Poetry by Dino E-Book

Dean Evans

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

The art of Poetry I have been writing poetry for only a few years, and as such, can I really consider myself a poet?. The answer to this question is Yes. To be a poet is a condition, not a profession. Each individual who takes on the quest of writing poetry, places upon his, or her self not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion. Poetry is, not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. As a painter uses color, and the lack of color, light and shade, the poet uses language as his canvas, A poet uses the written word to express his "pictures" to the world. And if the poet is successful in what he is trying to say to the reader, it becomes the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own. Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out, perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure. Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. I've written some poetry I don't understand myself. At times, I may get a thought, and have a clear idea what I want to say, and before the poem is finished, I have gone in a totally different direction, as the lines and ideas flow in and out of my mind until the next one comes along to leave the finished poem in no way resembling the original idea that I started with. This is true of the Painter as well, seeing things not as they are, but as the Painter imagines they are. Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. The poet doesn't invent. He listens. The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth. Each memorable verse of a true poet has two or three times the written content. I find as I read through the hard copies of poems that I have written, there are many changed lines, or thoughts, crossed out and rearranged in an attempt to get the thoughts just as i imagine them in my mind, and that is a very difficult thing to accomplish. Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in. It enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. A sculptor is a person who is interested in the shape of things, a poet in words, a musician in sounds. All are on the same plane in my opinion, and all express to the audience in attendance, the thoughts of the artist. An artist is somebody who produces things that people don't need to have. Although people enjoy the art of the poet, the painter, the musician, these are not things that we need to survive, only things that help us enjoy, in a small way that survival. Dean Evans

Leseprobe

Dean Evans

Poetry by Dino

A collection of thoughts

This is dedicated to the one I loveBookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

IN THE SKIES OF IVORY BLACK

Time cannot be understood in human terms you see

The Universe explains itself, though not to you and me

Far out in the starlight lies an answer to it all

What have I done, where would I run, and hope to feel this small

For time does not consist of moments, seconds, days and years

You’ll find out in the distance, that your sorrow disappears

For we are made of starlight anyway, the story goes

Does time even exist at all?... The Heavens wont disclose

Look into the night, and you begin to travel back

Far into the past, deep in the skies of ivory black

Can you hear the ancient echoes ringing in your ears

You travel now in spacetime, collecting souvenirs 

What if all things happen in a instant?...future, past...

Your then is now, but now is then your shadow now uncast 

What would be your thoughts on Heaven , hell and earth as well

What would be inside my heart if true?... I just can’t tell

Everything you’ve ever known is waiting for you there

Though few you’ll find the answers to the Cosmos’ questionnaire

Ancient echoes lead you now to worlds lost long ago

Yours as well is gone lost far behind you, apropos... 

Time is but a man made thing, a measure of duration

It’s concept loses meaning with the awesome presentation

The Universe may keeps it’s secrets, lost to you and I

But I can hear the ancient echoes, in ivory blackened sky...

Dean Evans

5-2-14

HELPLESS

Every now and then I want to throw it all away

I fear my heart may burst, within the cold cruel light of day

The thought of you at times will leave my thoughts in disarray

Then somewhere on the wind your scent, Ah, soft and sweet bouquet

Perhaps my hope has witnessed restless memories depart

My mind left not in soft repose, your essence to impart

These visions thrust upon my mind such lovely, painful art

So that now, I know not how, my love lies torn apart

Remembering the way things were in the years that fate applied

Powerless, in dreams of you as love and loss collide

Deep within the darkness, where my memories reside

I implore my heart to answer me, my heart has not replied

And then I see you as you were, when you and I were one

Alone I lie, though in my mind the reasons come undone

Questions find no answers, though I search them one by one

My thoughts of you then forced into the loneliness of dawn

The tears, that fall in pairs are just as lonely as before

When last my heart deluged my eyes, to drop a thousand more

They fall together gracefully, and as I close the door 

They lie in silent pools of broken glass upon my floor 

In torn and tattered memories I dream I hear your voice

I struggle to survive those things insanity employs 

Then rise to greet another setting sun, though not by choice

My hope is lost within the feelings hopeless now enjoys

I wonder when I’ll reach my lowest point of no return

To find the charred remains where love and happiness were burned

Ashes of my heart were scattered, as each season turned

Thoughts were disassembled, my mind unable to discern

And so my soul has witnessed restless memories depart

To leave my mind unable to begin again, to start

To believe in love again, or so at least in part

So that I may know just why I’m Helpless...

to your heart.

Dean Evans 

5-2-14

SOMETIMES

If I had to love you only sometimes, 

I think I'd love you just when we're alone 

And sometimes we'd unplug the clock 

Maybe, we could make time stop 

And we could have forever to our own 

Sometimes.

