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Samuel Flockhart Poems
If you had one hour left to live, If one hour was all you had left to give, Would you waste it all trembling in fear? Dreading the darkness looming near?
The Weed Beneath The Stone
There must be something wrong with me For every girl I know Must see something which I can't see Affection they dare not show
I Can Hear Her..
I can hear her laughing, as she stumbles in from the night I can hear him touching her, eager to turn off the light Lying awake, the silence is pain My thoughts are torture, my mind's gone insane
If I Die Before I Wake
To? ? ? ? If only you saw yourself through my eyes My best friend was a Goddess
The Ship is Sinking
Song of the Soul
Imprisoned by blood and flesh and bone Prayer for the Wild, denied to roam For how can one be warm alone? Heart of fire, now turned to stone.
I Hate Myself
How can one be warm alone? Heart of Fire, turned to stone The song is unsung, And the dream is undone
Beneath darkened skies the daylight is dying In the wide waste there is still a tree And a man from the branches is hanging Thirty silver pieces he was given for Thee
Comments about Samuel Flockhart
(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)
If you had one hour left to live,
If one hour was all you had left to give,
Would you waste it all trembling in fear?
Dreading the darkness looming near?
You who struggled through it all
You who stands fast, whilst others fall
You who has suffered from start until end
Is this how you want to be remembered my friend?
You who wouldn't be broken by storm or by rain
I was with you when you faltered
I witnessed your pain
By your side we crawled through the ice and the mud
As one, we fought through the fire and the blood
If this is our last ...