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A Poetry and Photography Showcase
Spring Edition, March 2009, Volume 8


Poetry by Craig Fallon

You Donít Know Me At All

You don’t really know me
I’m not what you want to see, but
I am reality
I am the sum of all your qualities

I am the reflection
The joker of rejection
Revealed in introspection
Of your projections

80 percent of who you became
I am the 20 percent that is to blame
I didn’t bring you fortune or fame
I am you, all the same

I am your hopes and dreams
Your nightmarish screams
The illuminating light beam
Your words upon the reams

I am the needlework of your life
The crochet formed through strife
I am the knife
That almost ended your life

I am you, can’t you see
I am all that you can be
Just set me free, and
We’ll sail upon life’s sea

Together as one

Craig Fallon © 2009

Nature’s Call

Sitting at the edge
gazing out over
this land that time
seemingly has forgotten

The water, clear
like the rarest diamond
gently laps at the shore
as if bestowing a lover’s kiss

All around me
hidden amongst the elm, spruce, and pine
a serenade of bird songs
blue jays, robins, and finches
harmonize their joyous refrain
to the beauty that surrounds

They mask the sound
of traffic and humanity
slowly drowning out the harsh noise
‘till all that is left
is the acappella of birds
flowing on the breeze
whispering through the trees

Suddenly geese call out
and erupt in flight
from the center of the reservoir
bid welcome with
a graceful flyover

I sit here on the edge
of this land
forgotten in time
peace and serenity
caress my soul
calling…welcome home

Craig Fallon © 2009

Angel Wings

Take my hand little one
Come with me
It is beautiful
So you’ll see

I know you’re scared
Feeling lost and alone
You have nothing to fear
You’re coming home

You never got the chance
To experience so many things
But where you’re going
Everybody sings

You never saw
Your mother’s smiling face
I promise you will one day
When she joins us in this place

Your tiny immortal soul
So innocent and pure
Pleased our Father so much
You can be sure

So take my hand little one
We’re going where everyone sings
Once there you will get
Your very own Angel wings

Craig Fallon © 2009





Craig Fallon
Craig Fallon


About the Author

Craig was born, raised and currently lives in Marlborough, MA. Although he has always had an urge to write, he only started doing so regularly in March of 2007. It was at that time that he began writing poems. He did so more out of a sense of releasing pent up emotion. Quickly, he found a joy in writing them.

Craig has no formal training in writing, he has learned through reading and challenging himself on different styles that he has seen on MySpace. He also enjoy writing stories and plans to edit one to submit for publishing soon.

Craig finds inspiration in many different areas, though many of his writes have a tinge of faith or political beliefs instilled in them. A lot of them tend to also contain emotions which he has felt at some point in his life.

In his spare time, Craig enjoys reading, listening to music and writing. Favorite poets include Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Favorite writers include Stephen King, Jeffrey Deaver, Kate Eliot, Robert Jordan, Terry Brooks and J.R.R. Tolkien.



You may contact Craig at:

talonkardde2000@yahoo.com

 



Please check out his myspace page at:

www. myspace. com/Craig_Fallon

 

 

Old Man Winter

I stood wrapped within the pre-dawn light
as all around, sparkling snowflakes tumbled to the ground
and old man winter’s icy breath blew
swirling the snow with nary a sound
while all around lie sleeping warm in their beds
oblivious to the pristine whiteness that surrounds
I stand with plumes of smoke drifting upwards
gazing at the beauty this early morn I have found
melting snowflakes cling with all their might
to my beard, leaving me a sodden sight
I stand there amazed by all I see
this final two-handed grasp of old man winter
holding on tightly, though spring is near
this white blanket reminds all who bear witness
there’s always time for another nor’easter

Craig Fallon © 2009



Winter Rose

On a cold and clear late December night
as snow begins to fall upon the ground
everything sparkles within the moonlight
a single white winter rose can be found

reaching up towards the heavenly sky
spreading petals, releasing its fragrance
when seen from afar, it elicits sighs
up close it causes burning passions dance

a glorious sight for one to behold
this shimmering life, the white winter rose
only growing within deep arctic cold
and from within its petals beauty glows

in you my dear I see the same beauty
from my icy heart, for you, love bursts free

Craig Fallon © 2009




Pouring Rain

You know what they say
When it rains, it pours
I never truly understood
What they meant before

It starts slowly
With a small trial
Nothing so big
Shrug it off with a smile

This will pass
That we all know
Only through difficulty
Can one truly grow

Then the problems
Grow ever larger
Making it past
Becoming harder

It feels like you are
Swimming upstream, like bass
Yet still we know
This too shall pass

When finally it comes
The pain no one should feel
Why did it happen
This can’t be real

No reason for this
To happen, yet still
It did, could it be
All God’s will

Though we don’t see
And never can understand
There is rhyme and reason
To God’s plan

We will survive the trials
Forged in the fire
Our strength will rise
Like the phoenix
from the ashes of the pyre

In the end
We’ll be rejoined with those we’ve lost
And finally we’ll understand
The reason we had to pay such a cost

Craig Fallon © 2009

Reach Out

A beautiful soul
reached out to us
through wires and electrical pulses
bridging so many miles
sharing joy
spreading laughter
creating friendships
enriching our lives

till one day
she was torn away
by pain and darkness of Lethe
leaving a hole
in each of us

so now we reach out
through the paths she forged
across the many miles
to provide comfort
share happiness
return the smile to her face
to show her just how much
she really means
to each of us

Craig Fallon © 2009

Unrecognized

The poet sits alone
in a candlelit room
ink and paper at hand
as thoughts wildly cascade
throughout his bitter soul

Consumed by words he writes
baring his essence now
a glimpse of his true self
yet no one notices
every word he writes

Tear drops fall, smudging ink
hopes, dreams and visions gone
distorted by hopeless
melancholic feelings
of total worthlessness

He watches silently
as the world passes by
blissfully unaware
of his hidden torment as
he slowly fades away

Craig Fallon © 2009




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