As a result to the problem of the ever-present sadness in my poetry, I came up with one that is a little more… Positive. I would not label it as a happy poem, either, but it certainly has nothing to do with a lost lover or things of that kind. It, in fact, tries to depict that nice cozy feeling of an autumn night you can spend with a nice book by the warmth of the fireplace. Away from all the people who bug you endlessly, and don’t even see how much it annoys you.
Here is the poem:
The Quiet Queen
She is the quiet kind of helping hand –
she, eventually, makes you understand,
that even if the skies are dark and grim
it means not that you cannot sit and dream,
alone in silent, golden, solitude,
alone in front of flaming, burning wood.
Alone, alone – with no one in the house,
so quiet, so – no, not even a mouse.
Just you, and all your dreams and thoughts,
warm and safe and clear from all of those
who try and try and try to get to you,
but see not that without them you could do.
She – that quiet Queen of all the Wheel of Year.
She – who loves both smile and tear;
whose joyous colors burn so bright outside,
but whose painful weeping hides us out of sight.