Poetry Book Proposal Poems

Reality

One always thinks when one is young
that they are a song yet to be sung
Fame and fortune are just a matter of time
No mountain is too high for them to climb

But the years roll by, too quickly, it seems
and, one by one, end all of your dreams
The truth prevails, and you finally see
that what never was can never be
For that is life
Reality.


***************************************

Quiet

In quiet times I sit
thinking often I should quit
The noisy world above
all the things I do not love

But the quiet, it does grow
It starts to rumble, deep and low
My ears grow weak and dumb
and back again I come


**************************************

I've heard the mermaids singing

I've heard the mermaids singing
with voices gentle and fair

I've watched the mermaids braiding
their long and golden hair

I've seen the mermaids sunning
themselves on a barren rock

I've spied the mermaids frolicking
in the waters off my dock

I've caught the mermaids' laughter
as it rolled around my ear

I've gazed at the mermaids' smile
and thought it oh so dear

I've looked upon the mermaids
as they dove into the sea

I've glimpsed the mermaids' beauty
and wished they dreamed with me

I've knelt and prayed to the mermaids
that I might join their game

I've heard the mermaids singing
I'll never be the same


*********************************************

A world turned upside down

The snow is very warm. The Sun sets in the east
Man is now captured, and enslaved by the beast
Each hand has six fingers. Each foot has four toes
We smell with our ears, and hear with our nose

The grass has turned blue, and the sky has turned green
Lean is now fat. Fat is now lean
Horses race people. What was certain is now maybe
A woman watches her husband bear their newborn baby

Before you could speak your mind. Now it isn't right
Nighttime has changed to morning. Sunrise has changed to night
Now we swim on highways, and we drive in pools
The ignorant have turned intelligent, and geniuses are fools

Cadavers rule the Earth. The living are now dead
We think with our hearts, and feel with our head
Smiles have turned ugly. Acceptance is a frown
Welcome to our time, a world turned upside down


**********************************************************

Poe

Once upon a night so dreary, as I tiptoed, rather weary,
around a pitch black graveyard where lost souls are encased in the floor
I searched diligently, in vain, in my greatest efforts, my pain,
for the name I hoped to gain, who had penned the verse I adore
Oh to see the one who had penned that morbid verse I now adore!

This was my goal, and nothing more


Ah, I well remember, it was in the bleak December
that I brought forth my shovel on this journey to explore
I simply had to question the being, which time had forbade me from seeing
I refused to think of fleeing till he'd returned from that other shore
It was my destiny to bring him over from that distant shore!

I wanted only this, and nothing more


Thus, I wandered from path to grave, and no light the hollow moon gave
to this expedition that had built inside, which finally did roar
The silence momentarily would die, as a nightingale's call echoed by
Heaven, oh heaven, hear this cry! Oh you who I implore!
Bring forth the tomb of my teacher! This to you I do implore!

Darkness reigned, and nothing more


But Lo! A single ray, from above then did play,
upon a barren spot which I had overlooked before
And so I gave chase, to the moonbeam that did race,
across my anguished face, to the spot on the earth's cold core
The spot where my teacher lay, in the earth's hard cold core!

Here I stood motionless, and said nothing more


And again came the celestial light, which then banished the brutal night
and produced that name chiseled in the headstone I mentioned afore
T'was the name that I did know, buried deep in his chamber below
Indeed! The letters read "POE," and I knew this was the door
Oh, I had no doubts that this was in fact the very door!

Of this I was certain, and nothing more


To the ground I dropped my spade, and a sickening sound it made
as I scraped the winter crust away from this lonely moor
In truth, my heart was beating, and those visions I was repeating
of perhaps me not completing such a scandalous chore
My mind had turned against me and this nighttime chore!

But I dug on, and nothing more


While I worked in my great haste, I admit a glance I'd waste
around this sacred manor where my efforts I did outpour
My eyes, on a poor level, many times did see a devil,
and I could no longer revel in my actions as I did before
No longer did I see things as I once saw them before!

Still I dug, and nothing more


As the coffin I then struck, through the worst of all the luck
sounded the town's clock, and it read three times four
Then came a graying fog, as thick as an oak's log,
and through the mist did jog a raven from the days of yore
A silken black raven from the saintly days of yore

He perched, and sat, and nothing more


"Messenger," said I "What have you brought, from thou unbridled lot
that will cause my orphaned questions to soar?
I will only be guessing, that your chant will be distressing,
thus further depressing as you sit above Poe's door
You must tell me why you now sit above Poe's door!"

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore"


"Foul riddle!" spoke I "Do you not see, all the pain and confusion
you have furthered for me?
No proper answer has been given from thy beak of ancient lore!
But wait! I will no longer ask, but instead complete the task
I shall break open the cask, and drink the knowledge from that other shore!
I shall now bring forth thy teacher from that cold and distant shore!"

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore"


And this was what I did, I pulled back the coffin's lid
Cracking the seal that had safely guarded Poe's door
From below then he did stare, with the blackest eyes did glare,
an ominous sight to share, as he whispered the name "Lenore"
Then he rose from up thy coffin, forever whispering "Lenore"

Said the raven: "Nevermore"


"Teacher!" I cried "Please, do speak! Translate the speech from the beak!
Make comprehensible the words of thy bird of yore!"
But no gesture had he gave, except pointing to his grave,
a distinct path he did pave, to his chamber, his darkened door
He intended for me to now occupy his empty and darkened door!

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore"


Gone is the thrill, only terror now does fill
my tormented mind as I lay in the casket on that cold dark floor
The knowledge is truly mine, but comprised of nothing divine,
as I am encircled by pine in a long oblong box within Poe's door
My soul now does lie in a long oblong box, buried within Poe's door

To be lifted-Nevermore!



All poems
by Vincent Spada






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