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Marlin Nightingale Poems
The River Of Life
Yes the river, ever rushing, On it's boundaries always pushing, Leaping, scrambling, onward surging, Swiftly moving, onward lurching.
Tell Yourself You'Re Happy
Happiness is quite a thing, Can turn a pauper to a king, Makes poor in spirit chant and sing, Yet what true hope doth therein lie?
Those days when passion scaled the cliffs, And energy, like sun, Burst ready in the hero's chest; A life not lived, not done.
Soldier, here I stand and wonder, thinking of the distant thunder, Of the cannons that once shook the very dirt beneath your feet, Fire that split the sky above you, turning red what once had been blue, What a war you were thrust into! Not a moments peace to keep!
The sight of blood to some, I'm sure, Would easy make them faint, But when I see a pool of blood, It could as well be paint.
Those fitted jeans with price so high, Accentuate her figure, But then she'll pout and wonder why, They make her butt look bigger!
Here he walks with wistful wonder, Tuning out the crowd's coarse thunder, Knowing that a single blunder, Could forever change the game.
One night when I was walking home, Beneath the moonlit trees, The shadows danced their eerie dance, Behind the silent breeze,
The Weak And The Strong
The weak may die and the strong may stand, Yet I tell ye souls of this here land, That strong might stay; yes, he may avail, But here the weak are the favored still.
River Of Thought
The river of my thoughts may seem, A whirlpool of confusion, No answer will my poor brain deem, As quite the right solution.
Sleeplessness, I hear your tread, Harsh in the hallway and heavy as lead, Flee to the nether from which you came! Taking your anguished mental pain!
Summer Of Life
O thou Summer of my life! I wudst that thou return, With glowing fingers shield the knife, Of Winter's sombre after-life;
What Is Luck?
I ask for understanding. The sort that is not found, By simply graduating, A college of reknown.
Creeping in on cat feet, Came sleepiness to me, Passing close; it felt so sweet, It perched upon my knee.
The River Of Life
Yes the river, ever rushing,
On it's boundaries always pushing,
Leaping, scrambling, onward surging,
Swiftly moving, onward lurching.
Boulders, stones, it slaps, it pushes,
At some tree roots grabs-then rushes,
Moss and logs to join the fray,
Twisting, twirling on their way.
Calming eddies, raging rapids,
Temper showing; smooth and placid,
Cooling waters, seething spray,
Plumes that sparkle with the day.
Lifting hope to sun-parched land,
Giving beasts the strength to stand,
Giving life where death's firm grip,
Pulls the ...