LittlePerson's Rose Garden

Courage

2006-11-03T08:13:00.000-08:00

Courage
There is no one here but you.
Though God is never far
from your heart and soul
a part of you, alive in you,
you are blessed every day.
For you are God in every way.
Sent to send love to each person
who is a part of your life
in this world of experience.
Live it. See it. Know it.
Today is a day to know more,
to feel more, to see more.
Let nothing stand in your way.
Fear cannot harm you.
Nothing can harm you.
You are safe. You are loved.
You are alive.

A Rose Among Daisies

2006-07-22T16:47:00.000-07:00

He walked into her garden,
whilst the full moon was high.
There in the dewy ev'ning light,
her silken, blushing petals shone,
like a beacon unto his heart.

It was there a single red bloom,
hiding amongst the snowy daisies,
waiting for him to find her there,
sending out her aroma to lure him
to her soft sweet heavenly center.

His hand reached out and grazed
against the velvety petals pink
and there did pluck her out swiftly
so that a solitary drop of crimson,
from her thorny touch fell on white.

Brought Back to Life

2006-07-06T05:14:00.000-07:00

You brought me back to life,
with your unending support.
You've shown me you love me;
you know my wants and needs.
You are the light in the attic,
where I'd decided to hide away
in the shadows of dark defeat.
But you washed those cobwebs
and worries away from my mind,
to make me realize having you
in my life is a very good reason
for living my life in your love light.
Thank you dearest husband,
for bringing me back to life.

Enigma

2006-06-10T15:51:00.000-07:00

The restless mind doth wander
from whence it came in mist,
shrouded in dank confustion,
where spinning chaos doth exist.

No reason for our ponderance,
to eternal questions of the mind,
edging towards delerium,
wondering what we'll find.

I shall leave these thoughts to thee
where by the raven doth protest,
to journey towards an absolution,
or and endless fruitless test.

Sweet Freedom

2006-06-10T15:44:00.000-07:00

The chains are loosening now.
Calories come and then they go.
Temptations only give scare briefly,
elating my spirit when they leave.
Keeping this body exercising,
along with viens hydrated
are new objectives in my life.
The bloated shadow that used to be
has shrunk and lengthened too.
Allthough it's candy and sugar I've liked,
freedom tastes the sweetest to me.

I've lost 40lbs since 1/7/06 and this journey has inspired me to create this poem for the rest of you to see just how much this has really moved me.

Hope

2006-05-20T09:53:00.000-07:00

Helping others to find peace,
Opening our hearts to each other,
People believing in humanity,
Everyone come together as one.

Colors from the Past

2006-05-06T06:13:00.000-07:00

Saffron, butter cream yellow,
drifting like a memory,
beneath the purple haze of meloncholy.
Shattered happiness,
like broken butterfly wings,
dark solitude a solice,
in loving regret of our past.

Just a thank you to the fans and an apology.

2006-05-06T06:10:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I could no longer post from work. It wasn't safe. And my time to post at home is limited. However, I have recently written a new poem and will continue to try submit them to my blog as they are so inspired, which could be at any time. So, if there are gaps between new poems, please know that I am grateful for your visits and comments, and do wish you to return to peruse the older poetry as well to find new meaning and peace.
Sincerely,
LittlePerson

Who do I Look to When the Stars go out?

2005-11-09T13:26:00.000-08:00

Who do I look to when the stars go out,
when all of life's questions remain unanswered,
when I see nothing beyond the pale moon?
Are you supposed to be forever unseen,
an invisible force not to be reckoned with?
Why is it that some men think they know
everything there is to know about you,
but there are others like myself who study
all there is known to man and remain empty
of the answers to all the questions posed?
I need to know you in words, in lables,
in a box, but you are not one to be confined.
You are in the stars, in the trees, the breeze,
the cloudless moonlight in the darkness,
in the mind of those with endless imagination,
but where are you in images that stand alone,
in forms which we think we can concieve?
I think I know you, but then you leave me,
taunting me with those changes you create,
being one image in one moment then another
in a single beating of my confused heart.
What or who can be the one I lean on,
pray to, thank, and talk to if not you, unamed,
unknown, unloved by those who cannot see.
I am one who cannot see, cannot understand,
the complexity of your entire existance.
Come to me, show me so that I learn from you
all of what you are in this mixed up life.
Why do you not care that my thoughts change
so fast they are like seeds carried in the wind,
planting themselves only to die and be blown away?
Why do they have to change anyway dear God?
Why do they change from one day to the next?
Are you teaching me something from this act?
Are you showing me that I look to myself
when the stars go out in the darkness of life?
Or is it just that you cannot fit into a neat box,
but must remain free to change when you will?
Who do I look to, who am I praying to when
I need you, when I am loving someone unknown?

Dream Drifter

2005-11-08T11:28:00.000-08:00

Oh, how I do miss thee my love,
my beautious vision from above.
I miss thy tender kisses so sweet,
the feel of heart and its heavy beat.
I miss the way you see into my eyes
past the surface to where desire lies.
I like the way you hold me in close
sheltering me when the wind blows.
Call me back again into your land,
where time does not move the sand
in the hourglass where our faces meet,
in a place where our love is sweet.
When I close my eyes you come to me.
I'll be waiting here; I'll wait for thee.

I've been finding myself missing my imagination of me and Eros. I was so content with Him but we drifted apart because I started questioning my spirituality a while back. I'd like to find him again if only in my dreams.

Chocolate Fantasy

2005-11-08T08:20:00.000-08:00

I imagine a world of chocolate,
where chocolate grows on trees,
and honey bees create syrup
made of chocolate and honey.
Chocolate eclairs grow like catails
along a running chocolate river.
There are chess pieces of white
and those of dark chocolate on
a chocolate marble checker table.
Winning a piece means you eat it.
Chocolate chip cookies are money;
if you get hungry you spend it eating it.
White chocolate clouds rain white chips
which you can collect in hollow buckets
made from milk chocolate molds.
The best part of this fantasy
is that the chocolate has no calories.
Everyone lives in a perfect harmony,
surrounded by the sweetest chocolate.

This was for all of you chocoholics like me! :)

Timeless Thanksgiving

2005-11-04T08:13:00.000-08:00

A full harvest on table is laid,
to welcome each lord and maid,
feasting with gracious hands,
the food from bountious lands.
Thereby they give thanks unto
the divinity they believe did do
the blessings upon the riches given
there upon earth and in heaven.
Fireplace lit in castle hearth
cheering the cherubs of the earth,
playing with their wooden toys,
are all those little girls and boys.
Though the peasant do work long
they break out into pleasant song,
while their clean dressed kings eat
all the newest harvest of wheat.
All of them though miles apart,
in manners, custom, wealth and heart,
do there partake in feast with family dear,
blessed by the fruits of that whole year.

Inspiration

2005-11-03T07:58:00.000-08:00

Inspiration to achieve one's goals
comes through in many ways.
It can be as simple as one's will,
or a pat on the back from a friend.
It can come in the night asleep
floating in a dream-like vision.
It can be seeing your own mentor
accomplishing his or her own goals.
It can come with a sudden heartache
to watch a loved one not succeed.
Inspiration is a fleeting thing,
always drifting in and out of life.
So when it comes into your path,
grab onto it with all of your might.

Jealous Paradise

2005-11-01T08:17:00.000-08:00

I watched them both together,
standing there beneath the tree,
the snake of jealousy slithering
up and down the thin tree limbs.
I wanted to be immune to it,
the hungry urgency in my mind,
but the feeling like milk gone sour
felt heavy in the pit of my stomach.
I wanted to taste the ripe fruit,
feel her flesh upon my own flesh,
hear her laughter ring in my ears,
see her merriment dance in her eyes.
But he had her in his slimy grasp,
entranced in some kind of dream,
and I could only let the hunger grow,
or join them both to be forever damned.
It was my choice to make now.
Would it be me on my own, alone?
Or, would it be the two of us and it,
trapped together, doomed to emotion,
doomed to jealous hate, jealous love,
jealous life, forever jealous paradise?

Where am I going?

2005-10-31T13:50:00.000-08:00

Where am I going?
What will I do?
How will it all end?
When does the road bend?
Where are the pitfalls?
Why am I even here?
Are my feet planted?
Why can't I grow?
When does life change?
What will it shape into?
Who is even listening
at the end of this rope?
Where am I going
while losing all hope?

The Acorn

2005-10-20T08:24:00.000-07:00

I feel like the acorn who has traveled long. It has had a long journey and one that is not over yet. For so long it held fast to mother oak feeling itself growing strong. It stayed there long after the autumn winds did break the hold upon the other seeds to make them drop, but there it stayed. It stayed there till one cold day near the middle of winter the coldest rush of wind did make the snow plop down unto it and break its hold. It rolled far upon the forest floor over small stones and twigs till it lay under a bush unseen unknown. Then, one day a grey squirrel hunting for its buried treasure of food came upon it, held it fast between its long teeth. Up, up they traveled through tree after tree until another squirrel came along, and began to fight with the other one. It was then, that the poor little acorn fell down again, way down. This time it rolled into a river which was flowing fast with ice. It bobbed and sank, brushed against stone after stone until it came into a rivulet. There is swirled with the water afraid that was its untimely end. Then a small hand of a human child rescued it when the blooms on the trees were out. It had lost all it's bright orange shine and was now a dull brown. But, the child placed it safe in its pocket until it was in his home. There, in a pot in a bright sun shiny window it was planted, safe and secure. It was in mother earth where it should be ready to stretch out its roots and create new life, ready to settle down. It knew that from that pot it would be planted again in the outdoors in their yard to grow into a wise huge oak tree to live a long life, safe and loved. It waited, waited for the chance to be kissed again by father rain and planted in mother earth. It was home.

Quicksand

2005-10-19T08:16:00.000-07:00

You're going to drown, way down,
but I'm trying to pull you out,
but you keep trying to pull me in.
I reach for you, and you keep pulling.
I keep pulling until our hands will slip
and then I'll see you sinking further
until you are no longer in my reach.
Why oh why did you step into it?
Why did you not see where you were
treading all those years ago now?
I want to save you my beloved,
but I'm afraid of going under with you.

Dawn

2005-10-17T05:54:00.000-07:00

Dawn has broken over the horizon.
Gentle breezes blow dandelion seeds.
Gracefully, the birds fly out to feed.
The bullfrogs at the pond swim under,
restless from their night of singing.
Butterflies seek out sweet nectar.
Everywhere people rise from slumber.
A new day has come peacefully, quickly,
for the darkness of the night before
has been consumed by the pink light
of a brilliant sun looming on the edge
of this raw and innocent morning,
bestowing hope into the hearts of men.

Beautifully Ruined

2005-10-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

Lemon drops melted in the sun,
chocolate dipped in vinegar,
wedding parties on a rainy day,
babies born with disabilities,
crystalline snow collapsing houses,
swirling mists making boats lost,
firefighters saving lives, dying themselves,
inspirational speakers assassinated,
cloud nine dreams broken shattered.
Wonderful life beautifully ruined.

