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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2114938
A collection of poetry from the Mind of yours truly.

If I could turn back time,
Just grab the clock’s hands.

I'd grab those hands and give ‘em a spin.
Let ‘em roll round and round,
Watch the minutes come washing back.

I'd close my eyes and hold my breath,
Waiting for the moment to come.

Maybe those hands would never stop,
Just roll on backwards and replay it all.

The decades might slip by,
Centuries fading in mere hours.

Maybe I'd open my eyes and find a new world.
Perhaps I'd open them and see another time

Or a different place.
Different people?

Or maybe, just maybe I'd open my eyes,
And find myself right where I needed to be.


Quiet night.
Valiant fight.

His is the cost
Hers was the crossed

Slid ‘round the corner.
Now condemned a mourner.

‘Twas such a turn.
Caused a harsh burn.

Her attention did fail.
His soul to sail.

She'd lose control.
Now a lost soul.

The sirens call.
To a dropped ball.

His life did fade.
Her mistake was made.

Her life now in tatters
His heartbeat never flatter.

On to the next life.
Perhaps without the strife...


Gods above, Gods below.
With hot blood and cold steel we show,
Our hearts full of fire,
Our conviction never to tire.

We stand as the bulwark,
Our duty to stand and hark.
Should the alarm be raised,
Not one of us shall be fazed.

We shall march onward and fight,
Through perilous darkness and blissful light.
We shall show no remorse.
We will go on with a tempest's force.

Hold back the fanfare,
Avert your distant stare.
We fight not for glory,
So let me show you our story.

We are as the dike before the water
There to halt the innocent from slaughter.
No matter the number we stand,
The fortress under which flourishes the land.

You may not think of us often
For we keep ourselves in sight hidden.
But we stand ever watchful,
Guarding a peace ever hopeful...


Deep blue,
Darkness too.

Sights unseen.
Gods between.

First and more.
Ships galore.

Souls unbound.
What's to be found?

Soldiers tread.
Wake the dead.

Friends below.
They climb so slow…

The dead arise.
With unseeing eyes...

The deep blue.
And darkness too.

Some sight.
Such a fright...



One lonesome little letter.
Left alone, perhaps for the better.


Two little people,
Bound under a steeple.


A united front, joined together.
Held bound, not unlike leather.


A single, lonely being.
Left alone, only seeing.


A simple lost soul.
Forced to a path by his toll.


Devoid and rejected.
Her pain simply reflected.


An imperfect system, lost but loved,
A hope so fragile, carelessly shoved.

A Hand

I have a problem.
Just a small bit of unluck.
For I was dealt such a hand.
Full-House, Straight-flush!
I laughed to myself.
What a hand!
Then I found out.
What is such a hand?
If you know not how to play?
And now here I sit.
With such the streak of luck.
It just seems.
That I seem to have been,
Dealt such a hand,
Just in the wrong game.
© Copyright 2017 Bloodrebel (dempsey1996 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2114938