Well, SP1 doesn't stand for Seriously Poetic One, but after discussing this with Anna Mae, I suppose it's time to start a thread for my stuff.
Here are two from the archives of my youth:
Flying
Flying
High
Like an eagle
Soaring
Among the clouds
But wait
Look
Far below
A world
Too busy to notice me.
Time
Time, it has occurred to me,
Is so much more than we can see.
It carries on throughout our lives,
Further, and further and further we strive
To catch a glimpse of time anew
But see it, old and gray, when we finally do.
For to reach time is to stand on a line
With both ends extending forever...in time.
It helps to read Time while playing The Moody Blues' Threshold of a Dream in the background.