Respect

2005-10-14T11:49:00.000-07:00

Reward for all the hard work.
Even the little guy should win.
Sometimes we all need a push.
People should see me for who I am.
Energy keeps coming from nowhere.
Could you stop looking through me?
Tell me that you care about me.

One day the sun will Shine

2005-10-13T08:44:00.000-07:00

One day the sun will shine,
and the clouds will break away.
The sun will be a brilliant blue
and things will begin to go my way.

Life will come into this body,
and love will lift me up on high.
No more panic attacks will come,
no tears that stream with a sigh.

One day He will see my hard work,
and reward me with his blessed hand.
One day the sun will shine so bright
upon this servant and the very land.

Where is the Hope

2005-10-11T08:21:00.000-07:00

Where is the hope when darkness falls,
when despair creates a tidal pool,
which sucks you in and holds tight?

Where is the hope when you wait
forever and the time stretches on
until it seems like it will never end?

Where is the hope when death calls
even though the blood of youth fills
the very veins in the livable body?

Where is the hope when prayers fall
on deaf ears, unanswered, unloved,
making faith weaken and loose hold?

Where is the hope when you give up
trying to keep going every single day
despite the pain, grief, and frustration?

Where is the hope when it feels lost,
when none can be found in the fog
that is one's soul torn by hopelessness?

Careful Deception

2005-10-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

With careful deception she lives,
trying not to swim out too deep,
surrounded by careless inquiries
about the facts of her life, her day,
and so not wanting to hurt another
who has trusted her with knowledge
of his daily live entwined with her own,
she lies with a burden to keep his pride,
but inside she aches so badly, so much,
that she feels bruised every single time
that the words come uttering forth,
careful, always careful with deception.

Bloom

2005-10-07T13:58:00.000-07:00

It will all be too late soon,
too late to bloom beneath the sun,
spread open the soft dewy petals,
and be taken in by the bees,
to create new seeds of life,
and let them drop way down
before shriveling and drooping
feeling the life force draining,
the journey will not happen for her,
she will not be like other blooms,
this beautiful flower, shining bright,
for she will be shut tight, a blossom,
so full, so ripe, so juicy, so pretty,
but dying before she can bloom
to create and drop the new seeds,
taken, taken in the prime of life.

I know it's utterly depressing but it's how I feel and how I feel comes out in these words I put to "digital" paper. I hate feeling this way but I feel so desperate right now it's ridiculous to even realize it. I just hope that the words sway the reader, dear reader to know how beautiful a metaphor can be even in sadness.

Watery Wonder

2005-10-04T07:48:00.000-07:00

Sea foam green, swirling melancholy,
drenched in a deep sea of hopelessness,
I am spun pushed by the hard current,
head bobbing, hitting the sandy bottom,
tossed about like yesterday's laundry,
spinning in the torrent of the machine,
only it is an aquatic hand, a wet wave,
which slaps me, pushing me under again,
until I am only aware of the salty water,
no perception of which way is up or down,
waiting for the final release of struggle,
ready to float aimlessly among the wreckage.

Jack-O-Lantern

2005-10-02T11:49:00.000-07:00

I remember how you found me,
a young pumpkin cut down
in the prime of my youth,
set upon a soggy hay bale,
tagged with a price around the stem.
You picked me up and hugged me,
knocked on my shell a few times,
then, closed me in your trunk,
where I tossed and rolled,
until we stopped at your home.
I was already dying, cut from
the vine of my only ancestors,
but I could've screamed had I
a mouth already with which to yell,
when I saw you with the knife,
glinting in the evening sun.
You drew with marker a wicked face
upon the smooth orange outer shell,
and stabbed right straight through it
until my insides came sloshing out,
all of my future children, my seeds,
spilled upon the warm concrete.
I was butchered there held fast
in your motherly gentle arms.
And though I was gutted I felt
no more alarm in the autumnal silence.
I finally had eyes to see the world,
and a nose with which breath in and out,
and a smile so frightening and huge
that I could scare all the children,
who would see me with a candle
flickering from base of my wet belly,
shining wildy for all to see and know.
So, though you took my pumpkin life,
you gave a new one back to me,
a terrifying jack-0-lantern's life,
one made from creative innocence,
and a child's Halloween curiosity.

Wind Whisper

2005-09-30T11:57:00.000-07:00

You always keep running,
but you can never run far enough,
so like dandelion seeds drifting,
you float back on the winds,
coming back to the safety,
of your mother's soft embrace.

Blanket Day

2005-09-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

Some days are blanket days,
days when you want to curl
up in front of a fireplace,
read a nice, interesting book,
light a vanilla scented candle,
drink a cup of warm cocoa,
eat some sweet sugar cookies,
wear your most comfortable pants
and a warm thick sweater too,
when you wish it would just rain,
or in fact even snow a little,
covering the earth in a cool
ozone scent to fill the air.
I feel today is a blanket day,
but I'm stuck at work, so, I'll
day dream of cozy days instead.

Comforting Thoughts

2005-09-26T07:53:00.000-07:00

She held me close last night,
let me put my head in her lap,
her beautiful blonde hair shone
brilliantly in the pale moonlight.
She stroked my hair gently,
whispering comforting thoughts
about the love of the mother
and the love of the father.
A beautiful stag came up to me,
he was so big and so strong.
He nuzzled my neck with his
wet and cold nose hugging me,
and I reached and pet him
along his head from his nose
to his eyes, so soft his fur was.
And he let hug him 'round his neck
then he lay down in front of me
so that I would know he was close.
She sang to me in elvish humming,
making my breathing more peaceful.
It was the love of divine parents,
HaShem and Shekinah in a vision
in a time when I needed comfort
late at night trying to fall asleep.

Hope for Tomorrow

2005-09-22T08:14:00.000-07:00

One ray of light pierces the gloom,
lifts back the curtain of grey cloud,
shines into the depressed hearts,
creates inside a hope for tomorrow.

One child giggles with foolishness,
melts the ice surrounding hearts,
makes us begin to laugh wildly too,
creates inside a hope for tomorrow.

One person cries large tears of joy,
lies in a hospital bed treated kindly,
heals from all of cancer's death hold,
creates inside a hope for tomorrow.

One country forgives one another,
shakes presidential hands together,
mends wounds created from wars,
creates inside a hope for tomorrow.

One act of kindness begets another,
weakens the bonds of violence,
shatters the illusion of hopelessness,
creates hope for the world of tomorrow.

The Shards

2005-09-20T13:49:00.000-07:00

The shards of the mirror
lay scattered at her feet,
tiny images reflected 'round,
so many of her adult face shown
watery, sad, and disillusioned.
Careful not to step on them,
she picks them up one at a time,
placing them onto the hard
surface that is her very life,
so that they create puzzle pieces,
unable to make them stick
she cries with utter frustration,
nicking her warm thumb
on one bright shiny shard's edge,
sucking on it as a child would,
seeking out the glue, the adhesive,
to put those mirrored shards,
somehow back together again.

Tiny Dancer

2005-09-16T10:27:00.000-07:00

She sprints across the stage,
look at me written on her face,
but they don't see her there,
with the spot light all around,
the frilly lace, the silk ribbons,
even a tiara on her shiny hair,
still don't sparkle enough
to grab onto their attention.
So she dances harder, faster,
spins more brilliantly, tries more,
till she crashes onto the floor,
burned, panting, crushed, hurt.
Her heart pumping, racing fast,
tries not to break or ache,
but the tears fill hot in her eyes
looking out, seeking for them.
It is never enough is it?
No matter how much she dances,
even to the beat of a different drum,
with that firey light upon her,
it makes no amount of difference.
She'll be strong and proud too,
for herself, even if they can't be,
even if they can't share
with her, her accomplishments.
So, she picks herself up,
brushes off the dirt from her dress,
and bows low and deep,
and then she prepares herself,
to dance once again, for an empty
audience, one who looks but
does not see, does not care.

Words that Hurt

2005-09-16T07:45:00.000-07:00

There are words that hurt,
words that are painful,
when said even if the truth,
because people don't know
when to keep their mouths
shut and keep the words in.
What was supposed to be
a celabratory telephone call,
turned into utter boredom,
and complete frustration.
Thank you for ending
my day with endless
droning and words that stab
into my already knowing heart.
Next time keep your
mouth shut or I'll keep
my ears closed instead.

Birthday

2005-09-15T08:54:00.000-07:00

Twenty-nine years ago,
this very day,
a young woman gave birth
to a baby daughter.
Her father smiled,
when she grabbed onto
his finger with her hand.
She christened her April
which means beginning
and also openings,
and her father gave her
the middle name Marie,
in honor of the blessed
mother Mary of his faith.
And so into this world,
I came to be with love
that was given to me.
Though one of those
parents lives by me now,
and the other is gone
on to his heaven,
I pray he is still smiling
as he looks down at me
today, my birthday.

Dare to Dream

2005-09-14T07:55:00.000-07:00

Dare to dream.
Keep the impossible,
a close companion.
Think of flying,
with only your arms
held out wide.
Pull down the stars.
Sprinkle them onto
the moon as if it
was an ice-cream cone.
Eat the frosting,
off of your cake
when your birthday
arrives each year.
Scream and rant.
If you need to cry,
lean on someone.
Sweat with pain,
to do challenging
tasks in menial life
for the journey
is oft' the reward.
Giving up is giving in,
only when all light
has been consumed,
and even then reach,
reach high for anyone
to grasp your hand
to pull you out.
Love, even when
you think no one
will love you back,
for karma has a way
of paying you back
for all the good
you do in this life.
Stop to smell flowers,
and to eat pasta,
and to kiss babies,
even if you cannot
yourself produce life,
for in your love,
you give others nurturing.
Remember to always
dare to dream.

River of red

2005-09-13T07:45:00.000-07:00

The same river of red,
runs throughout all of us,
cut our flesh and we bleed,
hurt our feelings we cry,
with love we create life,
when time runs out we die.
So, how hard is it then,
to see how we unite,
bodies of varied hues,
all the same beneath skin,
all brothers and sisters,
in the river of red?

Anything but Myself

2005-09-12T11:40:00.000-07:00

If I was anything but myself,
would others take notice of me?
Would they see me if I was
a bright rainbow in a sunny sky,
take their hands to shield eyes
from the blinding sunshine?
If I was a golden blonde haired,
woman in ribbons of clothing,
would they stop to stare?
If I was a fluffy little puppy,
would they bend to pet me
and say cute things to me?
If I was anything but myself,
would I still be the same,
trying hard to gain attention,
yet still invisible like the rain?
If I was anything but myself,
perhaps beauty would remain.

