The Cup of Tears

Drink not to deepen dreams,

 But rather wash away- 

Those drunken maddening screams

 Force my hands to obey, 

Oh wicked, wicked hands- 

They owner thou doth betray; 

In strange and twisted lands 

The sun stands on its head 

Alone, in desolate sands 

The world a blackened, bloody red 

Watching from some distant height 

As heaven halted in her fears 

Alas, I have drunk from the cup of tears

One Day

One day I will live in a house with a writers view.

 I will have a desk by the window, and out the window I will see the ocean breaking on a white sand beach. When the tide is low I will be able to see clear rock pools and my row-boat beached on the sand. 

When the tide is high I will see the waves breaking on the shore and the lonely footprints disappearing into the sea.

 I will hear the waves crashing in the night and the howl of the salty wind in a storm; I will see an angry sea illuminated by lightening across the pulsing sky, and when the night calms and I watch the sun rise over the water, I will see my inspiration.

 This is my writer’s dream, where I can breathe the salt air, listen to the waves and see the raw beauty of nature. Where my words will flow as naturally as the sun rises and my joy will be unmatched. Peace, tranquility and companionship. 

 One day, I will find that house on the edge of the sea.