Greet the Morning With a Smile

Have you ever welcomed the day
With joy in any way
Have you ever awoke with a smile?
If not I ask why?
I think you should try
It may even be worth your while
The day won’t attack
Heck, it may smile back
And wink with a glint in its eyes.
Soon you will see
How happy you’ll be
Much to your own surprise.
Smile at night too
And he’ll smile through
Despite the fear lurking around.
Because without night
There would be no light
For you to ever be found.
-©2012 Alex Hicks

Tales of Battles Won

Ok, so I was up a 3:00am today. I feel like crap and I am at work while I wait for heavy rain to start. Day’s not looking great right now, but still I write poems. This is actually a pretty happy one despite it being a bad day.

My sword is long and narrow,
And its tip drips black as night,
Blood of those it’s slain,
In the life-long fire fight.

As I fight this battle,
And every one to come,
My sword will dance with beauty,
Deterred by nothing won.

My sword will move with grace,
Lithe and free from bars,
To dance across the medium,
Leaving trails in the stars.

Forever it will dance,
Each day and every night,
Leaving heroes in its wake,
With each tale that I write.

My sword will stop in time,
Upon the day I give to age,
For until then I shall write,
As my sword dances on the page.


Live Life

So I’m not busy at work right now and I feel like writing some poetry.

As I sit here,
Early day,
I start to ponder,
Thoughts to weigh.

About how much time,
I have wasted,
Wasting life,
Forgetting faces.

It makes me think,
Of younger days,
And all the memories,
I couldn’t save.

Which then in turn,
Leads me to mind,
The friends of now,
And have yet to find.

My friends right now,
What few I hold,
Are more important,
Than all the gold.

Because of this I must admit,
The memories I left caving,
Were not the ones,
That were worth saving.

The memories I have now,
Are the ones I want to hold,
And cherish them always,
Until I grow old.

But the problem is,
They’re unaware,
How important they are,
And how much I care.

So my advice,
To the younger age,
As you grow,
Turn the page.

Leave the bad,
In the past,
The good will stay,
They’re here to last.

And don’t be sad,
When life isn’t great,
It’s trying to fool you,
You’re taking the bait.

Because the enigma of life,
Is full of trials and tests,
All with the goal,
Of you to best.

You can’t give up,
And never give in,
Else turn from a have,
Into a has been.


My Pen

By: A.H.

I wrote this poem in the middle of the night. I was laying in bed thinking like I often do and this poem started to read itself to me. Least to say I immediately picked up my notebook and started to type.

My Pen

By: A.H.

If asked when young which I thought better,
The inked tip of my pen
or honed blade of my sword
Without thinking twice I’d have replied:

“My sword can cut all who stand in my way
but my pen can express my feelings.
If I had to choose which one to take,
Sword in hand, I’d leave them bleeding.”

But as I look at that younger self,
And the meaning of the phrase,
I wish I had been there to help,
To show him the better way.

The sword is strong in its own way,
But the pen holds all the aces,
For while a sword can cut your foes,
The pen will take you places.

If I had met my younger self,
I’d have set him true,
That writing, knowledge, and emotion,
Are things a sword can never do.

And if he still took the sword,
I’d slip the pen in his back pocket,
As he would grow up into I,
and I would want it sooner.