Poems & Verse

from the soul.

[odepoed]

What intervals men have become, living without seeing the stars, for they shine only in hindsight. Where some see but a blank canvas, and others fail to look at the sky.

The world is a symphony of melodies, raging with passion and serenity. What pleasure it is to be in this land— to hear it speak with such intensity, much like a man to his lover's call.

— Joanna

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[odepoed]

Headlines change, war, crime, death, and pain

Morbid with glory each day a new story Call it a suffering mass in life's damning wrath Can man truly heal if the world is so cruel?

— Joanna

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[odepoed]

A gust of wind, takes my breath In wavering shades of green

Foliage crashes in the heat In rhymes of muted leaves The balmy day starts to shy From golden rays to misty skies Clouds hang full of sullen tides And drop by drop, they begin to sigh

— Joanna

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[odepoed]

His eyes are the ocean a melting pot of blue and green I dream to float in every ripple even though I hate the sea

— Joanna

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[odepoed]

Is ignorance really bliss; the thing that saves you from the abyss? Or is seeking for truth the gun that brings your mind to one?

I saw a sign painted red and wondered what it meant. My eyes glazed over through and through - with a breath I drew them to a nearby paddock and watched the soft grass rock. The blades were just like little kids tickling, playing games of tips. Their laughter rolled in to the air; hush, the wind blew them to my hair. I watched their joy with much content till a smile came with such intent. I cared not for the passing time, and most of all, I forgot the sign.

— Joanna

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[odepoed]

I see amongst the treetops a place that's far from mine, I can't grasp their soaring heights this freedom's not my kind. To wonder what the birds see, to feel the winds surround, a vision I cannot perceive for I am near the ground.

The plight of wings at dawn each day, a sense of where to go, no notion of the world's decay until they are all alone Their home stands tall, the leaves grow gold for men have not caught on but when they do, their friends go cold and branches turn forlorn.

— Joanna ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[odepoed]

It smells like Spring a tickle of meadow, where floral notes sing and Winter’s a shadow

The grass looks hazy of blooming stars - hosting young daisies that reach so far

Buzzing in time to soak up the earth  who looks most divine in this land of birth

Oh season of life come through the door, how will I suffice  when you are no more?

— Joanna