Fallen Letters
A Book of Poems
Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark
http://www.lawrencesyloucreutzojermark.com
Copyright © Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark 2011
Smashwords edition
All rights reserved
The right of Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
First published in the United States electronically 2011 by Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark
Smashwords
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Other Books By: Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark
FANTASY
The Winds of Moira
COMING SOON - SCI FI (series)
Empire’s End
COMING SOON – FITNESS
Plenary Fitness
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
These works have been inspired by countless individuals and events so it would take a while to list all of those who have inspired a set of words on a crumpled piece of paper. I would however like to thank my parents for giving me the education and upbringing, which fostered the development of my writing skills. I’d like to thank my wife for her patience with me working on my writing, and for her help in development of the cover art for this book. I’d like to thank all those who have shared a part of their life with me.
INTRODUCTION
I have been writing since I was a child. I remember as a teenager cleaning up my room and finding little booklets with short stories in them that I didn’t recall writing. It wasn’t however until I was living in Spain in 1998 that I began to write poetry.
I never thought much of it, and to be perfectly honest I thought it wasn’t the most ‘manly’ expression of oneself. I no longer think or feel that way, and due to the ease of scribbling a few short sentences onto paper, I have consequently written hundreds upon hundreds of poems. Now when I clean a place I may find stick-it notes, or notebook pages with a poem I hadn’t remembered writing.
Many of my poems have never made it much further than a set of scratchings on a piece of paper before finding their way to the trash bin. Most were merely an expression of an emotion I felt at the time. Some were more than that and made their way to whomever it was I was dating at the time, all of whom were very special women and quite dear to me.
Few people have read them, and in all honesty many of my poems are rather cryptic that I don’t quite remember what it was I was trying to convey. All the same, it did take some effort to find some of the poems I liked more, deciphering my chicken scratch into a legible word document, and finally editing and compiling this book. I therefore hope you enjoy. If you do please remember to write a review on whatever site you bought this book from, and I will continue to write in response.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A blood line’s fears shall go extinct…
A random scribble of the pen….
A blood line’s fears shall go extinct…
Steely eyes cast shadows of fear over that rugged terrain,
A place of fetid winds and hidden swamps, bogging down memory and washing away pain,
Yet there it still lies, eating away at that morbid flesh, as chunks of destiny swirl away,
Where has it all gone?
Time and winds coerce that vision, twisting it like a knife in that swollen belly,
Blood flows and splashes about, but with eyes closed, and ears sewn shut not a sound echoes
through those lonely halls.
What has happened?
Yellowed teeth snarl, bite and slash, as decrepit lungs battle for air in the early morning light,
Yet all that can be seen are the gray clouds of shadow and doubt, lingering over the scene,
like the hazy fog of regret, after too many actions gone wrong.
When will it end?
Days unceasingly climax like bitter shrews hacking away after unfulfilled pleasure, greedy
little eyes, steeling peeks of hidden treasures, inside a web of torrential pain,
Can it be stopped?
I want it to stop.
Standing tall on a mountainous hilltop surveys that eagle of hope, wings spread wide,
peering through that hazy mist, and penetrating those murky waters, seeing the depths of
hidden truth, beyond the foul pools of stinking desire.
There stands strength and honor, bright as a beacon, casting out despair.
What sword is this in my hand dripping with the recent blood of an illusional heart
Mirroring the past like a grand echo across a chasm of pain and regret
How heavy is this weight, a burden unshared, hidden and safe from eyes unseen
Shedding veiled tears into that pit of apathetic strength, hollow, and hard
And now the time has come for the strings of intimacy to be cut
No longer reaching across that impossible ocean of time and space,
Wiping that bloodied blade on internal flesh, marking the unspeakable
For time’s own eyes, locking in that which begs to be free,
Until daybreak comes, releasing the pain, and sorrow of a thousand unspent storms
Which speaks of a silent honor, one of questionable virtue, but unheralded form.
Unbridled passion pulses through these veins,
Each pounding beat compounds the frenzy of emotion
boiling beneath the skin, stripping each moment
piece by piece,
from a shattered reality reflected in a thousand shards,
So that each bloodied step sends sharp pains
of intense relief to a teetering soul,
Standing on the cusp of the chasm of love,
Deliberately contemplating that final step,
slowly feeling warmer, wrapped in a blanket of faith,
Until understanding dawns upon this restless soul.
My heart cannot breathe for the stabbing pain it feels,
How can so few words cut so deeply?
Is it because I had lowered that protective wall?
Is it because as a fool I chose to trust one that cannot
Find their own meandering way?
What deceit and trickery must I face before
I finally see the strings that have played me,
Tugging at my emotions as would they a rag doll.
Now I find little strength or comfort in the stars,
Nor can I seek the solace of friendship or family,
For I am but an island of thought and emotion
In this foreign land, struggling to stay afloat.
How can I be floating amongst the clouds stroking the hair of an angel,
Staring upon those eyes, smiling as I have rarely seen them smile,
Only to cast such warmth, such beauty to the shadows of my mind,
And into that aching vault of a heart, falling through my chest.
Where to turn? What to do?
For my mind is plagued with that sole unattainable desire!
I must seek Solace now, Yes only he can provide comfort,
Comfort of thought from action, that I most need now.
I can’t help but gaze upon that golden shaft of light, watching those soft hues dance and play with the afternoon air, settling upon that lone flower in a sea of flowers, whose colors shine without repose or remorse.
A blossom beyond compare, standing straight it gazes deeply into the light, soaking in the warmth of a Spring day, sipping quietly upon that last glistening drop of due, which freely gives its moisture to her, happy to be free of a mortal form.