T.S. Wilkins

T.S. Wilkins Poems

What sorrow struck the willow tree?
Is it the same that's stricken me
Where in my soul, I once was free...
And now it claims the best of me?
...

At this very moment…

Beneath my low and calmly voice—
Beneath the smoothness of my skin
...

My soul…..

A crystal piece of glistening glass
So useless now it seems,
...

They say I am the dark horse
That is destined till my end
To gallop like the broken soul
In the shadows of the wind
...

My mind is like the drifting ship
That knows not where to sail.
It lingers in such wretched water;
In midnight fog,
...

I watch how society watches him—
This being on display
Society—The audience of selfish thinking
For sorrow’s great taunting play.
...

T.S. Wilkins Biography

This is not my biography, but rather a short heartfelt message. I am T.S. Wilkins, a simple inspirational poet. Poetry is something I have always felt and known. I write it because it is who I am. There is nothing complicated about my words, nothing fancy. I am not a great poet, and I may never be a part of that ranking; however, poetry will always have a voice within my soul, and I will always hear it. I don't always know where I am going on this path, and there are times I travel it silently, but it is a path I cannot walk away from. It is the journey of a lifetime. God bless! ! www.abstract-soul.com)

The Best Poem Of T.S. Wilkins

I'Ll Have My Dream

What sorrow struck the willow tree?
Is it the same that's stricken me
Where in my soul, I once was free...
And now it claims the best of me?

What joy and peace have I to keep
When low I am, and long I weep
A soul that cannot rest to sleep,
While pain and hurt lie still too deep.

Dark vultures soar in skies so cold
To watch what little life I hold,
With eyes so bleak but yet so bold
Upon the branches of my soul

They wait for me to fade away
To have no colors of blissful days
And to my soul, they fiercely say
'There is no color in what is gray.'

What more has life to me to bring
I have not felt or have not seen
Can it not grant me
A simple dream....
Upon my branches,
A bird to sing?

Oh sorrow that struck the willow tree
Are you the same that's stricken me
Where in my soul, I once was free...
You think you've claimed the best of me?

Do not predict that I may feel
I've lost the war, thus lost my will
For upon my branches,
A bird will sing
And I'll have my song;
I'll have my dream.

~T.S. Wilkins~

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