoic poetry

Guilty

The wind caresses my ears
Speaking of distant hopes and fears
Of humanity that has gone awry 
Of those who have given up the try

Are we destined to forever fail?
To live a life where all must wail
Was this always part of the plan
It cannot be the eternal lot of man

If we are made guilty by design
There must be some kind of sign
A key to the changing of our ways
Or forever like this we will stay


The Thunder Rolls

  Beating a rhythm 
  Of time before time
  Primal power

  The engine of the world
  Turning over
  Flash and crack
  The spark of life 

  Igniting the atmosphere 
  In the dark of night
  creations cradle
  births the coming day

All the Same

Hands shaking quiet and cold
Always so defiant and bold
Never mind what we do
Never mind what we say

What you feel in your skin
Shivers down your spine
There is no one to blame
And we are all the same

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Stephen Allen


Bio: Stephen Allen was born and raised in Northern Ireland before relocating to Canada.
I have lived in the US and currently reside in Austria.

I have a novel and a poetry book self published, as well as several short stories. (Amazon KDP)

I also have a blog on WordPress; Through The cracked Window (revisited) 

Edge of Dawn

The velvet tears as night to day 
The darkness fades and gives way
To dawns edge of the coming light
Bidding farewell to the fading night

And in the new we bid adieu 
To the tired and fleeting dark
To greet the new day in its dance
Another days journey to Embark

Hard World

Candy Floss and bubble gum dreams
most of us grew up with, so it seems
No real monsters under our beds
Leaving the nightlight on to be safe instead

Little by little the chinks appear
in the stories we were told for years
little slips show the cracks inside
to break our worlds of candied lies

For too long we were protected
when we needed to be respected
now we are left to our devices
with no training on telling
what nice is

Broken

Blood flows freely from a broken heart, 
As dandelions play, as songbirds dance,
Sunny days do nothing to stem the flow,
Across fields of green, among cleansing streams
 
When there never was a chance,
Blood must flow, the sun must rise,
If ever again to open these eyes,
In fields of green, and cleansing streams 


Bio: Stephen Allen was born and raised in Northern Ireland before relocating to Canada.
I have lived in the US and currently reside in Austria.

I have a novel and a poetry book self published, as well as several short stories. (Amazon KDP)

I also have a blog on WordPress; Through The cracked Window (revisited)