Into the Willows: A Collection of Poems by Devin Burke
By Devin Burke
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About this ebook
Devin Burke
Devin is a college student living in the Midwest. Poetry has been his passion since a young age and developed over his childhood. He is inspired by people and things around him. He never wrote with the intention of others reading it, but by writing poetry he inspired himself. Writing is his escape, a way out of normal life into the words he produces. From his favorite author Nicolas Spark’s the Notebook, “Poetry wasn’t written to be analyzed; it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without nderstanding.”
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Into the Willows - Devin Burke
© 2013 by Devin Burke. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 02/07/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4772-8369-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4772-8371-4 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012920004
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Special Thanks
Poe’s Perfect Raven
3 Parts of Green Grass
Four Colors of Fire
A Devils Look
A Great Trickster
Two Parts to a Heart
Just a Myth
Depth of a Poem
A Poem of Time
An Abstract Art
Aching While the Wind Whispers
After the World Ended
Angels Creed
Sand Filled Tear
Beginning to End
Bleeding Through
Carved in Stone
Cold of You
Darkest Color
Day and Night
Dear Heart
Desolate Window
Dream of a Dream
Dream within a Man
A Different World
Everlasting Dark
Falling Darkness
Forever in Ashes
Grace of Words
Hope of Men
House with the Black Door
If You Were
Key to Life
Leader of Flesh
Life
Life of a Tear
Little Red Ball
Lucifer
Man’s Destruction
Maybe
Memorizing
Mind of a Dream
Missing piece
A Mothers Grace
A Mouse and a Crow
Music of the Heart
My Dark Place
My Grey Sky
My Guitar
My Story
Not a Day
Purgatory
One Day
One Day a Raven sat on a Hill
Our Day
Puppeteer
Raven for Love
Room of Secrets
Sad Day Good
Seasons
Shadow in a Painting
Shall be Lost Shall be Found
She Again
Single Kiss
Single Moment
Sky of Red
Something to Live For
Story of a Man
Stupid Little Boy
Surprised
The Castle Beneath the Snow
The Castle on the Other Side
The Darkest Room
The Dreamer
The Dusk that Beloved the Mourn
The Dying sun
The Legacy of You
The Light in my Dark
Fifteen Years
The Nazi’s March
The Old Tinker
The One
The Path with no End
The Red Man
The Soul of my Shoe
The White Tree
The World Bleeds
Twisted Relations
Under a Tree
Untouched
Valentine’s Day
Waiting
We Ended
When I Look at Your Eyes
When the Dusk met the Dawn
When the Night Truly Ends
Whisper in My Ear
Why the Light
Why the Sky
Wishing Star
Wise Old Man
Cold December Day
Before the Wise Man
Defying Death
Fear Me
The Universe with Just one Star
I’ll be your slave
The Widow’s Tomb
The Woodchips
The Neverless Vision
The River of Snow
The Oldest Sorrow
Magician of Souls
Rose of the Old
Silhouette
Never Knowing Hope
Past’s Treasure Chest
?
33906.jpgSpecial Thanks
33912.pngI would like to give a special thanks to Mary Bowman-Cline for the wonderful paintings she provided for this book. She is an amazing artist and a fantastic aunt. You have been there for me to watch me grow, and you have shared in another part of my life, my poetry.
Dedicated to my loving, caring, and supportive Mother, Debra. You are my rock, guide, and hero. Forever will I love you. And to my older brother Kyle. You will forever be missed.
Poetry wasn’t written to be analyzed; it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without understanding.
Poe’s Perfect Raven
33917.pngWith the night the wind blew, across the timid wet dew,
And the trees that knew, would never say,
Darkness becomes one with night, and with the moon of white,
And the trees of mighty height, and the dark drifts away,
The trees stopped blowing, and again the dark drifts away-
But the raven just sat there, with nothing more to say.
As I walk along I count the trees, as if there all a ring of keys,
All leading to a different door all leading away,
All with something new behind, something new to find,
But when opened I am blind, to the bird that lay,
And I watch the branch where the bird did lay,
But the raven just sat there, with nothing more to say.
Instead I walk past, knowing the stare won’t last,
I walk fast as its eyes upon me sway,
Looking me up and down, looking at me with his devilish frown,
With teeth so brown, looking at the moon I pray,
And the trees stop blowing as if he can hear me pray,
But the raven just sat there, with nothing more to say.
All my years I’ve tried to be perfect, and all my fears,
Have all come true, in an imperfect way,
But I’ve come to see, there may not be, a perfect me,
And I’ve always wondered how to be, and I just have may,
Once found how, but I shall eventually may,
And I realize nobody will ever say.
People hide in their rooms, engraving themselves in imminent tombs,
They hide their secret of perfection, hide it away,
They hide in a place, where they think they’ll find grace,
But they show in their face, they show how grey,
There no