Seeker Magazine

DyrkHawke

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I'm 16 years young (15 when I started submitting to Seeker) and live in Ohio with my mother and 4 cats. We moved 100 miles from Kentucky to Ohio when I was in the 8th grade, which was a change, as I'm sure you can imagine. I was one of the only new kids in a small town of closely knit people. What was I to do? There was nothing to do but integrate, so I did. It was fun starting over. I can say that to myself only now looking back on it. The first year of living here was hard, but it was a good change. I got my first good computer (good meaning it had a modem) a year later, and it changed my life.

I had heard people raving about America Online, so I signed on, and discovered the internet. Eventually, as I had in the physical community, I started to integrate myself into the cyber community, and rapidly became addicted. I've met a lot of wonderful people out here, including the Hawks, who are among my best friends!

I started writing...seriously writing...about the same time I moved to Ohio. I found that I could tell people what I thought, what I felt and what I dreamed, just with a few words arranged in one form or another. Stories were my first love. I wrote a story a week, the subjects ranging from aliens taking over the planet to ideas stating that we were all some fleeting day dream. Though I still write stories, my preference shifted when I discovered poetry. I found it easy to express myself in poetry, and express myself I did. Writing has always been a kind of release for me. It reflects me, at the moment of writing.

A while ago I met the editor of Seeker by chance in a conference room. We were both writers, and we were both seeking something. I was a Seeker of outlets and ideas; she was a Seeker of writers and good stories. Then again, maybe it wasn't by chance. Doesn't it seem a little too perfect? Well, whatever it was, I'm still here, and I'm still writing. They say I'm getting better, but I know I've got a long way to go. Life is a long road we all travel. It's got bumps, ditches, curves and smooth straight-aways. You have to go where it takes you...but don't forget...you chose the direction.


Untitled
. . . like coming upon an apple tree
And finding only leaves and twigs
Are caressed by your grasping fingers.
The emptiness is in the apple
You wish was growing
On the fruitless branch.

. . . like finding an open book
And seeing the pages filled
With unwritten dreams ~~ ideas lost.
The emptiness is in the words
You wish you had written
On the untouched sheets of paper.

. . . like encountering a loving heart
And finding only lonliness and longing
Are brought on by your idee fixe.
The emptiness is in the soul
You wish you had touched
While you had the chance.

In Fair Verona
A shattered vial rests on the cold floor.
Obstacles are overcome, but the goal remains unreached.
Hearts, intertwined, caress the undying souls
That give lives their meaning, their truth.

A warm embrace shuts out the darkness death brings.
A kiss, sealing eternal love, is exchanged.
Tears are allowed to flow, but not on purpose.
Sweet words heal the wounds afflicted.

The feelings of loss, despair, and sorrow
Are forgotten and displaced, to make way for affection.
The sense of being alone is lost somewhere,
Somewhere in the moment, never retrieved.

Eyes take their last looks; hands take their last caresses.
In the arms of one another,
They seek for that they did not have in life.
The freedom to love an enemy, to forget a name.

The rose smells sweetest
For this pair of star-cross'd lovers.

Sometimes...
Sometimes we see clearer
Without our eyes.
Sometimes the unexpected
Doesn't come as a surprise.

At times things seeming weak
Are amazingly strong.
Sometimes the seconds fly by
Feeling years and years long.

Sometimes there are things
That shake your beliefs.
Sometimes there are joys
Found in the harshest of griefs.

Sometimes love
Is all that is known.
Sometimes feelings
Don't need to be shown.

Sometimes a soul
Is all one sees.
Sometimes a word
Will float on a breeze.

Sometimes things can be said
Without any lies.
Sometimes we see clearer
Without our eyes.

Loverise
It slowly, so slowly creeps
Into the dawn of your life,
Shining light and warmth
And security into the passing darkness.
You walk in it and can't help
But smile
Glowing and radiating all around you,
You feel as though anything -
And everything -
Is possible.
The setting of your new-found light
Is feared, but that fear is ignored.
For you know that,
Like a blazing fire in
A cold dark night,
You shall carry with you
The joy and power of love
Till the next dawn


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Letter to the Poet:
DyrkHawke [ DyrkHawke@aol.com ]
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