Love is

2005-09-08T08:39:00.000-07:00

Love is always there, always.
Even in the darkest days,
even in the dimmest of times,
it is there beneath the veil.
Love is always the rock,
upon which all else stands,
keeping faith in all things,
relationships, belief, strong.
Love is never failing, never.
Even though life deals us blows,
when our house of cards falls,
it is wrapped tight around us.
Love is not going to die, lives on.
Even when brother kills brother,
and one war begets another,
it still creates new life which lives on.
Love is our hope, a shining flame.
Even when we think all is lost,
even when we despair,
in the midst of grief and chaos,
Love is all we need, love is.

Voldemort's Funeral (A Harry Potter Fan-Fic)

2005-09-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

The rain had been coming down in sheets washing every color from the streets except for the glow from the lamps lighting the street in front of the black house. Harry was pacing the hallway waiting for Ron to arrive. At last he heard a loud crackling sound and Ron apparated nearly on top of him waving a wand.
They hugged each other. It was so hard to believe that they were having to do this alone. They had dragged each other not some four months earlier away from the limp body of Hermione. She was another pawn in lord Voldemort's game, another nameless victim who got in his way. Harry knew Ron's heart was still fragile, still grieving so he hugged him again.
"He's gone and paid for his crimes you know," Harry said so sullenly that even he didn't sound convinced. He knew that somewhere else that people were grieving for someone who used to be a guy like him, someone named Tom Riddle, only Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort, someone who used his powers for evil, for destruction and finally had come to his end.

Snape flipped his cape and cleared his throat as he stood in front of so many of Voldemort's death eaters. It was time. Behind him lay the shiny black and red coffin with the slytherin crest in red on it's lid and someone lay inside it, the boy time had forgotten, Tom Riddle, the Man that time could not forget, Lord Voldemort.
Among the death eaters sat the Malfoys, all three of them with tears in their eyes. Kreacher sat crying profusely, so loudly that he could be heard over all the others there. Even a few ghosts of those death eaters who had died for him had shown up wailing and moving erily among the guests.
"Today we honor a man, someone who we all loved and had faith in." Snape began. "He showed us the real meaning of power, of magic. Let us all still honor him in his death. A new Lord of Darkness shall arise to fight the newest of the light ones and in him, we shall still see the ways that Voldemort has taught us all. We have not lost the battle. It shall continue till the earth is overcome."
Some werewolves upon hearing this threw up their muscular arms into fists and roared together.
At this Snape bent down and retrieved a small box. Within it was Voldemort's wand. He took it out and called forth Draco. Draco came up to claim his prize. "He would want you to have this," he whispered to the boy and gave it to him his eyes on him with some warmth of the bond between them.
"It is my honor." Draco said holding it high for all to see. "I shall continue the legacy and avenge his death." A cheer rang out from the crowd, loud and clear. Chanting began "Voldemort! Voldemort!"

Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and proceeded to place his invisibility cloak around them both as they mounted his broom and took off. They could have apparated but seeing as they had placed a protection spell around their destination they had to fly in. Time sped by until they were seeing the train tracks to hogwarts beneath them and finally the trees of the dark forest too. They decended quickly shaking rain from their hair, glasses, and robes.
People and creatures were all talking in great animation huddled beneath the trees as the rain pattered high overhead onto the big leaves. Ron and Harry kept wishing Hermione could have been here to see this event. A makeshift podium was there, leaning crookedly in the mud.
Harry found Neville and gathered him close. Then he eyed his friends and they all nodded silently to one another and the dim noise now became a hush. They splashed their way to the podium and began.
Harry began after a little ahem," So, sorry to have kept you all waiting. We are here tonight to celebrate the death of voldemort. We also mourn what might have been had a boy named Tom Riddle not chosen to embrace darkness instead of the light. He might have been a great avatar for us all and instead has killed many of our loved ones with his evil selfishness. Tonight we put those fears to rest. It is also tonight that we honor the real hero of this deed, Mr. Neville Longbottom." He pushed Neville to the microphone.
Neville looked aprehensive but began to speak softly and slowly,"We all know it has been a shock to see that the prophecy was not about my friend Harry Potter but about myself. I never saw it coming. But it is with humble pride that I accept this act of heroism on behalf of all who have..." he stuttered here, "who have, perished. I know that my grandmother is now at peace at last resting with my own parents." His lips quiverred and he began to cry now.
Ron came to the podium next also with timid steps. "We would like to also honor Neville's grandmother, and our dear friend Hermoine Granger, who without her research into Voldemort's weakness we would never have succeeded. We,"his voice cracked here," we will miss her." His cheeks turned bright red. He eyed his mother in the audience and regained some of his courage. "Harry has let me do the honor of giving you this Neville, as you deserve it, and we all know you'll need it." He opened a pine box and took out a gnarled wand.
A gasp of surprise ran through the crowd. Hagrid snuffled and smiled happily, both saddened at recognizing Dumbledore's wand, and happy to know that Lord Voldemort was finally gone for good.
Ron continued," Harry and I knew that you would need this wand to continue the path of hope, justice, and love. Remember well, that Dumbledore had a kind heart but often that softness blinded him to the wrongdoings around him. Be stronger and aware Neville for there may come a time when you may have to use this wand." He handed it to him and a cheer ran through the crowd.
Harry, Ron, and Neville took a bow and instead of cheering too, stepped down gracefully from the podium to keep the silence of those who had fallen in Dumbledore's name, in the name of goodness. They mounted their brooms and knew that one day, someone with Voldemort's strength and selfishness could arise, but they knew it would not be him. In that they took some comfort. To the cheer and waves from the crowd, they pushed off and flew into the night.

First Night of Grief

2005-09-06T11:55:00.000-07:00

She kneels on bended knee,
and whispers a small prayer,
bring him back to me, please,
is all that she asks for that night,
wondering if she will make it,
if she can manage to find sleep,
without his arms tight around,
his should to rest her head on,
his warm hands to wipe the tears,
rubbing at the wedding ring,
still warm on her own finger,
his dangling on a necklace.
She holds his ring in her hand,
and numbly raises it to kiss,
wishing it was his lips instead.
She knows she is being foolish,
but that small action brings comfort,
and with it a small sigh of relief,
for the ache is not so tight in her chest.
She gets up and sits on the bed,
then carefully slowly tucks in
her legs then her arms in the
big and empty bed around her,
and waits for the tears to dry,
but they keep falling as she closes,
her eyes and wishes for the dreams
to begin so she can just pretend
that he is still there with her,
still holding her close, forever.

A Letter From a Father to His Son

2005-09-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

Laying in the dust beneath the bed,
is a dirty yellowed envelope,
forgotten by time and the reader.
When it was read, bombs were in the air,
and it was opened with shakey hands,
by a boy no older than twelve years,
wearing his overalls and cowboy hat.
Dear son, if you are reading this,
then you know I'm not coming back.
I want you to know I'm proud of you
and for taking care of your mother
while I defend this big country.
You will do well in life and go on
to do bigger and better things,
than just to go to school everyday
and tease your younger sister.
I think you have the potential
to be a doctor or a highschool teacher.
Follow your dreams for they live
and come true if you do that.
If I hadn't I wouldn't have married
that wonderful mother of yours,
and you wouldn't be there for me.
I love you son. I'll always be there
for you in your heart and memories.
With much love, your father.
Now that letter lies in the same house,
under the same bed as the boy's,
only now it is his own son's bed,
and it is there because that's where
the grandson had decided to hide it
after finding it in his father's chest.
More letters may be sent from this
father to this son in the future,
sent with the same amount of love
because he has told his son about
the dad he had who died in a war,
a dad who loved him no matter what
and he was proud of his grandfather,
so he took the letter to keep it safe,
so he could tell his own son one day
about his grandfather, the hero.

Hopscotch

2005-09-01T08:20:00.000-07:00

She laughs in a small low laugh,
almost in a whisper now,
as she looks out of her window,
watching the children playing
hopscotch, drawing in chalk
upon the summer heated sidewalk,
in shades of blues and greens.
She remembers her youth,
as she sips her tea from a china cup,
feeling her body now unable to hop,
wanting to hop with the children,
giggling and whooping together.
She hears the sing-song rhymes
that she chanted with her friends,
the clatter of dice and clapping hands,
all in the cobwebs of her mind
while seeing their mouths form
those same words that she sang.
The first drops of rain patter lightly
upon the window sill and pane
and she sees the children gather
their chalk, jumpropes, and games,
running down the street scattering
till no one is left but the falling rain.
She sees the giant squares in color
start to wash away into puddles,
and the disappear, like her youth,
like her friends and her memories
she thinks, as a tear drops into tea,
and a raindrop into puddles outside.
She waits for the rain to finally end,
for the sun to come out and dry
the puddles where the boxes were,
so she can catch glimpses of the kids,
glimpses of herself playing hopscotch.

Miracle of Life

2005-08-31T08:25:00.000-07:00

No bigger than a mustard seed,
no bigger than a small fish,
swimming in a sea of life,
a sea deep inside of someone,
who lied in a loving state,
entwined with another body,
two cells then come to unite,
in a natural synchonism,
like pollen to a stamen,
lifted by the body of a bee,
love unlimited into two cells,
creating life from their love,
no bigger than a mustard seed.

Life will go on

2005-08-29T08:06:00.000-07:00

I know that when I close my eyes,
you are there and alive and near,
and yet I've always believed,
that sleep does separate us.
But I know that in the morning,
when I awake that you are there,
smiling at me, loving me, seeing me,
and I love to know you're there.
But I've always had this awful fear,
that I won't wake to see you again,
or if I do that you will not awake,
during a final sleep that will part us.
I have to have faith I'll see you,
again in the next life to come,
or that the energy that fills us both,
will combine into one in the next.
And I have to realize that life goes on,
and you would want me to go on,
to find love, even if it is never as powerful,
or as strong and the one we share,
together in this marriage of ours.
And though I wouldn't want to let go,
to leave life and watch you from afar,
go on to love somebody else, not me,
not me you'd touch and kiss, I'd have to.
I'd have to let you go on and love,
because love always keeps on going,
and I'd be content knowing you'll
still love me far more than anyone else.
My love, you have shown me so much,
taught me so much together in the world,
that not to go on would be an insult,
you would want me to keep living,
to learn to be happy and enjoy things,
so this is a promise to you this very day,
that should I wake one day to see you gone,
that I will not disappear as well,
but will hold the love we share in my heart,
for all time until we will meet again,
and instead of curling up in a dark corner,
I will learn to love again, learn to go on,
for you, my love, and for the love we share.
So this is vow that death will not prevail,
but precious as it is, life will go on.

