Ive spoken about this before on my previous website, and yet, after all these years, I still love these poems.
These are all copywrite to 'The Book of Counted Sorrows' and Dean Koontz.
I'll post a few of my favourites here, but for the full list of all them, go here
from Darkfall - 1984
We can embrace love; its not too late.
Why do we sleep, instead with hate?
Belief requires no suspension
to see that Hell is our invention.
We make Hell real; we stoke its fires.
And in its flames our hope expires.
Heaven, too, is merely our creation.
We can grant ourselves our own salvation.
All that's required is imagination.
from Twilight Eyes - 1985
Something moves within the night
that is not good and is not right.
from Strangers - 1986
Is there some meaning to this life?
What purpose lies behind the strife?
Whence do we come, where are we bound?
These cold questions echo and resound
through each day, each lonely night.
We long to find the splendid light
that will cast a revelatory beam
upon the meaning of the human dream.
from Cold Fire - 1991
In the real world
as in dreams,
nothing is quite
as it seems.
from Dark Rivers of the Heart - 1994
All of us are travelers lost,
out tickets arranged at cost
unknown but beyond our means.
This odd itinerary of scenes
- enigmatic, strange, unreal -
leaves us unsure how to feel.
No postmortem journey is rife
with more mystery than life.
On the road that I taken,
one day, walking, I awaken,
amazed to see where I have come,
where I'm going, where I'm from.
This is not the path I thought.
This is not the place I sought.
This is not the dream I bought,
just a fever of fate I've caught.
I'll change highways in a while,
at the crossroads, one more mile.
My path is lit by my own fire.
I'm going only where I desire.
On the road that I have taken,
one day, walking, I awaken.
One Day, walking, I awaken,
on the road that I have taken.
from Sole Survivor - 1997
The sky is deep, the sky is dark,
The light of stars is so damn stark.
When I look up, I fill with fear.
If all we have is what lies here,
this lonely world, this troubled place,
then cold dead stars and empty space . . .
Well, I see no reason to persevere,
no reason to laugh or shed a tear,
no reason to sleep or ever to wake,
no promises to keep, and none to make.
And so at night I still raise my eyes
to study the clear but mysterious skies --
that arch above us, as cold as stone.
Are you there, God? Are we alone?
If you like these, let me know which are your favourites.