Poem for January 11th, 2002 (#1):

But from the ages of my life

One arm here and one eye there

A heavy figure to call 'wife'...

But yet the mournful lady howls

And cries in the night, to be let in

A fearful din, a mournful plight

This darkest lady of the night...

Times long past I knew her well

And yet, the worse thing is that she

Knew such times, such times flow left

Into a brief eternity.

Ghost stalks outside my bedroom door

A goblin most of goblinkind

But more, alas, from closer place

The oldly halls of my own mind…

The lady once forgotten seems

To grow, and grow, and grow some more

Sure, she knocks upon the door

Where candle's not to help the blind...

This lady once was I, I fear

The ghost I was, my past in eth'ral form

Memories of this arise before my eyes,

Of what I've been, and I am lorn.