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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.
Stood there beneath the ominous cloud, Of selfish thoughts, like swords, They kept their place standing face to face, And drew their sharpest words.
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.
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.
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!
It was no jest when at Her behest, The monsters had their ball. No storm could scare such a bald-faced terror, Into those prison halls.
One night when I was walking home, Beneath the moonlit trees, The shadows danced their eerie dance, Behind the silent breeze,
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.
O Thou Lion!
O thou lion crouching still, Raging fire could ne'er infill Fear in hearts: as can thy eyes, Fearless, somber, undisguised!
In the heart of a forest, In the solitude so clear, You may find a tinkling brooklet, And a songbird nestled near.
I saw a solemn oak tree, It's spreading leafy arms, The light that filters through, i see, Is glowing green and warm.
The Mirage of Romance
As water dancing in the sun across a crystal lake, Doth seem by shore a fairy fire to hoist and fall and break, Upon the waves, a blanket swept with giddy, winking shapes.
(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)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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 ...