Looking From The Window Of Creation

~Looking From The Window Of Creation~

Right there in that part of the mind where the mist connect the past
reflections of time wasted and not wasted
wast horizon in wisdom of age
to what once seamed so important now but air
the madness of youth and the mass hypnotic
but the reflection of death seamed so far away back then
We are trapped in stages of our time and our life
we follow some stream of life and taste
till a final goodbye
the rattle within through life and yet at the end but sleep
that is a reflection one would like to reflect and yet
for this soul hard to grasp in images of forever lost
We come into textures of old to hide behind fear
and yet created by whom this kingdom of madness
do you see the signs in the world order
or in a fact the blinding light of promised time
kept deep the window of creation
the secret of worth
No matter the creed or believes
the taste the same in death
but in this reflection hollow
faced by the lost of the knowledge
and to be born again and again
this to my reflection true….

©The Poet Stefan 2014-04-02



Even in darkness another side
where the light can shine
and it is there like grabbing the knob of the door
to open it and see it
but fear is and have always been
a destructive force to our fragile minds
But anyone can break free from the stale
with a multitude of choices
just like the food you put into your mouth
to bring you energy
light the same effect but to your soul reflection
do not starve in vain
Fantasy not only a concept
as in reality we can change things
just wield your magic
the power is yours
take the steep
to the desired direction
Your way your blame
no one or nothing else
but what you do to set the motion
be good or evil
it is your choice
in peace or in war
As all it is
the creation we made
and as creators we choice
the world of tomorrow
but each to their own
to what we can live with…

The Poet Stefan

Creation (Poem And an Update)


Where magic lay almost everything is possible
to create beauty to the eye and mind
and within this vein the flow
of worlds imagination made real
look to behold the creator
within the creation
On this timelines we sail
in different capture
yet with the same meaning
that for us mean the life we live
laid out from our own hands
this dance of created angels & demons
And to our last breath
the wish of the impossible
that no matter what
life can not be bought
neither true love
so it live in the balance of our sanity and heart…

The Poet Stefan

I Now have a Second blog that you can find by clicking here and it will have a poem posted each week (unless I am on a vacation -lol-) and no it will not be the same poetry as I am posting here…so keep your eyes open and enjoy 😉

The Shape Of It All

~The Shape Of It All~

Time like the arcade given moments
the spring within
a leap or a fall
in development
Opportunity to be a winner or failure
on the concrete block
never soft and always hard
for the fighting soul
Experience the lesson to learn or pass
unto whom the personality alter
this reality of now
like the image of the stone in the pond
Movements shown in the passage of life and death
in where a kind of need of creation
away from what lay behind it all
that well-known emptiness
We ride in this carriage on the roller caster
of the senses from within
reflected upon the world
our own deeds
For unto whom the meaning
in the name of light or darkness
take it without blame
for none but yourself
Unless it bleed beyond comprehension
as then it lay outside your control
and maybe there a name to place
in some higher meaning
For it is given as it are
the limits without
you know it will never save
the image from fading
History the proven map
of decade and rust
with all kinds of ripples
laid in the line of whom followed
In generations on this earth
in love and in hatred
its fingerprint
to whom we are

The Poet Stefan

The Sword

~The Sword~

That shinning sword that never rust or fade
that cut our skin with no mercy
to find some point in the knowledge
as no savior really there to save
you from the cold sword
Numbers it’s all by numbers
counting down
to the unbearable truth of time
where you are the rust the fading wind
as time lending us no help
Yes there are all the beauty of the world
yet created to move past our own creation
somehow it seem so stupid
to create for the fall
and the sword

©Stefan 2011