April 13, 2012
The Goal of Love

The end of April

Came the heartbreak 

Between you and me.

It poured off and on

As we tangoed

Through the grassy plain.

You wore black and white 

And soared through the air

From side to side.

Down 2-0 at half

Exhaustion took over.

As the whistle blew

A new half began.

One goal scored

After a minute in.

It went silent.

I think about the eerie silence,

It was a dreadful sound. 

I think about the last 

Goal we scored.

You made me a believer.

Then the seconds hit

Almost the end of the game

When we were defeated.

Between you and me

We were perfect

Until that day. 

And we will never be the same,

A love quickly lost.

My poem that can be interpreted as a love for soccer or a lover. You decided how you want to interpret it. 

12:06pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z32QpvJbMAVh
Filed under: Love poem soccer goal 
April 8, 2012
Your Eyes Are Like The Ocean


The blue-grey of your eyes, are glistening,

yet they are as still as the ocean sea

on a calm early morning.


Ocean so full of life, at mid-day,

you seem to have many waves of hope

that flows in with the current. 


As the setting sun sparkles, across the ocean,

the day is coming to an end and tomorrow 

you will begin a new day of persistence. 


But at twilight the full moon, will shine bright,

reflecting the light off of the ocean into your face

 showing off your perfect blue-grey eyes.

12:57pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z32QpvJJ2a-H
Filed under: Poem ocean sea love eyes hope life 
March 28, 2012

I miss the memories.
We were so young
And in love.
Even though I denied it.

My heart and soul
Felt it.
The day we met
On the broken down tennis courts.

A light filled inside me
One that will never fade.
We were meant to meet
That fateful spring.

But now time has passed
And we have forgotten
What it was like
To be so full of life.

After three years
We have reconnected.
As the memories come flooding back
I realize,

You were perfect
And I blew it.
But now
I’ve moved on.


— Another poem I did for my class. The ending is kind of harsh, but I didn’t really know what else to do for it. So it is open for ideas and changes. Poetry is always changing as it is. I love the study of poetry and my creative writing class has showed me the love of studying poetry. Maybe I should get my masters in creative writing. But what else can I do with that besides write my own stuff? There is no money in that and I don’t really like half the things I write any way… 

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