The Stuff of Nightmares

2005-08-26T08:15:00.000-07:00

The stuff of nightmares is made,
of heavy guilt ridden phrases,
poured into the innocent mind,
of a small and malleable child,
open to the brainwashing,
open to the fear tacticts,
of those in the heavy robes,
carrying books and chalices,
or teachers in their classrooms,
handing out photocopies,
of mechanical phrases repeated,
or parents with hands clasped
kneeling at the child's bedside,
praying ferverently for saving.
Do not do this or do that,
only do this and only do that,
or else you shall feel wrath,
or else you shall be hated,
or else you shall be forgotten,
thrown away into an eternal
wastebin for sinning souls.
Light chases it away briefly,
in the middle of the dark night,
when the adult who was the child,
awakens from another nightmare,
terrified too scared to sleep again.
But when the darkness comes,
it starts again plaguing the mind,
keeping relationships at bay,
making the person too afraid,
to be the person that she want to be,
free and separate from the binds,
that tethered her to childhood.

Ode to My Husband

2005-08-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know how you love me,
with all of my inconsistencies,
with all of the flaws G-d gave me,
but you do it without grievance.
You know when I'm anxious,
when I'm riddled with worry,
when I need a nice long cry,
when I need a good loud laugh.
I cannot tell you just how much,
I appreciate all you do for me,
the extent of your affection,
the feel of your lips on mine.
My love, my dearest, I love you,
so much that I'd do anything,
that I'd give anything to keep,
you so close to me that I never,
have to wonder where you are.
The hours we are apart sometimes
feel like they are days or weeks,
and I long for the minute to see you,
and to feel myself in your arms,
while you hold me tenderly.
I look forward to our old days,
when we are elderly and retired,
sipping sweet drinks in the sun,
relaxed and warm, laughing still.
I'm so glad that we found each other,
and that despite the bad times,
the good times shine through.
My love, my husband, I love you.

I am Ready

2005-08-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

I am ready to go with you,
let you carry me where you will.
I will call you what I will,
that is something I cannot change.
I see you as all pervading,
Elohim in all your greatness.
I see you as Hashem,
a God to guide my decisions.
I will not let a church nor temple,
lead me where I will not go.
I will let you do that for me,
opening the path in the jungle.
I will let you carry me afloat,
upon the current that is life.
I will not struggle to fight it,
but let you help me to relax.
I will not worry for the future,
no more concerns that keep me up.
I will place that into your hands,
where I know I will be safe.
I will not follow blindly others,
but live outside the religious box.
I will pray to you instead,
just as I have always done.
I will learn and pray in thanksgiving,
and not in bitter jealousy.
I am living my life in the here,
not waiting for the later to begin.
I am loving and not hating,
the life you've lovingly given me.
Thank you, Adonai. Thank you.
I will keep these eyes open,
no longer blind will I be.
Amen

Maybe I'll Stop Wishing

2005-08-18T07:36:00.000-07:00

Maybe if I thanked you more often,
for all the things you've done for me,
then perhaps I wouldn't be so sullen,
about the things you haven't done.
Maybe I'd be sillier and happier,
if I'd just let go of all the worrying,
and pass that all onto your care,
instead of taking it all on myself.
Maybe If I'd just pray to trust in you,
instead of in myself and others,
then you would take care of me,
in ways that I didn't think I'd see.
Maybe I want my life to be different,
from the one you've given to me,
but perhaps this is just what I need,
versus everything I've ever wanted.
Maybe if you could make the jealousy,
leave this hard heart and sick brain,
I'd recognize that every person,
wasn't meant to live their lives the same.
Maybe Lord, if I let down that wall,
and decide instead to let you in,
that things could be better instead,
of all of the time that I spend wishin'.
Maybe time can heal the wounds,
that the church has placed in my heart,
and I can try to come back to you,
to the way that things used to be.
Maybe, just maybe I can be happy.

Dreaming of Better Weather

2005-08-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

I thought that the weather would change,
that the sun would stay around longer,
and that it would dry up all of the rain,
chase the clouds far away into the future,
but that was not going to be the case.
Instead grey skies persisted for several days,
and my sinus headache grew increasingly worse,
the light in the buildings affecting my eyes,
and my mood went to sour and grouchy.
The sandbars and aqua waters on my screen,
seem like nothing more than daydreams,
like watercolors being washed away,
in the dreariness of the white grey of day.
I want it to disappear at least for a while,
to let the sun come out and play with us,
so that the mushrooms growing in the dirt,
outside the house cannot grow and spread
their mold to aggravate my allergies.
Puddles are nice to play in for a short time,
but after a while become quite a nuisance.
And raindrops can be beautiful falling softly,
but can be dangerous in a heavy downfall.
So, until the sun does come back out,
and dry up this water soaked land,
I will keep dreaming of a nice warm beach,
and my toes in nice warm sun-baked sand.

Words to Live by

2005-08-15T07:59:00.000-07:00

Keep your thoughts to yourself,
if they are not good ones to share,
leave those behind and look on,
to the new horizon of hopefulness.
Keep your head high when grim,
and dim days seem to surround you,
and you think you cannot go on,
but you know you are that strong.
Smile when you feel like it,
instead of hiding it inside a shell,
where no one can see it shine,
to laugh with you till you cry.
Tell jokes and giggle like a child,
when the moment hits you,
or sing out loud with the music,
so that your whole soul is dancing.
Love like you've never loved before,
keeping those close to you in sight,
sharing in the tiniest moments,
together among friends and family,
and even those you want to know.
Read a book to your children,
smell the roses on your daily walk,
dip your toes in the water's edge,
and never kill a caterpillar if you can.
Keep your temper when you're mad,
and hug someone when you're not.
Leave love notes inside lunch bags
or whisper I love you's instead.
Don't forget that life is always changing,
and change is the only consistent thing,
and that all that happens is for a reason,
so trust in the universe that holds fate.
Live your life and don't let it live you.

(A lil' Harry Potter Fan Fiction) Hermione and Ronald Tie the Knot

2005-08-13T05:06:00.000-07:00

Everything had been set for the big day. Hermione had been fidgeting all morning, unable to eat she was so nervous. Even the tea, toast, and eggs that Mrs. Weasley had made for her were sitting cold on the table. She knew that the bride mustn't see the groom and visa versa on their wedding day so, she went along with the plans the others had for them the night before and day of so that they would avoid each other. But still she missed him already. Mrs. Weasley had made up a room for her at the burrow and Ron would be staying at the Black home with Harry for the evening before and the duration of the morning prior to the wedding.
They had been staying together in a flat in London, quite close to the bell tower where Ron's owl liked to visit. It was a lovely little flat, cozy with all of the amenities. In fact it had a nice terrace too where she liked to go in the morning and take her tea and newspaper to have a spot of breakfast. There was even a cute garden in the back of the building where she and Ronald would walk in the evenings taking in the cool summer night air, and sometimes even play together as if they were still children in mountains of winter snow. She never knew he could be so romantic, buying her flowers and teapots, and even her favorite books. They had a nice collection now of books, potion making, cookbooks, and even electronics. Ron had been quite inspired by muggle technology, just as Arthur had been.
They had been living there together for a little over a year. Hermione was deliriously happy. She was working in a museum as a tour guide and part time researcher for the magical society, teaching small children about the history of magic. There was even a small part of the museum set off in honor of her good friend Harry and his honorable deeds he'd done while they were all in school together at hogwarts. She loved her work so much and loved the freedom it gave her to keep learning. On the plus side was the ability to work with children. One day, Ron came by to see her for a lunch break. She couldn't stop grinning from seeing him there to see her.
It'd been such a wonderful day. He had a small silk pouch in his hand and a single rose which he proceeded to extract from no where and place upon the bench they were sitting upon. He took her hand in his and said a beautiful speech, complete with his stuttering which came from nerves, something she found so endearing. She found herself saying yes to his proposal of her hand in marriage. She'd been dreaming of this day for so long, dreaming of a life with him and all of the little babies they would have together. He place a ring onto her finger. It shined brilliantly in the noon day sun. On it was a pink diamond. It was his grandmother's ring he had told her and hoped she liked it. Liked it? She adored it and him and told him as much.
"You do realize that we're going to have to have at least five children don't you?" She told him giddy now from the excitement.
"Of course I do, Hermione. It's all I've ever wanted is a big family, like my own. Especially one with you." he replied and kissed her tenderly.
So, the events had been set in motion. Harry was to be the best man. All of Ronald's brothers would be ushers. Ginny would be the maid of honor. Fluer would be a bride's maid, along with Cho and Lavender, and a woman she knew from work named Ellen. She had chosen a dress in a nice shade of green instead of white. And for her entourage, their dresses would be an orchid color. She chose lilies and some willow greens for the flowers. As for the location, they were going to be married right at the burrow, in the huge garden there. Mrs. Weasley had taken it upon herself to cater the event, and had even chosen to manage it too, caring to fuss over her daughter-in-law to be.
Now, all she had to do was get ready for the day was nigh. If only she could eat. I can do this, she kept telling herself. Arthur, had even given her money to buy some contacts to get rid of the glasses for a day. The house elves were bustling around preparing food and dishes of all manner. She made her way to the room she'd slept in and pulled out the dress. Ginny was grinning at her foolishly, placing her foot into a stocking.
"I"ll help you when I'm done here." She said to her. "Mom said she would do your hair, but I think it should be Fluer since she's so good at it. She'll be here within the hour. It said so on the clock downstairs."
"Okay then." Hermione let out with a nervous breath. "Let me get that zipper for you."
An hour later, clad in her green silk dress, she sat in a cushioned chair while Fluer played with her hair. "It's no good." she'd said and called Tonks on her magic phone. "Be right there." Tonks said and no sooner had said it than had apparated on the spot with her wand in hand. She waved it and mumbled a few things and Hermione's hair sprung into a shiny mass of curls with flowers throughout it. A gasp of surprise followed by a huge thank you and hugs all around.
Ginny and Hermione were left alone. "Are you sure it's my brother you want to be with forever?" Ginny asked her quietly. "If you can't go through with it, you just let me know." And Hermione was sure, and happy that Ginny had proceeded to help her with this gigantic last minute thinking. Now all she had to do was wait her cue while her bridesmaids gathered downstairs and the guests began coming in droves.
Meanwhile, Ron was fussing with his bowtie in the mirror at Harry's. "Are you sure I don't look an idiot?" He'd asked Harry.
"Of course you do, Ron. All grooms look like idiots on their wedding day. It's part of the plan. You look superb, splendid." He said straightening his own tie, cumberbund, and cloak.
"Ron, you're sure you want to do this right?" He asked his best friend.
"Yes, I do you ol' chap. Come here." And he gave Harry a hand shake and pulled him into a big bear hug. "Thanks for being here an' all."
"Couldn't let you do this alone. Come on. Time to apparate. Are you ready?"
"Yeah. But Harry, you don't think Hagrid will loose the ring do ya? I mean, he is going to be the ring bearer mind you and I don't know if he can keep from loosing it."
"He'll have it. Don't you worry now. Let's go. You've a bride to marry don't you?" Harry smirked and patted his friend on the back and they apparated together.

