Anna Vera's Poems » Age 25 – Age 30

Thinking of Me

Anna — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 17:19:00 +0000

I hung up the phone,
And then I went home,
Knowing you were still thinking of me;

I lay down for the night,
And I turned out the light,
But I knew you were thinking of me;

So I lit up a candle
Took a book from the mantle,
And I read of the Antarctic Sea;

And I tried to erase
The imprint of your face
From my tumbling and torn memory.

In the morning I woke.
In my mind your voice spoke,
And I wished you’d forget about me.

And the hours went by,
But as hard as I tried,
I couldn’t stop thinking of thee…

The streets filled with rain,
And I fought with the pain,
Why hadn’t you forgotten me?

The sky filled with thunder,
And I started to wonder,

If you really
Were thinking
Of me.

- Written by Anna Williams at Age 26

Do You Ever Wish

Anna — Mon, 23 Jul 2007 01:04:00 +0000

Do you ever wish
To paint your life
In black and white,
And hang some sad nostalgic music in the back,
And put it on a TV screen
For men in future years to see
And say, “This must have been
The way things used to be …”

Do you ever walk the street
And half-imagine you might meet,
Some half-forgotten face from long ago
Although inside you really know,
You’re walking where they’d never go …

Do you ever sit and look
At ancient photos you once took,
Long-lost faces in a book,
And examine them a million times
As if to read between the lines,
As if you might see something more,
That wasn’t ever there before …
Something new, that might resolve
The mystery you never solved.

Do you ever wonder why
Faces wilt and flowers die,
People change and time goes by,
Leaving you to stand and sigh
At night beneath the starry sky
Watching comets fall and fly …

― Written by Anna Vera Williams at Age 26

Creator

Anna — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 21:54:00 +0000

Neath a shrouded midnight star,
Blinded by the blackened road,
Riding endlessly and far
Where the wind is hard and cold,
By the river, long and deep,
Where the wicked willows blow,
Ill with pain and wanting sleep
Where the frozen waters flow,

Rider of the raging sea
Roamer where the rivers roll,
Weaver of eternity -
Guardian of my own soul;

Wrapped within the wings of time,
Captured by a quiet curse,
Bounded by the ruthless rhyme
Of a cruel universe;

Lone upon a mountain slope,
Or barefoot in the valley streams …
I am the holder of my hopes,
I am creator of my dreams.

- Written by Anna Williams at Age 26

Half a Hemisphere Away

Anna — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 22:53:00 +0000

Half a hemisphere away
I hear the things
You do not say.
I hear the thundering of your heart.
It tears my life and soul apart.
It echoes in my head and ears,
I tremble on the bed in tears,
I see you sitting, far, alone,
Silent like a block of stone,
With your head against the wall
Wishing, praying I would call …
Someday, I suppose I might
In the middle of the night.
While you lie there, softly dreaming,
When your heart has ceased its screaming,
When I’ve long since ceased to weep …
I wish you would go to sleep.
I wish the thundering would cease,
And let me lie and dream in peace.

― Written by Anna Vera Williams at Age 23

Box

Anna — Wed, 02 May 2007 21:56:00 +0000

I found your photo
In a box.
It didn’t move.
It didn’t talk.
And every day,
I looked in vain,
And every day,
It stayed the same.
It didn’t answer me,
Or change.
The lines across
Your face remained
Exactly where
They’d been before.
I hung your picture
On a door,
I lay my memories
On the floor.
I put your picture
On the wall.
You didn’t write.
You didn’t call.
My stomach burned
My hope grew small.
I couldn’t hear
Your voice at all.
And in my dreams
The letters came,
And when I woke
I heard your name.
But the picture
Stayed the same.

- Written by Anna Williams at Age 26

Dust in the Earth

Anna — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 06:18:00 +0000

Yours is the voice of the enemy -
Cold is your clutch on my soul.
Strange are the words pouring emptily -
Telling me why you should go.

And my blood courses, rich and volcanic;
It pulses and quickens my breath,
For you leave me for reasons Satanic;
You leave me to follow your death.

But I loved you, far more than you wondered,
Perhaps more than ever you’ll know
You were the heartache, who thundered,
And rocked through my vigilant soul.

If my poetry rolls through the ages
While your heart fades to dust in the earth,
You soul might survive in its pages,
If for only its pages hold worth …

When you no longer you come to me knocking
Quietly outside my door,
And we no longer we spend the night talking,
Sitting for hours on the floor,

Remember, my love never crushed you.
I held it and hid it within;
Remember my life never touched you.
Mine were the eyes of the sin,

And you were my death and damnation,
Hungry and black like a hole,
For I poured all my life and creation
Into the void of your soul,

If you hear not a warning I whisper,
And heed no entreaty I cry,
Then your future shall whither and blister,
After you’ve left me behind …

If my poetry rolls through the ages,
For centuries after our birth,
Your soul will live on in its pages,
While your heart fades to dust in the earth;

Then shall the future forsake you.
Remorse will not rescue your soul,
Nor the fires of hell re-awake you,
As the thundering centuries roll,

And my footsteps will follow and haunt you
My heartbeat will shake in your ears;
The sounds of my prayers will taunt you
For the next thousands of years,

And the words of the warnings I whispered
Will echo and ache in your mind,
And your future shall whither and blister,
After you’ve left me behind,

And the rivers will roll in the valleys,
Glaciers will thunder and crawl,
Comets will plummet in sallies
Over the firmament wall,

And the mists will arise from the oceans,
Earth will encircle the sky,
Men will abandon their notions,
Civilizations will die,

And my poetry, roll through the ages,
While this Babylon rolls into rust.
Your soul will live on, in its pages …
Your heart will decay into dust.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 27