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Steffan Voss Poem
I have wasted
too many years
of my young life
wishing I had been
blessed with
a different story.
I am learning
that all life
is precious,
and that each soul
that walks this earth,
is a mere breath,
a simple expression,
of the interwoven
fabric of our universe.
We are each
a ripple in time,
and our aura
radiates energy
that travels faster
than the speed of light.
We are divine beings.
When we possess
this knowledge,
we breach
the edge of certainty,
and begin to understand
that we hold the key
to our everlasting divinity.
Copyright © Steffan Voss | Year Posted 2017
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Steffan Voss Poem
I know it will be quiet when you come:
No wind; the water breathing steadily;
A light like ghost of silver on the sea;
And the surf dreamily fingering his drum.
Twilight will drift in large and leave me numb
With nearness to the last tranquility;
And then the slow and languorous tyranny
Of orange moon, pale night, and cricket hum.
And suddenly there will be twist of tide,
A rustling as of thin silk on the sand,
The tremor of a presence at my side,
The tremble of a hand upon my hand:
And pulses sharp with pain, and fires fanned,
And words that stumble into stars and hide.
Copyright © Steffan Voss | Year Posted 2017
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Steffan Voss Poem
You have the prettiest eyes and I'm sorry I made them cry
You always tell me about the story of your childhood,
why you have crooked teeth,
but for me I saw how beautiful that smile was
and I'm sorry if I'm the reason why it fade and turn into frown.
I know you don't like your body but it doesn't matter to me
I saw how beautiful you are when you talk about your passion, your dreams and your goals
I'm sorry if you feel bad about yourself again
You have the biggest heart, it's pure and fragile
And I know it would be an understatement to say sorry for breaking it
As some people are better off as friends before turning into lovers.
Copyright © Steffan Voss | Year Posted 2017
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Steffan Voss Poem
The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;
For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth ebb,
Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web.
But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turn to rain of late repent by changed course of winds.
The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be,
And fruitless all their grafted guile, as shortly ye shall see.
The dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,
Shall be unsealed by worthy wights whose foresight falsehood finds.
The daughter of debate that discord aye doth sow
Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath taught to know.
No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port;
Our realm brooks not seditious sects, let them elsewhere resort.
My rusty sword through rest shall first his edge employ
To poll their tops that seek such change or gape for future joy.
Copyright © Steffan Voss | Year Posted 2017
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