They appeared on the lawn at the burrow, which was decked out in many floral arrangements and chairs and tables. A giant canopy was there to stand under. They took their places eyeing each other for courage the entire time. Hagrid stood nearby and winked at Ron and grinning at him. A house elf Hermione had saved was there and playing a harp. Rose petals drifted down magically from the sky along with bubbles. After a short while the train of people came out, walking happily down the aisle. And then, there she was, the love of his life his Hermione and Ron felt his breath leave him taking in her beauty. Her mother and father came and her father now escorted her down the isle towards the canopy.
"Dearly beloved," Percy began who was now minister of magic "We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of these two people in matrimony. May the magic that binds them be a testament to their love today and the rest of their lives." People sighed and started crying.
"Ronald Weasley, do you take this woman, in sickness and in health, good times and bad, for richer or poorer, to be your wife, all the rest of your days, till death does part you?" Percy asked.
"I do." He said.
"Hermione Granger, do you take this man, in sickness and in health, good times and bad, for richer or poorer, to be your husband, all the rest of your days, till death does part you?"
"I do." She blushed.
"The couple has prepared some vows they would like to say now."
"Hermione, since the first day I saw you I knew there was something special about you, something magical. I knew more than anything that you would be my best friend. What I didn't know was that you would be my love as well. I love you Hermione." He said.
Hagrid blew his nose loudly and Mrs. Weasley was crying profusely now.
"Ronald, I knew that you were always there for me, whenever I needed a friend. You were someone I have always confided in and someone I fortunately grew to love. I look forward to our future together and our family. I'll always love you." She gushed out grinning the whole time.
Harry stood nearby and his heart pounded hard. He looked over at Ginny wondering if it would be them up here one day soon. He loved her so much. He didn't want to think of the three of them, himself, Ron, and Hermione loosing their friendship to this new arrangement of marriage between Ron and Hermione. So he didn't. He knew he'd always be a part of their lives. Afterall, Ron had already told him that he'd be making him godfather of their children just as soon as there was one in the oven. Harry found himself smiling at the thought of being around his best friends' children and he their godfather, just as Sirius had been his godfather.
"If the rings could be brough forth." Percy said.
Hagrid fished around in his giant pockets. He handed the rings to the couple.
Hermione placed hers on Ron's hand and repeated after Percy saying, "with this ring, my love surrounds you and will never leave you."
Ron did the same with her saying,"with this ring, my love surrounds you and will never leave you."
"It is with great pleasure that I give you Mr. and Mrs. Ronald and Hermione Weasley. May their love never end. You may kiss the bride."
Ronald did, with a great passion for her. "I'm so glad you're my wife now." he whispered. She blushed completely.

The party was a complete success. They toasted and cut the cake, a deliciously warm velvety cake and fed one another. They danced and dance till they were so tired that they could barely remain alert. They had decided that they would be going to the states for their honeymoon, to a place named Disney World. Arthur was so jealous, demanding that Ron bring him back all of the souvenirs and post cards that he could. So when it had gotten late in the day, Hagrid had brought around Buckbeak. The griffin was laden with a luggage rack and a beautiful white and green saddle and harness. They got on, Ron helping her. Harry had decided as part of their wedding present he would loan them Buckbeak to have a romantic ride on to their honeymoon. "I want pictures." Ron's mother yelled once they were airborne and all were waving to them.
The honeymoon suite was breathtaking and overlooked three swimming pools and the amusement park too. They had both seen so much on the ride into the hotel. They had sent buckbeak flying back to Harry once they had descended invisibly in a park nearby and took their luggage up. The bed was huge and scattered rose petals lay everywhere. They knew that they were being very untraditional taking up a muggle honeymoon location instead of one where they could use their magic and not have to worry. But they had decided no magic on this honeymoon for their love was good enough.
They ordered room service and ate a wonderfully romantic meal of fruit and cheeses. Hermione drew a bath and soaked for a while taking it all in. And then they retired for the evening into the down comforter and listened to the hum of the muggle contraption the air conditioner. They kissed and kissed. There was no stopping them.
"Are you ready for the rest of your life with me?" Hermione asked him tenderly as they lay there sleepily.
"Are you kidding me? It began a long time ago, love." He said gingerly and with a broad grin that filled his whole face."
"Then get over here, Ronald, and make me a mother," She said happily.
"Sure," he said and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her so tenderly. Then he turned out the light with a soft clicking sound and their dreams began.

Writer

2005-08-12T08:35:00.000-07:00

How you play with me,
pull on my heartstrings,
and make me dance for you,
in rhythm to the cadence,
of each sweet long word,
lacing a romantic book,
or make me chilled with,
heart racing now wildly,
against a man-made fear,
induced by haunting phrases,
confined within a horror novel,
or making me perched,
with stopped breath,
upon the edge of my chair,
waiting to see if the killer,
will be caught by the FBI,
or get away with all he's done,
chased by gunslung words,
in a cop showdown thriller.
I am yours to seduce or chill,
or thrill, or command by mere
play of the words you write.
For a short time or long time,
you take me far far away,
from the dullness of each day,
and make each one brand new,
so that I'm part of something
exciting and breathtaking.
To you, I salute you, the writer.

Your Love

2005-08-10T08:16:00.000-07:00

I can do so much with your love,
because it sustains me like no other.
You love me despite my flaws,
despite my constant nagging ways.
I love the little things you do,
to show me how you love me:
like making me breakfast in bed,
and brushing my unruly hair.
You're gently with me when I'm mad,
about things that have nothing to do
with you and our relationship,
and everything to do with other people.
I think of this love during the day,
and know that I'm safe in it's arms,
in your arms and in your love.
Thank you my dearest for your love.

Team Work

2005-08-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

Don't tell me how to fix the problem,
if you already know how,
since it would really help me,
instead of telling me after the fact.
There is no planning ahead 'round here,
no what if's or what should's.
I see only the me in team,
no you and I present, together.
Don't make me do something,
and then not make sure I understand,
something I should have,
because the system isn't right,
and is broken, unable to be used.
There is no team work when we don't
work together as a team. Team.
Just another day of struggling,
on my own. On my own.

Wash me Ashore

2005-08-08T08:11:00.000-07:00

Wash me ashore,
onto crystalline sands,
from this endless ocean,
I'm a drop of water,
floating among the others,
forever bobbing along,
carried by the current,
sucked under by the tow,
seared by the sun's gleam,
waiting for the arrival,
of the end of the journey,
to redeem better days,
days of luck and promise,
standing on steady legs,
upon the fine white beach,
grounded in the density,
shining brilliantly in the sun.

Prayer of Fire

2005-08-05T14:09:00.000-07:00

Soften my heart and let it love
all of those around me near and far,
despite their trespasses against me,
despite how some don't like me.
Melt the ice which freezes,
into a protective wall to keep out,
the awful words slung at me,
because it keeps love from leaving.
Place in me a spirit of love,
like a warm candle in the dark,
so that all will see me shining,
an example to the rest of the world.
Do not let me cower in fear,
afraid to try to love one another,
so afraid of other's words of hurt,
that I do not let myself shine.
Purify me with a holy fire,
so that the scales begin to even,
weighing light and dark evening,
in my heart parallel to your own.
This is my poetic prayer today,
keep it safe, let it fly away,
so long as it reaches your ears,
and the eyes of others who love.

Murder in the Dark

2005-08-05T10:27:00.000-07:00

She waits beneath the full moon,
panting as silently as she can,
in a shadowed alley by a bar,
watching the mice scurry past.
Tears shining stain her pale cheeks,
and her clothes hang long and ragged.
Her stomach growls loudly,
but she just ignores the hard sound.
When will she come back,
and when exactly had she left her?
Shouts still echo in her mind,
reminding her of their words.
Run and do not let them find you.
Isn't that what she said to her?
The panic and adrenaline beat,
fast and hard and then die down,
as a wave of nausea hits hard,
and an awful clarity comes to mind.
She's not coming back. Ever.
And I'm stuck here in this place,
In this mucky, stinky, cavern.
That's when the clarity calms her,
to the point of no return,
and revenge sinks its fangs in.
Run, she will run and run,
until the revenge hits its mark,
and she will find a new peace.

Urban Forest

2005-08-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

I know you saw me flitting,
across that hot brick pavement,
the other day in the evening.
I wanted to perch somewhere,
anywhere but there was no wood,
no trees, nothing but concrete,
glass, asphalt, and hot brick.
I thought there would be dirt,
where I could peck for worms,
but all I saw were some ants,
running in the cracks on the brick.
They didn't look tasty to me.
I flew up to find an eve to rest under,
way up above the glass door,
where I saw you standing, watching.
I found nothing but concrete again,
with no place to rest my feet.
I had hoped that in this wasteland,
of corporate buildings, parking lots,
and man made ponds and falls,
that I could see something of forest,
beneath the ugly urban facade.
But the facade was not fake.
It really had replaced the trees,
the rich clay soil and water,
into this place where I must dwell,
this place I call the urban forest.

Rag Doll

2005-08-01T08:27:00.000-07:00

I know you loved me,
even though I wasn't glamorous,
even though I wasn't asked for,
on your list at Christmas time.
I remember how you cried,
and poured your heart out,
so that only I could hear,
how you had suffered so in life,
still so young and innocent.
You laid your head on me,
placing it upon my chest,
and sobbed so much I ached.
I remember how you took,
my arms full of stuffing,
and wrapped them around you,
because nobody else would,
when you were feeling sad.
I hated to think I was your
sole comfort in your sadness.
But I also loved how much
you needed me and loved me.
I saw with how much care,
you stitched up my seams,
where I began to tear holes,
into the thin cloth at my joints.
And though I was scarred now,
with all of those thread stitches,
you loved me even more.
Don't forget me my dear child,
because this rag doll still loves you,
lost and lying in a bag with others.
Oh how I still remember and care.

Monarch Butterfly

2005-07-28T08:17:00.000-07:00

I breath my first breath,
one I haven't taken since
I took to a very long sleep.
I felt myself changing,
growing, and developing.
Then that morning I awoke,
and realized that I had wings.
They were wings that momma
had told me I would get,
when I was just a little larva.
She had told me she would
have to leave me to grow.
The world was so cold when
I was just a child still,
chewing on the soft leaves.
And then I wrapped myself
up to go to sleep and dream.
Now awake, I stretch a lot,
and rub my new wings together.
Past my open chrysalis flies
another who looks just like I do.
He says to come with him,
but I am so afraid to try.
I leap and the wind is under me,
under my wings lifting me.
I let go and laugh and cry.
I now know what momma
had felt like when she flew.
And I am going on a journey,
the journey of a monarch,
just like my ancestors did.
I am so beautiful and great.
See me soar. See me fly.

