Biography of Rachel Henley
Rachel Henley Poems
All My Woe
I ask of you something dear. Something heartfelt and somewhat sincere. Hold the one you love, Closer now, and ever so near.
A Violent Flourish Of Love
A violent flourish of love, rushing and bursting, in veins and arteries. Breathing life into old aching bones. Pumping muscles with a fast paced rhythm.
Basking In Solitude
There are no thoughts I share, My woes that are entirely my own. I suffer from loneliness, and it shakes me to the bone.
This Heart Knows Pain
this heart knows pain, as frequent as rain, and harsh as snow, wherever, whatever the weather,
Your name is lost on my lips. Thoughts of you, written from my finger tips. Your existence seems to be nothing to me. To those who know me well.
Let me slide my fingers, in between the gaps of yours. Clutch your hand as if we're about to do a leap of faith. A risk that only two inseparable lovers would take. We do not know where this fall will take us.
Lack Of Emotion
Write me a poem my love, Dedicate the words to me, Look me in the eyes and recite it. And I will give all my love to thee.
A Sailors Love
Merchant ships come to the shore, Sailors love and leave for the sea, It does not matter where we make port, only where, we call home.
The Things That Make Me Miss You
I miss your footsteps in the hallway. Arriving home from work at 6, always. You would always forget to wipe your feet. Leaving a trail of dirty footprints for me.
The Burden Of Myself
I can only offer you a poets passion. In the most dignified fashion. Creative torment and lack of understanding from anyone. Are two frequent attributes of mine.
We exchange glances, like cars on the motorway, a smirk here, a giggle there, the brief eye contact,
More Beautiful Yesterday
Where does love go? Does it leave the soul and the mind? Oh, tell me where my parents keep it! How can you make it last for all time?
This Place, My Train
If I do not board this train now, I am afraid I never will. This place is beautiful, this place is all I ever wanted,
Find in my words a friend for yourself. In times or triumph or dispair, your friend will always be here, with only the words to care,
I miss the way your fingers tangled with the grass.
The patches of dirt on your pale soft knees.
How you felt as one,
with the birds and the trees.
You muttered that I spent too much time,
working for money that would never be mine.
Cities will swallow up your soul.
We are digging for nonexistent gold.