Christopher Holmberg
Christopher Holmberg Poems
For you.
With an eye for genuine wisdom,
I clutched your hand and lured you in.
...
I ride through my kingdom.
The spot i dub home.
It is to where i go,
my contrasting abode.
...
I am a man of few words,
though numerous thoughts may have just occured.
Obserd placid and wondrous thoughts,
addendums into my substantial pot
...
Why do we have a thing labeled age?
A number increased when we seemingly change.
The simple statistic runs our lifes more than most know,
Because most abide, like a law they follow.
...
Drift away, far away
through the thickest of forests
across a sea so open
imagine an enchanted island
...
In the dungeon,
time is not a factor.
It's limitless battle for straight ends.
A lab where chemicals reign.
...
I close my eyes,
there is nowhere to go,
nowhere to be..
but beside me in my dreams.
...
I miss your smile..
the sound of your voice..
it made my days and nights.
Something to look forward to-
...
The rain will fall a thousand times
to give us all some peace of mind.
Assurance that there's someone else
giving us hope without a doubt.
...
I love how you hang on,
control,
and absorb the genius.
It's truly your weakness,
...
The sky is a blanket,
keeping us warm, or cold
something controlled.
Penetrated by its razor arrows,
...
We walk the day out
of our mind it seems,
we project ourselfs as one,
continuing to ignore
...
I can imagine a day so pure and gay,
with nothing involved,
commitment resolved,
everything else is truth.
...
An innocent mind, taped from behind.
Can it rewind?
or is it just confined?
Denied of existance,
...
The open water is Gods playground,
to surround the eternal enchantment.
A free form of universal tricks begin,
set in stride is a damp case of skin.
...
A pedal falls..into the emptyness of a world full of power and material.
Blown away by his brother in crime, propelling further into the beautiful amazon of space.
Despite his need for life he continues to soar aimlessly on a path set by his carrier.
Each shift in motion, feeling ever so faint, he enters new boundries; new beginnings to an end he cannot predict.
...
Birds whistle,
but who and what are they whistleing for?
The grass continues to grow,
so why do we mow?
...
Christopher Holmberg Biography
Hey, my name is Chris Holmberg, im currently 20 years old, situated in a town 45 minutes outside of Vancouver BC Canada. I hope you enjoy my poetry. please provide some feedback :) ps i would just like to add: NONE of my poems are edited, simply written with pencil in a paper notepad and transfered to poemhunter.)
The Best Poem Of Christopher Holmberg
For You.
For you.
With an eye for genuine wisdom,
I clutched your hand and lured you in.
Across an enchanted forest with impassable fog,
I made out your face and it was honest beauty.
You hymned my name through the soft coiled mist,
I replied with what I thought a memorable kiss.
Covered with impeccable virtue and confident style,
I rose to my feet and stared for a time.
With shivers and shocks from your mesmerising debris,
I fell into a dream where I strolled on the sea.
But still I searched for your dear vacant soul,
To uncover and save it was my only ambition.
You laughed and cried and never whispered goodbye,
It was a staggering day though full of passionate sighs.
Yet still in my mind I pondered the heavenly,
Your elegant figure succumbed to my imaginable finger.
I noticed you in a dream last night bordering confession,
Our eyes sealed with an everlasting obsession.
I had you then but now I cease to ask for reality,
Was it I you adored, or the company we implored?
Copyright © ®2009, Chris Holmberg. All rights reserved
Christopher Holmberg Comments
Dear Christopher, I read your poems as suggested, and found you to be a soul in my own keeping. I am listening to the Who, Live at Leeds, and I hope you will forgive me, I think that our poetry is something that aligns us with the Truth. One of the great recordings of all time, I refuse to break this foundation-we forget how powerful the surges, the urges, make us vibrant with you. I am 58 years old, but whats in age? Poetry rekindles the message, how we are born beautiful. How we taste the impossible, dear friend. Poetry lives in our veins, we reckon such lovely sounds, and we pursue the unlikely.
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4/24/2024 6:06:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
dear christopher all you threads are nice.