Flowers at a Gravestone

2005-07-26T08:09:00.000-07:00

Every second Tuesday she comes,
with flowers in her long arms,
and lays them ceremoniously,
down upon the dry brittle grass.
She brushes the petals softly,
with her manicured fingertip.
I can sense her longing,
her saddened silence.
And I look at her start to cry.
There is nothing I can do for her,
this stone engraved with letters.
Though she and I both know,
that her loved one is long gone,
only broken bones in fragments,
lay ensconced in creaky wood,
deep beneath the wormy soil.
Yet still she comes to hope,
that the soul will see her flowers,
those gorgeous dying flowers,
flowers at a gravestone.

Tossed out Poem

2005-07-26T05:16:00.000-07:00

In pieces I lay here,
tattered remnants,
of a poem in ink,
forgotten, forlorn.
It stinks in here.
Apple cores and lint,
hair and other paper,
litter this rubbish bin,
where I have to stay.
I wait in silence,
to be taken to a larger,
garbage dumpster,
to at last be buried,
and finally put to rest.

Mother Nature

2005-07-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

I am kissed by the sun,
wrapped in cool green ivy.
I play beneath the willows,
with the chipmunk and birds.
I sing with the mockingbird,
and swim in the falls with fish.
I read and write in caves,
with stone upon the walls.
I am warmed by crisp twigs,
rubbed together to make fire,
grateful for the trees that shake,
and loose their limbs in wind.
I make shelter from leaves,
and fronds, and create ropes.
I eat berries, fruit, nuts, grain,
from the plentiful forests.
I am comforted by mother,
as she cries her tears of rain.
I am free in the land of nature,
a land forgotten by man.

Star Catcher

2005-07-21T07:59:00.000-07:00

Star catcher, catch me a star,
bring it to me from afar,
and let is shine so bright,
to keep me from all fright.
Shatter it into star dust,
to make me feel gold lust.
Meld it into a shiny ring,
so beautiful I could sing.
Crack it into tiny drops,
set in jars with small tops,
where they can dance nigh,
like luminescent fire flies.
Heat it into a grain of sand,
which I can place in my hand,
to make a great wish upon
which after wooshes away gone.
Star catcher, fly up so high.
Catch me a star to wonder by.

See the Beauty

2005-07-20T08:13:00.000-07:00

See the beauty of a still lake,
of the sun going down at dusk,
of fireflies flitting in the weeds,
of people laughing together,
of the clouds before a storm,
of raindrops on very dry soil,
of children swimming happily,
of ancient songs still played,
of classic books still read,
of a mother and child bonding,
of lovers kissing passionately,
of dreamers dreaming endlessly,
of those hungry being fed,
of those tired given a warm bed,
of leaders striving for world peace,
of the first harvest of the year,
of dinner together with family,
of a hug from a close friend,
and of the beauty of imagination.
See the beauty.
Feel it throughout the day.
Let it brighten your way.
Hold a grain of sand in hand,
and realize how they make glass.
Stand in wonder of the world.
See the beauty.

Grateful

2005-07-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

I must remember to be grateful,
for all the little things.
Like the first day of autumn,
and the last day of spring.
For the clothing that I wear,
and the music that I hear.
I must be thankful for the love,
from my family and friends.
And for the fragrant flowers,
that bloom in the courtyard,
though they give me allergies.
I must be grateful for food,
which sustains and nourishes,
which pleases the pallet,
and calms and excites my body.
The silence at the end of day,
the hum of the fan in the window,
a small sweet kiss from husband,
and the purring hug from the cat,
are all little things I don't
recognize all help to brighten
my day that much more.
The sun streaming in the window,
unto the floor of my cubicle,
The caramel candy dissolving,
into the heat of my mouth,
and a book to read at lunchtime,
are things for which to be grateful.
Grateful, I must remember to be.

Hating me.

2005-07-18T11:35:00.000-07:00

Go away, you scum,
from where you came.
Leave me alone.
You won't have your way.
Sink back into the shadows,
you filthy creature,
who comes only to torment
me with your ugly words,
words of hate and bitterness.
Do you know how I loathe you,
you sneaky little creep?
Slither away and stay there.
Don't drag me into darkness.
I don't want to hear your words
or agree with their sour notes.
Harlot, cow, rainbringer, you
harbinger of all that stinks,
leave my mind in peace!
Peace. Peace.
You do not know the word.
Instead you tell me I am fat,
ugly, useless, a failure, unwanted,
unloved, a burden, a slut, a sloth.
You keep whispering these things,
these awful things in my mind,
but I don't want to succumb.
I hear, but I don't want to,
don't want to keep stopping the tears
that well up in my eyes,
eyes which must remain fixed
to my work, to those around me,
eyes which must stay calm and
make everyone think I am fine.
Fine. Fine.
Do you hear? I am fine.
Let me go for a time,
just enough to breathe,
to work, and play, and love.
I say a time because you'll be back,
and when you do you'll push me down,
lower until I am sinking in your filth.
When I hear you I become angry.
Angry. Angry.
I hate you and your reflection,
because you look like me,
like me, but you are not me.
You are only part of me,
a malfunction, a sin, a flaw, a dark
voice ringing in the night,
hating yourself. Hating me.

Headache

2005-07-15T05:15:00.000-07:00

Headache, Headache go away.
Don't come again another day.

Puzzle

2005-07-11T11:39:00.000-07:00

Thank you for working side by side,
on my puzzle with me last night.
I didn't want to try do it alone,
even though I knew that I could.
My own life has been like a puzzle,
cut out shapes from moments in time.
I thought every piece is just my own,
but some of them are pieces of you.
You helped to shape me, to put me together,
with all your kindness, love, and time.
You gave to me pieces of yourself,
that you couldn't share with any other.
For that, I am unable to stand alone,
for without you I would be incomplete,
just a puzzle with the borders around,
and many missing pieces on the inside,
put together similarly to all of the rest,
but so fragile that I'd fall apart if picked up.
But with you to help hold me together,
I am strong and my life is complete.
This puzzle of mine is a beautiful picture,
when viewed from the outside,
but on the inside jagged and torn pieces.
You have helped me to see the picture
of my unique beauty within the puzzle.
I see the pieces of you within it,
surrounding me with pieces from yours.
We are one big puzzle, you and I,
made from the two smaller ones.
And, it is a wonderful and amazing image,
nothing but lines on cardboard on one side,
and a work of art and progress on the other.

Love is all we Need

2005-07-08T11:45:00.000-07:00

Love is all we need to grow,
to make world peace flow,
from one person to another,
each sister and each brother.

Love makes hate go away,
and helps us in every way,
to see beyond the surface,
and the hearts full of grace.

Love is like a glue the bonds,
starting with a seed and fronds,
spreading outward like the sea,
reaching everyone we can see.

Love starts from around us,
from a source that loves us,
and seals us in a gentle dome,
creating for us a loving home.

No Name

2005-07-05T05:11:00.000-07:00

No name could do you justice,
for the things we do not know,
how you made the mountains,
how you make it rain and snow.
No name should be your symbol,
the power to do as you wish,
to control the seasons the weather,
to control the animals, birds, fish.
No name would completely tell,
the entire story that you hold,
of how you and the world began,
and how you created the mold.
Your name is not important,
it is the faith in the things unseen,
like knowing that I'm cared for,
through all the things I've seen.

Incubus

2005-06-29T04:54:00.000-07:00

Stay away from me, you tempter,
you incubus, you dark thief of the night,
kidnapping my thoughts with passion,
with betrayal and with manners of delight.
Keep back with those lips of heat,
the fierce fire of desire within your eyes,
the way you know what touches move me,
and bring forth from within my sighs.
Don't push me to the limits of mortal sins,
to a place where adrenaline replaces fear,
of going to beyond all rational thought,
wondering if all those around me will hear.
Will hear the words of desire consume me,
will hear the bites of their betrayal and love,
if those powers who I have prayed to forever,
will not forgive and condemn or send me above.
I have no power over you to do as I will,
so I beg of you have mercy and leave my sight,
with your rapturous, tempting, visions,
and never come back this night or any other night.

The Dream

2005-06-28T11:47:00.000-07:00

I haven't thought of you in so long,
you've been a distant memory,
always there in the back of my mind,
floating there almost hauntingly.
And then last night you came to me,
like the angelic presence that you were,
and hugged me like I wanted you to,
and smiled at me with those blue eyes.
Your kisses were sweet and warm,
and held within all that we wanted to say
to each other way back when we couldn't.
I had loved you so much and still do,
that I would've done anything for you,
my dearest, closest, friend, my love.
If you had been thinking of me last night,
please know that I really loved the dream.

Remember Me

2005-06-21T05:13:00.000-07:00

Remember me,
when I am not there,
to hug and hold you.
Remember me,
when the tears are gone,
and the heart doesn't beat.
Remember me,
when you hold a picture,
of the way it used to be.
Remember me,
when you read the words,
that I wrote to you in poems.
Remember me,
the sound of my laughter,
and the sound of my cries.
I hope you remember me,
for when I have crossed over,
I don't know if They will let me,
Remember you.

Twilight

2005-06-17T18:23:00.000-07:00

Ah, sweet twilight how peaceful,
and serene are you coming slowly,
between the fall of the sun and,
the rise of the shining white moon.
Milky grey shimmers in the sky.
Silver glows upon the windowsill,
and upon the slats in the blinds.
Long shadows run along the walls,
and onto the walk where lamposts,
start their nightly illumination.
Fireflies begin their dusky flight,
and the stars appear shrouded in,
the milky white film of grey clouds.
As the sun goes down on the horizon,
it casts a smooth orange and pink
hue upon the outer edge between,
the darkening earth and grey-white sky,
creating a watercolor natural mural.
And that setting sun cools the air,
creating a sensuous breeze that
creates shivers and goosebumps,
compared to the heat of the day.
A great hush falls over the land,
in this welcoming peacefulness,
which warms the daily stressed heart
as the twilight cools the thirsty skin.

Everyday Miracles

2005-06-16T05:00:00.000-07:00

There are miracles happening every day.
They come from the natural cycles of life.
They do not have to come from a deity,
for nature and science are their own power,
creating life and destroying it in their own way.

A woman on the street homeless and cold,
is fed a warm meal and given a nice bed,
by people who reach out to those who have less,
and because of this she lives to enjoy another day.

Two people who believe they are in love,
unite their two bodies in a testament to it,
and in turn mix two cells to create a new life,
which can in it's turn grow to do the same thing.

A person with cancer lies in a hospital bed,
surrounded by friends, family, and staff,
and comes out of a coma and treated with
medicine to live a long a prosperous life.

A teenager on a dark and lone road is stranded,
until a stranger happening to see her on walk,
comes to her aid to fix the car out of a generous heart,
and she is on her way headed home from college.

A desperate man in a business suit stands ready,
to jump off a bridge to rushing water below,
until a gentle voice of someone who loves him,
tells him that life is really worth living together.

A swampy forest lies teeming with wildlife,
too much wildlife that they are killing crops nearby,
until one day during a nightly thunderstorm,
fire cleanses and renews the forest to start again.

