A Thought Within a Heart
I held her in my heart with great affection
To my thoughts she claimed so much
Would I call this love, I am unable to answer
But it began the start of a dreamless romance
That I would never come to witness
I am unable to understand the workings of love
How the heart picks at random its choices
I only accept the madness of such affection
The call of such passion that echoes
From the heart and to the mind it flows
The words and thoughts of what we name love
Or infatuation or desire it is all unclear
But one thing is guaranteed ever present
That in our own presence is a being of such beauty
One who makes us question everything
One who makes us dream of such passion
And here in the sway of a hearts singing
The mind and soul become lost undone
In the loving of a new loves beginning
Or the continuation of something well known
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poem by Matthew Holloway
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Me and my heart in all its futility
Me and my heart in all its futility
~
I’ve given my heart so freely in the past
As though my thoughts raced ahead of my words
I’ve waited for a chance, an opportunity
I’ve even waited for the answer that did not come
Those silences in which I knew already
But kept trying to convince myself otherwise
Those dreams I held onto were so beautiful
Like a drug they deluded me for a while
Until the come down and realisation
I fought and still fight the pain filled resentment
I do not wish to become bitter filled
Asking those pointless questions over and over
Knowing I will never accept the answer
I try and feed my ego to believe its not me
That they are the ones who have lost in love
They will miss my romantic passions
My loyalty, the kindness I would have offered
Maybe I am not rich enough, what is wealth
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poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Walk Within A Dream
I saw a building old as days
With countless rooms laid within
Walls with cracks and ivy rose
From the earth before me
Slowly I entered that place
Air ran heavy, thick to my lungs
With each taken step
I walked the rooms and halls
Some bare stripped of life
Others as though never touched
Some like a memory kept
Where instruments of music
Lay dust covered, silent
Still brought a song to thought
I saw paintings and pictures
Rich in a veil of colour
Like all the seasons held at once
A beauty found, celebrated
Then a sadness felt
In the shadowed halls
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poem by Matthew Holloway
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