I love poetry and any creative expression,
I'm firm believing in importance of belife,
and devote my whole to that of truth more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Edward Webb Poems
The Owls Wisdom
The famous sound that comes in summer, the chorus that comes with each morn,
Temperate natures can give unto the tempest of day. A gentle breeze upon thy face, Interwinds with gentle rustles
Past, Present, Future
Life, lived; not by the, present, contained within the Now, so thinking of a recollect - of what your mind will allow means present becomes, neglect - and past, does future infect,
A Little Bird Told Me...........
I spoke to a little bird today, it landed beside and this be what I Say; Do you know that your a robin good sir? famous to our eye.
Justice to the Unjust
justice: as word, read by perpetrators eyes, is cruel as meaning is defined, consequences drawn on them caught, soon shroud actions in, murderous blame,
The Knowing After, The Final Breath
When light ebbs away from a livings eyes, and livings age, pays its wage, so the body to soul no longer does engage.
the Brain, in stature, within; nature sits, unique in self-aware, within; a creature,
The Sound of Heaven
A steepled church hides the Bell, that silent, stood prepared,
GOD; is such a big word, although; it be three letters,
The sun sets its cycle., a misguides perception, There is no true edge, For is there really a morning? and What is a night I; pledge!
Sometimes the gold complexion of heaven is dimmed, by grey mass in whipped wind can give rise to a storm laced with electrical suspension
Mirrors: are reflective to an image for the eye, mirroring the seen, but mirrors reflect also a lie. Mirrors, only show what a mind holds inside, So make the reflected truths, turned lies reversed in mind
Unfurled from a construct of a human reality, A reality filled with minds collect in electrical lanes, not synaptic of thought, until bought from a store by a searched endeavour,
We write lifes story, from the fossils of death. Yet what about the creatures of past, no fossil left
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
The Owls Wisdom
The famous sound that comes in summer,
the chorus that comes with each morn,
not where your hear this calling, welcoming the stars in all nights form,
a bird though it is, owns a call that is loudest heard,
for no other song by beak is sung as is this raptorial birds,
so unchallenged the hooting and twooing are eerily in dark heard,
of the stealth winged owl calling,
not shown to our eyes but by ears heard,
a song not for days calling,
but solo sung to the even black,
draped in the silver shimmers of night,
from oaks confidently...