People unable to find freedom for their voices,
decide with much courage and much trepidation,
to get into a ship and journey across the ocean,
for many months to give a better life to their children.

Yes, there are miracles everyday if we only look,
beyond ourselves, beyond the prayers of I need,
to see that the planet heals, grows, dies, and lives,
on its own, surrounded by a vast cosmos of space.

That on it's own, is an everyday miracle.
They happen in our backyards and on buses,
in schools, playpens, a mother's arms, a quiet room,
in our bodies, and even places we cannot see.

We don't have to seek out a miracle for they are
happening all around us everyday in all ways,
all we have to do is stop and accept change,
accept the miracle of our own beating hearts.

Instant Gratification

2005-06-08T07:50:00.000-07:00

Instant gratification is something we all want,
a desire for our wants to be satisfied now,
burning so strongly that is all consuming,
and makes other emotions erupt in flow.
Out of it is born the angry face of jealousy,
and greed in the hands that reach out.
The ability to control it is where power lies,
in suppressing it and gaining patient virtue.
With patience comes wisdom and reward,
but action without patience is only foolish,
wrought with hasty, disastrous consequences.
Therefore, though God holds time in his hands,
and does not fear the mortals' death shroud,
whereby the need for gratification is fed,
he doesn't know this desire as immortality
blocks out the need to have something now,
because for God there is all the time in the world.
So, look to the future beyond the here and now,
to a time to come after death has consumed life,
whatever that state may actually be for you,
and time does not run in a constant stream,
so that perhaps as mortals we can subdue,
the cravings and desires of instant gratification.
Seek only reward through patience and caution,
not through immediate action and foolishness.

Keep Hope Alive

2005-06-03T08:10:00.000-07:00

Keep hope alive.
Somewhere inside,
keep hope alive.
When all else fails,
keep hope alive.
When darkness falls,
keep hope alive.
When you stumble,
keep hope alive.
When you are hurt,
keep hope alive.
When you are lonely,
keep hope alive.
Even when you're happy,
keep hope alive,
so that your own hope,
will help inspire others,
to keep hope alive.

A Drive

2005-06-02T11:36:00.000-07:00

One day I'd like go out and take a drive,
to the middle of nowhere, wild country,
where there's nothing but scrubrush,
and lay there flat on my back and look
up into the blinding blue atmosphere
and just breathe in and out repeatedly
until I can feel nothing about my past
and think nothing at all of the future,
but just be present in the here and now.
I would just leave this dull office space,
and monotonous eight to five life,
pack a suitcase full of clothes and snacks,
and get into a car and just drive and
keep going filling up the car with gas
paid for with money I'd get from jobs
that I'd get from farmhouses on the way
to the middle or the end of nowhere USA.
I'd think of picking up weird strangers
and not worry about murder and rape,
or of robberies that could occur then,
but maybe think of the innate possibilities
of strange conversations and creations
between the stranger and myself
driving down a stretch of highway,
with only the headlights shining alone
in the pitch blackness of midnight.
I would just keep going and going
this way all day and all of the night,
picking up strangers and odd jobs
until the place I come to feels just right,
and that is when I'd stop and get out
and leave the car running on the side
of a lonely long stretch of paved road,
and run wildly way out into the desert
and just fall and crash, just like that.
And just live, just once without any
interference from friends, family,
work, business, chores, bills, clocks,
paychecks, worries, beliefs, and God,
Just lie there breathing in and out,
just for a moment, a couple of minutes,
just a drive to catch my breath...

Sinking

2005-05-31T13:05:00.000-07:00

I feel as though I'm sinking,
that the dark murky waters
of despair are consuming me,
inch by inch, blotting out the
light in the air above me.
If there is a Satan he is
loving every minute that I
choke on the bitterness of
the envious sadness inside.
He is pushing my head down,
waiting for the bubbles to surface,
and the air to rush out of my lungs.
And I feel as though I cannot
fight the current at the bottom,
pulling me under while I sink.
I look out but all anyone sees
is the bright facade surrounding me,
and not the cold surface of
darkness swallowing me up.
I cry out with salty tears that
sting me eyes, but no one hears.
All they hear is the laughter
ringing in their wondrous ears.
It's fine with me if you don't care.
Perhaps the sinking will end soon.
Perhaps in the cold darkness,
he will make my dreams come true,
or at least I can pretend,
when I am done struggling,
when I am done sinking.

Hollow not Hallow

2005-05-31T07:44:00.000-07:00

Mary, did you feel hallowed when you carried him?
Did you feel the glow from whence you were dim?
Were you feeling hollow with an emptiness inside,
before you had the feeling of something else alive?
I long to feel the hollowness fill up with life,
to know why I go through the humdrum and strife,
of working and working to pay all of the bills,
but none of it can do what being a mother can fulfill.
I want to know what it feels like to feel the body change,
the breasts growing fuller with a life force throughout.
To feel my soft belly flesh grow rounder and taught,
providing for more than to keep myself alive.
I am tired of this maiden life, so scared that the next
phase won't come, and I'll wake to see myself as the crone.
I long for the day, wishing it had already come,
to see myself changed, just as you had done.
Of course you were to be rejoiced over for you
were carrying life as all mothers like you do.
And oh mother Mary, how I long to be like you.
I wish that the day will come when I can be,
another blessed mother in this blessed world, I pray.
One day let me not be hollow but hallowed instead.

Who are you?

2005-05-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

Who are you?
What is your name?
Did you create the sky,
or the sun over the plain?
Did you cry when Eve sinned,
or were you even there?
Did someone just make that up,
and the rest of the Good Book?
Do you laugh when we suffer?
Do you cry when we mess up?
Why are you absent and gone
each time that we need you?
Do you see the wars start?
Can you stop them with your hand?
Are the bad things part of your plan?
Why do people love you,
and some don't even care?
Where are you?
Are you here or everywhere?
Does it matter to you what I think
about you and what you mean?
Or are you as carefree as the wind?
Do you see me writing this?
Are all these questions one big sin?
Why are you elusive,
one big mystery?
It all comes down to one thing.
God, who are you?
Will you please answer me.

Be Careful With me

2005-05-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

Be careful how you touch me.
I could melt or I could freeze.
Be careful how you hold me.
I could relax or I might tense.
The words you whisper softly,
might free me or could hurt.
This heart is very sensitive.
How you treat it means a lot.
It could shatter like glass,
or it could warm like hot rain.
Be careful how you handle me.
My sensitivity is like the wind,
gentle one day and galeful the next.
Keep your distance if I push,
and hold me close if I pull.
All I'm saying my dearest love
is be careful with me.

County Fair

2005-05-17T07:58:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I miss the county fair.
Let my memories take you there.
There would be hay beneath our feet,
to pad the muddy puddles.
Shouts from the children around,
and empty packages on the ground.
The lights from the midway bright,
lit from far away in the dark night.
All the colors of the rainbow shone,
not a single color stood alone.
Go-karts, bumper cars and merry-go-round,
Ferris wheel and gravity rides,
make our hearts pound inside,
and bring excitement to our day.
Games of all sorts and sizes stood,
where salesmen shouted their prizes
aloud to all the men and women.
Parents would play till their pockets
were dry, and little children would cry,
if they hadn't won the stuffed bear,
though they could buy that anywhere.
The agricultural exhibitions were fun,
seeing how milk was made and sold,
and all the fields sewn and harvested.
Pies and breads were made contested,
upon rows and rows of tableclothed stands.
Cows, sheep, and horses were stabled
and petted by all of the children
gathered there, and they laughed to hear,
them moo, bleat, and neigh loudly.
Candied apples were a sweet treat,
or caramel and chocolate hidden too.
Funnel cakes, pizzas, hot dogs, burgers,
fries, chips, and candies scented the air.
At the end of the season fireworks soared
through the vibrating summer night,
and families oohed and aahed with delight,
as they watched perched upon hood and
tailgate of their cars in the dusty lot.
We would curl up in the back of the car
as we went back to our home afar,
with the dust in our hair and clothes and
sweets around the corners of our mouths,
and peaceful sleep would take us away.

Pedestal

2005-05-16T13:05:00.000-07:00

Children are so bright and innocent,
so full of a naivete which is pure,
that they put all that they see and know,
upon a pedestal to show it off,
because they see only the purity,
which lies within each of us,
thinking those around them only good,
and block the negativity out.
But eventually it catches up to them,
clouding their eyes over with
the harsh reality that is life,
filled with hatred, anger, grief, war,
and so much sorrow within each man,
that the pedestal begins to crumble,
little by little until there is nothing left,
except the ground which the child,
and those they had admired share,
but now the children are starting to grow,
and beneath their feet so do their
own pedestals from which new children
have placed their innocent admiration upon,
to which the dark seed of reality
is implanted within the children
for the next generation to come.

Petal by Petal

2005-05-12T07:43:00.000-07:00

I saw you fall apart,
slowly, petal by petal,
and I was scared to see,
what lied at the center.
Each petal was beautiful,
soft and velvety dark.
And at the very core,
was the center of being,
bright yellow and brittle.
I ached to see you wither,
wanting to keep you safe,
from the harm of decay,
but I saw the life drain
away from that face,
until there was nothing-
Slowly, petal by petal.

Cubicle Life

2005-05-09T08:04:00.000-07:00

Few people know the strife,
of living a cubicle life.
No pictures can adorn these walls,
except for a calendar and plaque,
that hang from the metal cracks,
where the dismally grey fabric,
is stretched along the bars,
to make a dim grey shaded wall.
fluorescent light casts sickly glow,
upon the desk there below.
To open up the window blinds
would mean a glare upon the
computer screen, which shows
green text brightly displayed
upon a black background,
just like the movie The Matrix.
So the blinds stay mostly closed,
to keep the blessed sunshine out.
The same things scroll past me,
of legal documents all text,
to type into the system's net,
creating a hypnotic trance,
which creates a damper on the
soul of the worker in the box.
Breaks are the same time,
as well as the one for lunch,
the same things eaten each day,
cereal bars and then yogurt.
Audio books and music play,
into the headphone around my ears,
which help to ease the monotony,
of doing the same things each day.
The end of the day makes things
better, to leave and see loved ones.
But it all happens again the next day,
at the same time, in the same way.
Few people know the strife,
of enduring the cubicle life.

Empty Daydreams

2005-05-04T08:11:00.000-07:00

I miss our rondevues,
our light and sweet kisses.
I miss the twilight dance,
in the air above the trees.
But most of all I miss,
my undying love for you.
That love came from belief,
and now that it is gone,
there aren't anymore dreams,
of our passion we shared.
Rationalism took hold,
of my wandering mind.
You were banished to
the shadows in the corner,
where my daydreams fade.
Personal divinity burned,
too hot for me to hold.
So I quenched it with,
a realist's skepticism.
But I miss my thoughts,
of you holding me tenderly,
in the coolness of dawn,
beneath the apple tree.
Although you were a figment,
of this woman's imagination,
you were real enough to
keep my love for you alive.
But it wasn't good enough,
because my belief in you died.

