Bill Ewen

Biography

Bill is a 55 year old family man, who lives in Kemnay, Aberdeenshire, and has enjoyed writing heartfelt and inspirational poetry for the last 12 years. As of yet he has not had any poems published, but feels that his poetry deserves to be seen by a wider audience. His occupation would be best described as a machine operator/driver in the production department of an international aggregates supplier, and his spare time is mostly devoted to creative writing, reading novels, and sharing quality time with family and friends. He is an avid poet who has a talent for composing verses from seemingly ordinary everyday observations, then crafting them into rhythmic rhymes. Bill's Poetic Mixture (His Personal Collections) can be viewed at www.geocities.com/bilisonlyne

Samples

LOVE NEVER DIES I am that glow in the rising sun, I am the light that greets tomorrow, I will fly on the wings of the morning, To soothe all your moments of sorrow. I am there in the softest whisper, I am borne on the wind as it sighs, I will drift like a mist in the moonlight, To the place where our love never dies. © WJE 2003 All rights reserved. ********** GOSSAMER PAGES I am there in the still of the night, Feel me close on your saddest day, Hear my voice in each quiet moment, Where I'll wait just a heartbeat away, I am bound for this place in the future, Hear my call as I pass through the ages, For my words can be heard in the story, That is told from those Gossamer pages. © WJE 2003 All rights reserved. ********** BLESS HER HEART See her face! See her smile! Be swift with all your glances! For life shall save her sweetness, In realms where time advances. Hear her voice! Hear her talk! Be charmed to coax her chatter! For life shall prompt her mouth, To speak the words that matter. Feel her touch! Feel her love! Be wise with all your answers! For life shall form her thoughts, To share with great romancers. Bless her heart! Bless her soul! Be proud, then guide this child! For life shall be the playground, Where all her dreams run wild. © WJE 2004 All rights reserved. ********** RUNNING THE RACE The smallest snatch of the hour, Will pass with dalliance rare, For the daily haste of the man, Seems akin to that of the hare. The frantic flight of the crowd, Will pass with galvanized gait, For the daily stride of the man, Seems fast to one who can wait. The timeless tick of the clock, Will pass with resolute pace, For the daily choice of the man, Seems best for running the race. The dauntless drives of the day, Will pass with prevalent speed, For the daily chase of the man, Seems tied to a lifetime of greed. © WJE 2004 All rights reserved. ********** RARE REWARD Trees with naked limbs Blasted by cruel winds No respite - no defence Nature rules with a heavy hand! Leaves, tinged with dirt and decay Blown from the turn of her seasons Won from the wastes of winter Pledged by the passage of time No victory - no profit Nature thrives on rare reward! Turning death to her advantage Claiming those scattered remains Finding that place for humans Simply born as mere spectators No judgment - no greed Nature gives back as she gains! Creating her world of tomorrow Clearing the path for her children © WJE 2006 All rights reserved. ********** THAT PRIMAL SCREAM One damaged soul, one broken heart, Her dying words confirmed his fears ; That last goodbye was faintly heard, While fate reclaimed her living years. One final kiss, one final breath, His precious love had slipped away ; That silence crept around the room, While grief denied him words to say. One saddened stare, one tearful face, His mind now closed to every dream ; That trembling voice revealed his loss, While lips released that primal scream. © WJE 2007 All rights reserved. ********** THAT WOEFUL WAIL His feeble touch, his fading will, Her mortal eyes foresaw his death ; That reaper grim from other plains, Had come to claim his final breath. His vapid shape, his vacant stare, Her wounded heart already knew ; That distant realm of graceful love, Had lured his soul beyond the blue. His last farewell, his longest sleep, Her time for tears would yet prevail ; That sound she could not hold within, Had swelled to form that woeful wail. © WJE 2007 All rights reserved.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.