Guide When love and hate collide - Poems from the heart

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love & hate collide by Faith of VIII ft joanne

I am always wondering what you see So I quietly conceal the dark inside of me Sins and scars you'll never recognize 'Cause I am the master of maintaining my disguise. I think you're overthinking about underachieving And so you're sinking right down through the floor The demons, they've been creeping in your head while sleeping They're always keeping you from feeling more like yourself.

Poet's Notes about The Poem

She saw it everywhere, in everything, the rhyme, the rhythm And she pulled it from the air and made it clear Like the bones and stones she found, shaped into a point and purpose And her pen the arrow, her hand the bow. She said, make sure you're looking where you step. You've a tendency not to notice There's an arrowhead underneath each of our noses If we get out of our own head and look around.

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We just might see the trees like she did. Her father's heart and might in the forest And they spoke to her like a daughter, so she planted more. The world's meant for our eyes And our eyes are meant for wonder To see it in all, the rhyme, the rhythm Ready to write are we, the poet. The wind like my mother she called my name A whisper heard over the cars the cries and the clamor The lake like a mirror it looked back at me Reflecting no fear, no fault, finding not one, a single scratch.

The mounts like my father they guarded the ground A shadow cast over the town, it's streets, and it's people The trees they swayed in the wind that spoke I joined in their dance to the song that echoed off the mountainside. This must be where God comes to rest. I was a feather. Making a living has a way of killing men The lungs keep breathing but the soul suffocates within There is nothing new under the sun, it's all the same We need revival 'cause survivals a losing game. Am I fighting the good fight, am I on the run? Am I chasing vanity, or doing what needs to be done?

When Love & Hate Collide

A man must always have something to conquer, a woman to fight for, a war to be waged. We are born for the storm. Risk all and rebel, to live hard and die well is why we were made.

I've seen an evil that overcomes us all The backs of good and wicked men are both against the wall What then shall we do when we are destined for the dust? We'll dig our feet into the earth and roll them sleeves up. No matter our station, wages, or trade, Our labor is loving. It's a worth way to spend all our days. Stay here in the shade, in this world we made Don't stray out from the canopy, safe 'neath the willow tree Whether or not there'll be warmer weather, there's just enough sun to see you're the light over me So take my had and pave the way, I'll love you night and day.

Be the ground underneath my feet, I'll walk with no need to worry Consume the stream rushing round my knees, I'll wade with you 'til the morning Be in the wind I hear whispering, I'll carry you when you're weary Below the willow will I be, come live with me beneath the tree. Walk with me into the rain, distract the world away I"ll fall for you, I'll follow you, unfaltering all the way Whether or not all this weather leaves soon, you and I left here long ago, dry under the leaves of the willow Locked away far from the rain, we wander through our domain.

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  • The trees with their branches reach for something higher The tips of my fingers always think there's something better, something more, something worth longing for. The stars mark the sky and separate the seasons The day brings a greater light to set apart the mornings from the night, back and forth they fight. Caught up in the wonder of one day being better When my deepest darkest blue and the gold that paints your sky collide.

    It's a trap, Poetry and Mines of technology all the way!

    What if we could take a taste of the maybe, beyond what's been known and been named? Bittersweet, we're blooming forth from the envy There's freedom in the wisdom, but from the bite Eve lost her Eden. There was blood in the air I was on all fours, screaming life isn't fair Break down these walls As their marksmen hit their marks And their cloaks of justice are only cloaks after all.

    ISBN mm x mm. He writes of family matters with humour, irony and delicacy. He is always original, sweetly relishing the world , its absurdities and its richness. A poet of the people, never pretentious or obscure, he has a clear voice which goes straight to the heart of the matter. David Gilbey's poetry mines a rich seam of wit—something increasingly rare in Australian verse.

    His works are postcards from a glittering tourist destination in the mind, and they record the lively contradictions of art and desire, the shock of the familiar within the exotic. As an academic, reviewer and organiser, David Gilbey has been involved with Australian poetry for more than a couple of decades.

    When love and hate collide

    He was a founder of Wagga Wagga Writers Writers, has been extensively involved with the life of his provincial city and has also travelled widely, particularly in Japan where he has also taught. Death and the Motorway is his first complete collection as a poet. The book's subject matter ranges widely, from the sexual and domestic through to art, music, literature and travel. Like not a few other writers, Gilbey has used poetry to record and intensify key moments in his life as well as to elaborate his intuitions of it. Some of the poems are baldly autobiographical.

    A few, e.

    LOVE AND HATE COLLIDE - The Agony of Love - Love Hurts Poems

    Many more embody Gilbey's often ironic thoughts as he travels in places as diverse as Wales, Ireland, London, Paris, China even Canberra. As Kate Llewellyn says on the book's back cover, Gilbey is a "poet of the people, never pretentious or obscure". More often however, as with his poem, "Phil", about an eponymous and schizophrenic brother, Gilbey is able to let plain detail do its work and so come up with a moving poem.

    Robert Lowell set the standard for this kind of writing fifty years ago in Life Studies — and it's not nearly as easy as it may seem. In a few other poems such as "L. Law" and "Wollundry Lagoon " Gilbey can also reveal himself as something of a political poet.