Darkness

2005-05-03T14:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel it coming on,
in a sudden wave of melancholy.
I go from climbing euphoria,
happy self delusion of life,
to a submission in the humdrum,
of the repetitiveness of existence.
The wash of the emotions
comes at me and makes me sick,
to the point of self suffocation,
upon which I release the struggle,
and become overcome in the torrent.
Cloudiness fogs the mind,
with deep zombie like movements,
all puppeted by a hand of fate.
The light is swallowed up,
temporarily into the darkness.

Don't cry

2005-04-29T07:54:00.000-07:00

Don't cry for me Momma,
I won't be gone for long.
There is someone waiting,
someone big and strong.
On the days when you can't,
Daddy's gonna care for me.
I know you need care too,
getting your treatment daily.
The doctor will fix you,
and bring you back home.
And when I cannot visit,
I will use our telephone.
My tears are for you Momma,
because I miss you so.
You'll get all better soon,
and you'll be able to go.

This past week I watched an episode of House and it inspired this poem. I don't like thinking of children who have to see their parents dying of cancer and having to go through the motions. But in this poem the child has a father, whereas in the the episode the child had no father. That's even more sad.

Black Hole

2005-04-28T07:42:00.000-07:00

Darkness, seeping inky blackness,
cool of the deepest oceans,
pulling, and emersing all in pitch.
Destruction in total energy,
of unmeasured potential force.
Gravity, heavy and strong,
crushing and flattening all inside.
Black hole.

Don't Smother Me

2005-04-26T11:50:00.000-07:00

You don't know it, but you are a flame,
And not in a good way as you would think.
You look at me and think nothing but shame,
And in that presence I want to shrink.

There is no time where I can shine,
when you suck the life out of me.
I become like a shadow in your line,
trapped in your anger, trying to get free.

I wanted us to be friends but you are too cold,
that fire that burns is freezing like ice.
You used to be warm, a person to hold,
but now you are selfish and no longer nice.

I'm not the child that you tried to mold,
into the person you wish you could've been.
I am not here to do as I am told.
I am a grown woman now; I'll repeat it again.

I am not your friend, but just your daughter,
wanting you to listen and to comprehend.
Instead, you judge, and I wonder why I bother,
to try to tell you all the things in my head.

I keep coming back when you ask, what's up?
And I get smothered by that judging flame,
when I say anything I feel I've messed up,
not giving me a chance to play my own game.

It's my life and I'll live it the way I see fit.
Judge yourself before judging another.
I don't need you as a friend to be part of it.
I just need you to be a mother. My mother.

Shroud

2005-04-21T13:31:00.000-07:00

Would it matter if I went away?
If no one saw me at all the next day?
Would they wonder what happened?
Would anyone even notice?

Would life just return to normal
once they knew that I was gone?
Would someone nice and outgoing
come and take my place right here?

Would my loved ones find love again
in the arms of another woman?
Would they believe I'd always been,
a crazy and depressed person?

What that I'd give to see,
if anyone would miss me.
But I don't think I could visit
again in a non-mortal form.

Would it freak them out seeing,
a ghost form of the same me?
Would they cry and ask for forgiveness,
for all the times they made me cry?

Would they see me in death,
and comfort one another,
with tales of my homecoming,
this little unbeliever?

What would it be like to sleep
forever away from the teasing,
away from from the guilt
that peers and family give me?

Perhaps if there is a God,
he may not forgive me,
if I ran away from the world
he supposedly gave me.

Or, would he take me up,
dust me off with magic,
and make me walk again,
amongst the people there.

What would I give to know,
what it would be like,
not to live in shadow,
unnoticed until I speak.

And knowing that when I do,
that instead of it making them
laugh at me, there'd be respect
instead, a sure acceptance of
who I am.

No, it's not so easy then is it?
To just make the hurt go away?
To always say the right things
at the right times, even to lie?

Honesty is my only policy,
and it bites back every time.
To make it go away, might
stop the pain, but I'd still change.

Change... to change? For me or them?
No, stay the same and carry on.
Stay in shadows where their words
or my own can do me no harm.

Addiction

2005-04-20T11:50:00.000-07:00

I was addicted to you
though I did not know it.
I needed to break out,
to get away, do what
I want to do.
But you couldn't have
helped me if you wanted to.
I miss you dreadfully so.
There's this ache inside.
I vowed not to go back,
even if I wanted to.
So now, I wait for the day,
when that urge will go away,
and the calmness comes,
to make the addiction leave.

A Peasant Boy

2005-04-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

I fell in love with a peasant boy.
He was no knight in shining armor.
There was no treasure for which to hoard,
no god-like mansion fit for kings,
not even a beautiful stallion.
Rich women did not give him tokens,
of all their undying affections.
He did not eat on fine china plates,
nor have anyone to work for him.
He toiled hard in the daily sun,
working hard for his food and his keep.
I could not have seen it coming though,
all of this love that was meant to be.
Though he has none of these fineries,
he has something that they do not have,
and that one little thing is my love.
It may not keep us warm on cold nights,
nor bring us food to our table lain,
with nothing but a potters good fare.
But it is what sustains us each day,
which nourishes our spirits to live,
because no handsome knight won my heart.
It was a simple, kind, peasant boy.

River Ride

2005-04-18T07:56:00.000-07:00

I rode today in a beautiful boat.
It was covered in the most shiny silver,
with a thick plane of glass on the bottom.
Honeysuckle blossoms filled the banks,
their fruity fragrance was sweet in the air.
They rhythmic plunk and splash of the oars
was a calming beat to the river's song.
Dragonflies and hummingbirds hummed.
The small birds in the vines cooed,
and bullfrogs croaked a deep bass sound.
Crickets and grasshoppers added accompaniment.
Mandarin orange coy swam beneath the boat.
Snapping turtles slid with a plop into the water,
from their sun bathing nests upon the banks.
Minnows and crayfish darted in the puddles,
near the edge of the river where the water lapped.
As we made our way to our destination, I knew,
I'd miss the lazy afternoon river ride.

I will not Give up.

2005-04-11T07:56:00.000-07:00

Though the road is long,
I will not give up.
I will trod ahead,
through the ups and downs,
through the rain and snow,
through heartache and fear,
jealousy and rage,
torment, temptation,
misery, longing,
joy, euphoria,
ecstacy and hope.
I will not give up.
The journey goes on,
when my spirit fails.
I cannot waiver.
The weight will come off,
through trials and through
the tribulations.
The weight will come off.
It won't be right now,
and not tomorrow.
But I know it will,
If I don't give up,
If I do not snuff,
my eternal flame.
I know that I'll fall,
but I'll get back up,
and dust myself off,
since that's what we do,
when we are fighting,
to go on always.
My journey is long.
This weight won't stay on.
I will not give up.

Beauty Queen

2005-04-01T13:47:00.000-08:00

Somewhere beneath my own skin,
a beauty queen lies within.
Beneath the layers flat,
of sweets, grease, and fat,
is a skinny woman,
who knows all the fashion.
She can wear anything.
She can out out swimming.
She doesn't have to hide,
remember how she lied,
about the weight shown on,
her drivers license card.
Her attitude is sweet,
but no one sees beneath,
all the bulky clothing,
that in her voice's nothing,
to portray the hurt there,
from insults cast unfair.
Would be friends walk away.
They don't come back next day.
But she longs to chatter,
not seeing those fatter,
who would be her friend,
and doesn't undestand.
She wants a thin body,
one that is trapped, unfree.
Beneath the chains of guilt,
and laziness at hilt,
self punishment to boot,
but feels her tries are moot.
All her attempts she tries,
fail sadly and she cries,
Unable to let out,
will power in the doubt.
Inside she feels she dies.
Just see it in her eyes.
She's crying out for aid.
The beauty there does fade.
Only trapped within her.
What's the world to offer?
Gimmicks and diet pills,
giving out lots of bills,
for nothing in return,
another chance to learn,
nothing out there's for free.
The longing won't leave me.
to let the queen emerge.
I've almost thought to purge.
It's something I can't do.
I'll do what I always do,
live with gluttonous sin,
keep the beauty queen within.

I Didn't Find You as I Thought I would

2005-03-28T05:57:00.000-08:00

I didn't find you in those words,
I heard on Easter Sunday,
about the holy trinity
and a man dying on a cross.
I didn't believe the Priest,
when he quoted from an article,
that never in history in Judaism
or in Paganism was there ever another
person who died and resurrected,
because I've done my homework,
and have a mind that thinks.
I've learned that there were others,
raised from the dead as well,
people like Lazarus whom Jesus raised
himself, or like Persephone who lived
three days in the underworld and came
back to life to give new life to the world.
So, I disagreed with disgust,
while the Priest did read his homily,
and he believed it mind and heart,
but I so sadly did not, so I mourned,
for the belief in the Trinity,
which I tried to find again that day,
but tearfuly I did not.
I cried while sitting there alone,
taking in all that I was not,
among all of those who were.
Because I tried to take back a belief,
which I no longer myself own.
So, I didn't find you in those words,
during the homily nor the reconfirmation
of baptism vows which I tried hard to agree with,
but could not fully complete verbaly.
I found you in parts therein, in which the
Godhead was adressed and worshipped,
because to me you've not reincarneted
here on or nor again in Heaven,
but as a force of life and love in the world,
in which we struggle and play in.
I didn't find you as I thought I would,
like I had always done though others' words,
and actions within the confines of a place
of worship lead by priests in robes,
but I found you in certain parts of the rituals,
and words devoted to the Creator,
and certainly not in those words which
would exclude all nonbelievers
because I do not believe in a selfish god,
as they would have me believe.
I saw you in the birds bathing in the puddle
in my backyard before I walked to church,
and in the women on their porches,
throwing out birdseed to feed the hungry,
and in the dew upon the grass at my feet,
and I know finally with a sigh, that finding
you in all of those other things, including myself,
that it's good enough for me.

Water Sprite

2005-03-25T08:08:00.000-08:00

Don't go near the water,
or she might pull you in,
the tempting water nymph,
with the pale blue-green skin.

She stands there nakedly,
in the shining moonlight,
motions you to come in,
what has come into sight.

You stumble to this shore,
through the dusky large wood,
to see this fair maiden,
to reach her if you could.

Her arms reach out to you,
water dripping way down,
to places she'll take you;
make sure you do not drown.

She wants to kiss your mouth,
give you lots of pleasure,
beneath the water's edge,
and force you with pressure...

...To drown in the coldness,
of the shocking water.
She'll hold you tightly,
make you hers forever.

Don't go near the water,
or she mightdrag you in,
the alluring faerie,
with the pale blue-green skin.