If I could only say "I love you" sometimes 

I think I'd say it every other day 

Then, sometimes I'd go back to when 

It was my day to say again,"I love you" 

And you wouldn't know it's only

Sometimes.

If I was ever forced to leave you, sometimes

I'd leave you only when we said goodnight

So you could gently fall asleep 

With dreams of you and I to keep 

You from knowing things somehow weren't right 

Sometimes.

If I was called to live my whole life over 

I'd try to do most everything again 

But I'd leave out the part 

Where I caused pain to touch your heart 

And sadness wouldn't swirl around you 

Sometimes.

If I could be with you only sometimes 

I think that I would be with you today 

And sometimes we'd just sit and look at all the pictures in our book 

And we'd know that the worst thing we could say, 

Is "sometimes".

And if I could make you see things my way sometimes 

I'd only let you see my love for you 

And then I know you'd plainly see 

That sometimes isn't true for me 

For Sometimes loving you is all I do.

Dean Evans 

3-13-2006

WRETCHED IS THE HEART

Desolate is the heart, which is forced to cry alone 

Determined is the heart that yearns for love 

Fractured is the heart, that is left upon it’s own 

All of these, the heart is victim of 

Homeless is the heart that must beat, for lasting peace 

Jingoist, the heart that covets war 

Abashed the heart, that remembers not, life’s fragile ease 

All of this the heart endures, and more

Callous is the heart, that has known the pain of loss 

Wretched is the heart, that’s given in 

Wayward is the heart, that knows not, the fight for cause 

All of these the heart is, now and then 

Defenseless is the heart that beats for one, and always will 

Blinded is the heart that looks away 

Fortuitous the heart, that will love your heart until 

The Sun is gone, and light has lost the day

Gone astray, the heart that has lost God’s soothing grace 

Freed, the heart that calls on Him, divine 

Consumed, the heart within, that has longed to see your face 

Ravished is the heart, that calls you mine 

I think you’ve realized it is my heart, I speak of 

Nurturing the heart, that dries my tears 

Enduring is the heart, that beats for just your love 

Eternally the heart,

Eternal years.

Dean Evans

10-05-13

THE COLOR OF LOVE

If I could bottle up my love for you, what color would it be?

Would it be the red of passion or the deep blue of the sea 

Would the bottle hold the emerald green of lazy summer days

Or could it hold the soft pastels of your shy and loving ways

If I could keep our love inside, just to hold it near

Could I place it close, and hear the things I need to hear?

The sounds of whispers in my head that tell me you are mine

So bright that even out in space, we could see it shine

Do you see the color of our love? do you hear the sound I do

That everything that's held within, belongs to me and you

If thrown into the ocean, would our love come back to this?

The soft sand of that lonesome beach where you and I will finally kiss

To see the color of the world that we have between us now

Erase the black, the loss of love that comes sometimes, somehow

If we could put our love in places no one else could know

I'd have a hard time hiding it, I think my part might show

To keep it hidden from the world, would be something that I

May not be able to contain with your hand closed in mine

If I could place our love inside a bottle, keep it safe

The color would be that my love, of overwhelming faith

Of years we'll spend together, the days we'll drink like wine

I'll try to be your everything just so you'll be mine

A diamond glistening through the glass the bottle would contain

To block out what is darkness and shine through all the pain

For pain would have no place inside the vessel we have tossed

Into a dark, and restless sea we've not yet learned to cross

But I can see a shining light from oh, so far away

Together we will mix the colors, when they meet someday

The color of my love for you will come so clean and clear

A bottle thrown into the sea will float throughout the years

And bring my love to me one day, to leave behind goodbyes

The color of our love for me

is the color of your eyes....

Dean Evans 

11-28-06

IN BLACK AND BROKEN HEARTED

Do I look unwell?, I am although mostly in my mind

The years have passed too quickly, and love has been unkind

Clouded are my memories, some faded with the time

Places and some faces, are forgotten now I find

Gone are those who knew me in my youth, the days gone by

It saddens me to think about the love I knew as mine

Sweet she was to me, and so I drank it in like wine

Though torn apart, my broken heart, it leaves me cold and I

I see the frost that forms upon my feelings now and then

And wonder if my old and weathered soul will ever win

Or lose the strength to carry on, because of what has been

I've spent the years, in pain and tears, not to be loved again

And so it goes for such a man, I am the one who cries

Darkness overwhelms me in the midst of sunny skies

Left to wonder how this all can be, to reason why

Shattered, torn and tattered, after all the cruel goodbyes

The tears I cry continue, to the loneliness that started

When alone I visit solemn site, the loved and dear departed

Memories that come to me so closely held, and guarded

That now I stand so forlorn and, in black and broken hearted.

Dean Evans

8-21-10