Posting your poems.

I did some gardening and wrote this. "This Poem has Nothing to do With Flowers" I watched two flowers in a vase Bright and fragrant in so many ways Green and new, a stem built for two Two blooming flowers in a vase on my counter I watched them every day Filling my senses as I walk away Tending to them, changing water Walking by and enjoying flowers Day in day out I watch away My heart sinks as colors fade I want to try to keep them alive But I just don't know what to do In confusion Flowers die without roots Anxiety to act I've been a fool Sadness and regret Flowers only grow, Outside on their own Futility lives inside Withering away No matter how I tend to them No matter what I do All flowers die Only faster inside Outside is where they truly bloom

Also I have a "habit" of "distributing" poems so if anyone from Portland actually reads this be on the lookout for oddly placed poems.

Wrote this one on a Halloween     Lord of the Wraiths   The emperor of endless night, in the castle of grinning bones, Rested on his throne of dread, smiling at man's tormented groans. Within those haunted halls of death The echoes of unutterable woe welled up from the cursed souls twisted wraiths that darkness show   Raising up the gnarled scythe, He summoned deathless minions forth. Skeletal figures marched in row, and clattered out towards the north.   Tattered rags danced in the wind, rusted weapons gripped in hand, with mirthless smiles on skinless skulls, they splattered gore across the land.    A shadow lay over the earth all people cowered in craven fear bone white and blood red came the dead with no remorse they slew men here   Tiring of senseless massacre the immortal king of rotting meat released his faithful corpse army and watched the world beneath his feet...  

And just for shits and giggles here's another. The Stranger I looked into the mirror, And saw a stranger there A man I did not recognize With strange features and hair. I frowned at the weird specter, And found he did the same. Mimicking my every motion Within that wooden frame. The guy, who I had never known Appeared to be myself But I had never saw those eyes That mutely call for help. I looked at hands which strangely, did not belong to me. Who was this person, in my clothes, Whose was this odd body? I was the dark haired person, And yet was not at all. I did not belong inside here, Caught in this fleshy wall. I feel like I’m inside a dream Reality put on hold But this is real, I know for sure Truth is both harsh and cold. What am I? scream I with his mouth, But getting no reply What truth is there I need to find Please tell me, what am I? Awhile I stood there gazing Asking the mirror why I feel as if I have no soul And always, what am I?

Your poem the stranger is a good read ehy, it's similar to a poem I wrote called hello again mirror. An Michealw your poem is pretty enjoyable as well.

If I could ever die Could sunlight ever beautifully greets my eyes It is scary the sight of death takes away my last breath I wish I could stay But this light makes fadeaway I want to Cry as I witness how lovely that sunrise is