They always say    

That we should live our lives to the fullest,

And be the best we could be;

Maybe we could make a difference.

But in the end,

Our lives lose importance.

We are born,

We live our lives as we choose,

And then we die,

Forgotten in time,forever.

Life is such a fleeting thing.

Soon,we'll all be just dust in the wind

Blowing over an endless sea,

And across an ageless sky.

Every moment passed is a moment lost.

A life is nothing more than one pebble

In the mountain of time,

One star in the Heavens,

One grain of sand on an infinite beach.

When this life is over,we will all die,

And the memories of us will be forgotten,

And we will all

Just keep on blowing

Til the end of time

Like dust in the wind.  

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was published in The Page,a poetry zine by the Writer's Circle at Elyria High in 1996.

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Through all the forgotten castles of my mind,stands

This one,

I readily go there,all the time,halls and more halls

Of cold emptiness there and pain.Its my domain.

I don't need to build another one,is already here, always

Being there in my head,

So old,starting to fall apart now, like a dark angel at

One time,

Through the ravishes of unforgiven times, now is decaying

Starting from inside, I feel the coldness cutting deep.

It's alive.

There are drafts freezing cold, coming from everywhere,

I taste them, I feel them in my bones, on my naked flesh

But I can't touch them, I can't see them,

Or cover them with any plaster or my single wish,

But they're there, alright, cold, like angry claws

scratching and squeezing my very soul and breath.



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Lost Winter

The winter came

Landing gently on my paper

The trees reached out like veins for the heavens

On the this gloomy night

The swings laid still

I listen for the swaying of the night

And calmness to come to life

The soft drizzle of the creek in my head

The world was alive

And everyone was dead

A voice in the night lay to waste

No one here to listen and follow it’s pace

I could hear deep in my past

Years before this night ever came

I lost my mother

I remember

In the calming nights of December

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Falklands 82



Soggy smelling peat
On a smoke obscured hill,
like a blanket.
Souls bonded together,
fear conquered.
pale pinched faces,
Only the eyes,
Bright, alert,
The mirror of our

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We sat during lulls in the battle for Darwin Hill,in the middle of the burning gorse bushes.In an effort to keep warm.The bodies of the dead kept us company, till the battle ended and they could be recovered.

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