The Seeker’s Goal

It is a journey of a
Thousand steps and more
A quest that seeks the
Familiar hearth, a place
On which to rest my boots
I can not say on what
Shore I might find it
Not do I know if I
Will recognize it by sight
It is a place of the
Future obscured by nostalgia
All that is certain is that
It awaits me out there

By Nicholas Byrley


The search for a house to rent continues! Also, I’m still short 1 poem this week. Trying to rectify that still.

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Time Bleeds

I can feel it seeping out, one drop at a time.

The wound is never healed,  stitches always ripped.

In conversations, at red lights, any given moment.

The day gradually drains away, losing the fight.

Every dawn brings a fresh cut and a struggle.

It is with this pains that we must live our lives.

By Nicholas Byrley


Sorry for no poem yesterday, I’ll have another up later today.

Into Nothingness

The world is dimming, darkening ever so slightly.

I can feel it drifting away, losing itself.

Reality has lost its edge, entropy a victor at last.

In this haze we shuffle, going though the motions.

As the world recedes we become bereft of meaning.

With fading steps we walk, questioning our being.

By Nicholas Byrley

The world is never quite real.

Misunderstanding

Confusion reigns when words sting.

Hurt arises unopposed, victory assured.

Reason done and fled, the battle commenced.

A field of slaughter, both sides mourn.

Treaties signed and wounds patched, speech reconsidered.

Forgiveness shared, bonds reformed and celebrated.

By Nicholas Byrley


Simple things can blow up sometimes.

Let It Roll

No thoughts
Deep breaths
Body relaxed
Steps begun
Arm dropped
Hand cocked
Motion carried
Smooth slide
Ball released
Game on

By Nicholas Byrley


Nerdiest poem yet? Perhaps. I’ve got a bowling  tournament this weekend. Really psyched up about it. Win or life it’ll be fun.

The Jaded Lens

In my youth I viewed
The world most crude
Unyielding and without care
Nothing made any sense
Motivations a mystery
In my maturity I still
See it crude but now
Everything makes a terrible
Kind of sense, what drives
Is base desire and naked
Ambition, the world is simply
Crude and uncaring because
That is what people are

By Nicholas Byrley

This flowed out in a couple minutes, it feels a little down but it has truth to it. And sorry for no poem yesterday, was sick at home.