A Friend (The Valentine's Day Poem)

A friend to light a candle
When darkness overcomes.
A friend to hold you closer
When distant thunder drums.

A friend to gently tie you
When sirens sing your name.
A friend with words to soothe you
When life's a losing game.

A friend to cool your passions
When passions take their hold.
A friend to warm you gently
When a frozen heart's too cold.

A friend to spread contentment
As seasons wax and wane,
Make sense of love's confusion,
And bear life's grief and pain.

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poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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When Crystal Hearts Are Broken

When crystal hearts are broken
You cannot make repair.
The warmth and love you cherished
Turns then, to cold despair.

Its pieces of love shattered;
Though small, shall sparkle still.
So gather them as treasures
And keep them, if you will.

For crystal hearts when broken;
Though shattered and no more,
Are treasured for their beauty
Displayed to you before.

The pieces, just remember,
Though sometimes hid away;
Still sparkle like a treasure
When they're put on display.

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poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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Autumn Love

I met her in the autumn;
When such are found, you know.
She said, 'In all her glory.'
Though joking, oh how so!

So true, I did inform her.
But then, to no surprise.
Such things are never certain
In autumn's paradise.

An autumn love, so firmly,
May grasp a loving heart;
It still may seem together,
Though broken from the start.

Through autumn, when it found me.
Through winter's frozen years.
Such love alive in springtime,
Brings forth a rain of tears.

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poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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Young William And Young April

Young William and young April
Met in the park one day.
Young William said to April,
'Why did you come this way? '

Young April said to William,
'I thought I might see you.'
Young William, then to April,
'It's funny, what you do.'

Young April gave to William
A sweet, young childhood kiss.
Young William said to April,
'Don't bother me like this.'

Young April stood in silence,
Not knowing what to do.
Then young William turned away.
Young April, torn in two.

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poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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November Love (My First Poem) (Two Versions)

Below, you will see two versions of my very first poem.
Its important to understand that the first version of the poem
is exactly as I wrote it at 6: 15 to 6: 30 PM on November 2nd
1970. I made no changes to it. It is also important to know
that this was, in fact, my first ever attempt to write a poem
of any kind whatsoever. The second version is modified from
the first because I wanted to demonstrate how a few simple
word changes can convert a rather average poem of some
quality into a poem of great quality and structure.

In early November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
But rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
For it's not true love that blooms in spring
Nor is it of love that birds do sing.
Rather of that love soon gone
And never seems to carry on.

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poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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