William Sinclair Manson's poetry

Manchester we cry for you we mourn your terrible loss no reason why you died it's  no wonder you are cross. Children as young as eight lost their lives that night it's  hard to imagine this is real we know it is not right. Mothers, sisters fathers and sons struck on that fateful day The families mourn their loss as everyone kneels to pray. Senseless murder of human beings by a faction with evil intent. the horror they cause is nothing short of ending lives unspent. We know you all will carry on and will not let the terrorists win the treacherous bomber will go to hell and suffer for his sin. The people who lost their lives will always be on our mind the fathers and the mothers the innocent and kind. We hope you are now happy in a paradise we know is real a place where you will be appreciated to love and openly feel. Manchester we are with you as you go about your day terrorism will never beat you as in our hearts you will sta...

You search till there isn't any places look around at expressionless faces look to man for his own disgraces naked women , only covered in laces. Children s laughter is filling the air when your older, nothing is fair keeping youthful without a tear trying out your past, but nothing is there. Knock at the door and you will find people who are meek, loving, and kind no enemy to beat, dazzle, or blind no hands bleeding, no bandage to bind The heart captures love, passion, truth the body alive, encapsulated, aloof there isn't a lie, you don't need the proof or a fairy to take away the tooth. A feeling of strength, nowhere to hide forget the pitiful, embrace your pride follow the stream ,to the ultimate tide fly high to the clouds, and glide Trust your fellow man, conquer all fear dodge the bullet, or a sharp spear keep it under control, hold whats dear every man has feelings, and will shed a tear Promises kept, sometimes promises lost fearful shadow...

There was a spider crawling on my floor couldn't catch the blighter to put out the door. Every day my eyes were peeled hoping it would show not on the walls, or in a corner were did it go? Open windows are needed on a hot summer night but creatures of the outside scamper for the light. Giant moths fly in tune dive-bombing by the second no care for anything in its path or a newspaper it never reckoned! Still the search is on for my spider house mate were the heck did it go? is it ready for its fate? Scanning the floor, and the walls still it does not appear the thought of it still in my  house is filling me with fear. Our eight legged furry friends have no idea how they panic a man in his middle years distraught and all too manic. Just when its out of your mind in the corner of your eye you see your friend running on the floor so cheeky and its free. Deciding on what action to take whether he will stand still or run will you do the humane thing? or shoot it with a ...

Colourful  prisms of light set free from blackened cracked glass forcing the darkness to illuminate the scent of cut grass. She never leaves her home imprisoned by the walls no one ever sees her people rarely calls. A woman who once held respect worked in charity everyday a pillar of the community well respected and had much to say. Many years passed in her life tragedy struck many times family passed away, friends moved on her son sent down for crimes. Now her life was empty her interest declined by day nothing ever changed for her she was set in her own little way. Doctors tried in vain to get her to leave her house a frail, aged woman as quiet as a mouse. She felt she was misunderstood no one knew how she felt her illness killing her slowly of which she was unwillingly dealt. The fear to leave her house finally took its toll her heart gave up the battle the final drum roll. There were no crowds present just her son with a teary eye this woman who had suffered could finally say...

An old woman cried all through the night, For she lost four sons in a bloody fight, Their voices still heard, in a distant past, Born so quickly, and died so fast. Fought for freedom, a right to survive, Worked so hard, to stay alive, Born in tyranny, starving and meek, Women and children, hungry and weak. Clansmen hunting around for food, The rest of his kin, gathering wood, Mud huts leaking, raining hard, Fires dying, wood is charred. Freedom distant, lives are lost, Counting the sacrifices, mourning the loss, One day they will sing, depression will lift, Hoping that God will shower his gift. Death shall be rewarded in a life of new, The old woman sad, lonely and blue Remembering her sons, who fought and tried, To make life better, and live with pride. Many more deaths, when will it end? For rights and freedom, in which we depend, will it come one day? it’s so far a dream, Where reality rules, in a slow running stream. The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak, But death ...