Music to MeliDawn's Ears


(Poems by my dear friends)

These are some poems by my friends. I have been blessed with many talented friends who enjoy poetry as much as I do.

Keep coming back, because this page will change constantly, as I have many poems by my friends which are good, but I understand short attention spans (Lord knows I have one) and don't put many at a time on here. So pleae revisit and see the different talents and perspectives of my friends. :)

Created for MeliDawn
By: Ryan V.

Twas a starry night, in which I saw a new star resting in the heavens.
At first it was dull, nothing like the others, then shone brighter than the rest.
Perchance it twas for attention, perhaps for one's delight.
As this star flickered, it brought upon one doubt.
Sure this star shines so very bright,
Like a cosmic flare, the attraction of the night.
Poetry is such like a star,
Mearly a reflection of one's soul.
Should this soul be tainted, the light will pass in time.
Should the soul be true, then the light will shine brighter with each passing night.


Conquest
By Ryan V.

Cloned emotions, fired desire, hatred flares, death conspires, cold faith, warm embrace.
Farthest sight, closest mirth, darkest night, newest birth.
Contemplating fear, contemplating death. A constant measure, a constant force.
In the end those who exist, and those who have no soul, exist mearly to end up alive.

Copyright 1998 by RV

Treasured Thing
by: B. Bruster
10/26/98

I grabbed
my father's pocket
black leather Bible
after his death.
Its spine tearing,
the gold letters
engraved on its
front
affixes it to him.
Maybe it was there
with him in the war.
He read it sometimes
its pages tell me so.
Blank pages,
one at the front,
one at the back
both
scribbled with red crayon
suggest,
he may have
read it to me, too.

Copyright 1998 by BB

THE DANCE OF THE LITTLE WHITE DUCK
By: Robby A.

The little white duck,
he dances well.
he dances high
he dances swell.

the little white duck dances in the dark
where he can not be found.
he dances far away
he dances all around.

he dances high,
he dances low.
why is he dancing?
I do not know...

Copyright 1998 by RA

Memories
By: Crystal T.

Memories can come back
To haunt you through life
Remembering bad memories
Can feel like a knife
Stabbing you through
Till you feel no more pain
The memories of life
Will not go away
Yet remembering the good things
That happened through life
Can heal the wounds
Of the piercing knife
To remember the joy
And happiness
And remembering the sorrow
And all the sadness
Can help you get through
A life full of mistakes
To remember waht you did
And ease the pain

Copyright 1998 by CT

Untitled
By: Elliot K.

"Oh for a muse of fire"
Once asked one I admire
Truely such a muse of fire
That is a mighty high desire
Yet one each poet should aspire
Unless his pen is out to tire
Unless he doesn't strive to get wee nigher
To perfection and an art wee higher
And so my mind--while my pen 'plys for hire'--
Does scout for ways towards that muse of fire
In the attempt to tune my miserable lyre
String by string with effort always slightly higher


Untitled
By: Elliot K.

The sun is jumping up and high
Into the beautiful and flawless sky.
Joyfully the birds are singing
Of what the coming day'll be bringing.
The flowers raise and open up,
With spreading leave and gleaming cup.
What will you do today, my friend,
The heart's oerwhelming mirth to mend?

Copyright 1998 by EK


DEAR JEAN
By: Robin Y.

---written for my good friend Jean F. AKA Matchmaker

When you're feeling down and blue
remember I'll always be here for you.
When you're feeling sad
remember all the fun yet to be had.
We can go to the movie
and act a little bit loony,
or we can annoy
all those cute boys.
As you can see we have lots to do
so you better get well real soon.

Copyright 1998 by RY

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