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~ reflections ~

on blue nights
the fading sun retreats,
and years like moments past
rush clearly by.
so much more of what is gone
now follows me on home
and I am left with empty rooms,
and time to count the echoed words
of sad goodbyes.

before the little feet
of children dancing
filled my heart with joy.
and now reflections
fill my eyes with tears . . .
memories of a time
that's gone
and lost forever.



~ Edgar Allan Poe ~
Tamerlane


I reach'd my home - my home no more -
For all had flown who made it so.
I pass'd from out its mossy door,
And, tho' my tread was soft and low,
A voice came from the threshold stone
Of one whom I had earlier known -
Oh, I defy thee, Hell, to show
On beds of fire that burn below,
An humbler heart - a deeper woe.



~ there where you left stars ~

I now see holes
empty graves
of dreams
that never were



~ death ~

I remember the crying
and the nightmares
and the wanting to see my dad
after everyone had told me
that he went to heaven,
and I remember the coffin
and the black hearse
and the stillness on his face.

and I remember holding your hand
while you cried,
when I begged him to wake up,
but he wouldn't.

and I remember the silence
of that day,
and the long ride to Monroe,
and the black clothing,
and the fresh flowers,
and the playing of taps,
and the tears.

and I remember you holding me
while someone spoke softly in the rain,
until you couldn't hold me any longer
and had to be held by grandpa
so you wouldn't fall down.

and after that day
I couldn't remember you anymore

until now.



~ desolation ~

everything
is
F R O Z E N
light
splinters
through
the rigid oaks
the ground
S N A P S
echoes
into
S I L E N C E
carried
on
the
slashing
streams
of
swirling
I C E

everything
is
F R O Z E N
love becomes
the darkness
burden
to the cold
lone heart . . .
beating
out
of
tune.



~ words ~

we live in words . . .
reflections of our same old selves
always wanting more
than some good way
to know that we have really lived

we grow old between the space
we do not touch
and the people
that we never learn to love.



~ warrior ~

I've met this same old warrior before;
he's smashed my bleeding hands into this book
and scattered my heart across these battle lines.

he's smashed me into solid rock
and stolen all my dreams
and left me for a vulture's feast.

I know he will return.

I've met this same old warrior before;
he's stabbed me with his bloody sword
and ripped me into pieces across these pages.

he's left me dying in the cold dark night
and filled my mind with nightmares
and hidden me away in lonely silence.

I've met this same old warrior before.

I know he will return.



With the exception of the Quotes,
all poetry and prose on this page
are propery of Phil Ellenbecker.
For permission to copy, publish or print
please contact Phil at the e-mail link provided below.


Poetry by Phil Ellenbecker 2001 Troll Creations

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