Never

A poem from a darker period in my life:

Never once have I seen the setting sun.
Never once was I considered the better one.
From all the people that I have known.
The thoughts most confusing are my own.
From the sights I see with my eyes.
I find the truth made up of lies.
From all the wounds I have ever gained.
I realize now those wounds still give out pain.
Never understanding the fulfillment of dreams.
I know now reality is not what it seems.
All the emotions I use in my life.
Rip at my heart like a dull bladed knife.

’87

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Only in my dreams

A poem from a darker period in my life:

One day of glory under the sun.
Only this moment I have won.
Stepping down to let another shine.
Feeling jealous, and yet so blind.
To see the truth from all the lies.
To look into a face and find all it hides.
Seeming all I want is out of grasp.
All the good things are in my past.
Hoping no one will take my prize.
But there is no response to my cries.
Understanding not everyone will become kings.
I find I am always glorious, only in my dreams.

10-4-88

Darkened

A poem from a darker period in my life:

Darkness is my world, I pain to sight the day.
Even though my thoughts are swirled I knew someday I’d pay.
My life is filled with loneliness.
And everyday is met with pain.
Dreaming my life would be glorious.
But day after day always remains the same.
My life is like a game that cannot be won.
No matter how hard I try I continue to fall.
Always hiding myself from everyone.
For I fear to show myself to anyone at all.
Death I see stand before me.
Like a friend I shake his hand.
I knew some day this had to be.
The end to my darkened land.

9-19-88

New Year’s Party

Subject: Love at First Sight
Setting: New Year’s Eve
Time period: Any
Length: 1000 words
Restrictions: the main character cannot speak
Due: Dec. 31

Heather quickly walked down the streets of Manhattan. It was taking her longer than she expected but she never had the patience to try to drive anywhere in this chaos. She had moved to New York City only a few short years ago. Her modest living back home left her wanting more to see and do. In such a big city with so many people she never grew bored. She felt happier than she had ever been and never had a problem staying well fed. She considered this her new start on life.

With only an hour left before midnight she rushed across the street looking up at the street sign, ‘47th Street’. She only had a few more blocks to go to get her New Year’s party. The night was extremely cold but the streets were filled with people celebrating and drinking.

She made it to the building that her party was in. She had heard that Times Square and the dropping of the New Year’s Ball could be seen from the roof. She rushed into the front doors out of the cold and rode the elevator up to the top.

The elevator doors opened into a large welcoming room with many people standing around talking. She slipped through the crowd to the door of the party. A large man stood in front of the door looking at I.D. and taking a hundred dollar cover charge. Heather had neither.

She took off her coat and adjusted her dress to show a little more of herself and slowly approached the large man.

“Identification.” He said holding out his hand.

Heather did not say a word. Instead she greeted him with a twirl of her long red hair and the batting of her light blue eyes.

The man looked her over, looked around the room and then back to her. ”Go ahead,” he said in a soft voice motioning her forward. She quickly slipped in.

The large room was decorated with ‘Happy New Year’ signs and filled with people. Loud music played in the room and wait staff handed out glasses of Champaign. My kind of a party!

She spent the next several minutes enjoying the festive environment. Her short black dress did its job at attracting attention. Several men approached her trying to made conversation but the loud music made it impossible. Since none of them interested her she did not pay them much attention.

She moved to the window looking down onto the streets below. In the distance she could see Time Square and the massive crowd that had gathered. Next to her, a man and a woman started to walk out to the balcony but a gust of cold air made them turn back. Although the balcony offered a great view of the Square the party goers seemed content on staying inside where it was warm.

Heather continued to stand near the window looking around the room. Soon her eyes fell on a wonderful sight, a man standing about 6’1 with blonde hair and a handsome face. He wore a dark blue suit and a Happy New Year necktie. She guessed his age to be about twenty-two. The man stood next to a group of other men drinking. Heather thought to herself how nice it would be to celebrate the start of the New Year with this young man.

She devised her plan. The music made it impossible to hold a conversation, but Heather was a master of body language. She adjusted her dress and brushed her hair out of her face.

Slowly walking over to the man, she picked up two glasses of Champaign from the tray of a passing waitress. Within a few steps of him, he turned to look at her. His eyes opened wide looking her over from head to toe. Heather did not say a single word. She stopped and smiled just within inches of the man close enough to smell his cologne. She held out a glass of Champaign for him and took a drink from hers. He took the glass from her. The other men around him all turned nudging him in the side. Heather held eye contact with his deep brown eyes and slowly turned away. She walked back to her place by the window in her catwalk style.

She lifted the glass up to her lips and looked back over at the man pretending to take a sip. She did not care for the taste of the Champaign and it only made her hungrier. The man looked enthralled by her performance. The other men around him pushed and urged him to walk over to her. He stood there looking confused. How much of a hint did this guy need?

Slowly and somewhat reluctantly the man walked toward her. It’s about time.

