“If you must write of assassinations, rape, and Ophelia suicides, speak the speech, I pray thee, poetry in your breath, metaphors on your tongue. Remember how glad Iago was to think on Othello’s fall. How, with smiles, Hamlet prepared his uncle’s death.
Shakespeare and my Demon schooled me so: Be not afraid of happiness. It is often the soul of murder.”

That's a quote by Ray Bradbury that I read one time. I've always loved it.

The Day You Died

Wrote this one several years ago when I found out that my Aunt Thelma had passed away.

The Day You Died

The news hit me like freight train
When they told me that you died
Tears came without ceasing
And I did nothing but cried

I could fill the oceans
With the stories that you told me
It seems life won’t give me a break
And steals my loved ones slowly

My soul's a terrible vacuum
I’ve become an empty void
My prayers are silent on the wind
My hopes and dreams destroyed

Easter was the time of year
I favored above all other
Memories that once held me close
Now desert me like a lost lover

You were my favorite aunt
And I will mourn the loss
Of both the family and the friend
Who through death's river now must cross

Fire and Ice

New poem. Still horrible. I may use it as a basis to make a blank verse poem.

Fire and Ice

Your hair kissed by flames
Eyes tempered with ice
Wrapped in your arms
Always felt so nice

We run hot
We run cold
Girl, I cried when
Our love turned old

If indifference is
The opposite of love
We've never been that
Always wanting friendship or blood

This leads me to believe
How we act is to disguise
The true feelings left behind
The ones we cover with lies