Biography of Soren Valentine
I have written poetry for as long as I can remember. At first, poetry was just a hobby I suppose.It lacked real meaning to me until about five or six years ago. As one transitions from the innocent years of childhood to the anxiety-filled teenage years (and beyond) , I've found that one really needs an outlet, a way to express one's emotions. For me, poetry (as I often say) is therapeutic. It makes up a part of my being; it is one of my passions. Granted, I am no fabulous writer (indeed, far from it) but regardless of whether or not my poetry is 'good' I continue to write because others seem to enjoy it (they could, of course, be lying to me, in which case I would be greatly disappointed because I prefer a honest opinion) . My goal is to encourage my readers (naturally) but honestly, I have a more selfish goal: To save myself.
Enough of my ranting and digressions. Enjoy! I hope it isn't too bad. ;)
- October's Red Leaf
- Double-Edged Sword
- Autumn's Grief
- Light Show Over The Lake; Part II
- Is This Regret?
- Artlessly Deceptive
- Passively Tearing Me Asunder
- The Hearer Who Wasn't Heard
- Raining Moonlight
- Ode To The Hollow Bastion Within
- An Old Tree
- The Rush of A Lie
- A Second Salem
A single autumn leaf blows, leading me like a beatific fool upon the path of the Forgotten Ones.
I mutter prayers for eternal slumber as I mindlessly wander about the decaying road, led by this pale light.
I reach the Gate of Emptiness and Desertion, and as I pass through, a Forest of Fluorescent White Trees assaults me with painful memories of my thralldom unto the crestfallen spirit that has oft been led to misery.
I have been filled with nothingness; The Man That Never Was.