He looked up at her and tried to say something but the words were drowned out by the sound of the music. Trying to read his lips she guessed he said some corny line about love at first sight. How original. This guy was a regular poet.

Without words, they stood there admiring each other for a few minutes. The man reached out his arm and put it around her. She did not mind his touch since she planned for a lot more. When the man felt her bare shoulders, he started to take off his jacket to offer her. She held out her hand to stop him.

Heather looked outside to see it was a few minutes before midnight. Quickly looking out onto the balcony and seeing it empty she motioned to the man to step outside. He shook his head and muttered something inaudible. Heather looked up at him flashing her seductive eyes hoping he would not refuse a second time. She took his hand and led him out into the cold. At her touch, he quickly complied.

Outside, they had the area to themselves although the music still made it difficult to hold a conversation. He pointed to the countdown clock that showed less than a minute left to go. She carefully eyed the area for a place on the balcony that would be away from the prying eyes inside. She led him by the hand to an area she felt was private enough. He looked at her curiously.

Alone and in private she took him in her arms. He eagerly kissed her, caressing her body with his hands. In the street below she could hear the countdown start. She was excited.

She broke from their kiss and slowly ran her lips down his neck. He felt so warm. The man’s body reacted in delight.

“…five, four, three, two, one!!” the countdown ended. Cheering and fireworks could be heard all around them.

Heather could not contain herself anymore, she was much too anxious. She slowly sunk her fangs into the man’s neck with savored anticipation. She drank in every warm drop. As the man starting to grow cold and limp, she thought to herself what a great year this had started out to be.

Full and content, she flew off into the night.

Young Warrior

Young Warrior

Sections of time melting away,
Tearless eyes seeming to say,
I cannot be hurt, I will not bleed.
Although the truth is easy to read.
Once a fierce warrior, now fallen.
The only rule to battle, not all can win.
His mighty sword, broken and lost.
Once he possessed a heart of fire, now frost.
Broken will, shattered dreams,
All is lost, so it seems.

On the darkest of nights, hallowest of eves,
Visitors seek the warrior rustling the leaves.
The warrior stands up unwilling to fight,
Outside stand three warriors in the misty night.
One calls his name but he shows no fear,
“If you are expecting a Challenge, you will not find it here.
I am not the warrior I was in the past,
My courage and strength, for long, did not last.”
One calls to him, “if your spirit is lost you will surely die,”
The three warriors look fierce, unbeatable to his eye.
Fear and envy rage, he wishes he could be more like them.
Beaten before starting, this night, to him, looks grim.
A wolf cries in the distance, the wind wildly shrieks,
To him, he is sure it is death now he greets.

Raising his guard, lowering his head, he steps out.
The night is cold against his skin, he starts the bout.
His quickness is slow, but he knocks one to the ground.
He follows him down and snaps his neck with a cracking sound.
With swords not yet drawn, the other two attack with might.
Blows exchange blows, these warriors are too strong to fight.
The last two warriors he will kill, this in his mind he sets,
Beaten badly he still stands, the sword of the dead warrior he gets.
The warriors pull their swords and engage him.
Their skill is great, he will need more strength to win.
He summons all his strength, the fire inside burns bright.
He strikes one to the chest, only one more to fight.

The one left is the strongest of all three,
His skills and strength are great, damn, I wish I were he.
Blood spills on both sides, but no one gives in.
Both giving their best, for only one will win.
Blade meets blade, as iron meets stone,
The night turns red, as the final blow is thrown.
The last warrior falls, losing this fight.
The once fallen warrior’s spirit is rekindled on this night.
Battle beaten and tired he sits down in the grass,
Now he has regained his self, this time it will last.

He sees with his eyes the three dead warriors start to rise.
He stands quickly, what black magic has kept them from their demise?
Healed, without wounds, the three walk closer to him.
He pulls his sword, stands his ground, fear spreads within.
He beat them once, he feels that he will beat them again.
The three dead warrior, swords sheathed, they too know he would win.
They stand before him, they speak his name once more
“We are ancient warriors of an ancient Lore,
We died in battle long ago, our fires bright until the end.
Your fire would have died before its time, it, we had to mend.”
He asked the three, “why my fire to mend from beyond the grave?”
“Young warrior” one replied, “it is our family honor we save,
For I am your grandfather’s grandfather, young warrior you see.
This is my grandfather’s grandfather, and so on is he.”
He sees the oldest ancestor was the strongest of all three.
Twelve generations back his family was strong indeed.

The young warrior descends to his knees in respect of ancestors of his.
“Great now is your strength young warrior, greater than ours, it is.
We leave this earth once more, keep our family strong
It is your responsibility now, bear us no wrong.
You will too leave this earth one day, honor you will earn.
If another member falters, to this earth you will return.”
He watches as his ancestors disappear into the mist, out of sight.
The young warrior lays back to gaze at the stars, again alone with the night.

Grant Smith – 1995