Happy,
Is what I am today.

Yesterday's sadness,
Is like so far away.

Hopeful,
Is what I am for tomorrow.

And I'm praying for gratitude,
Because I don't want to count my sorrow.

Not anymore 'cause,
I want to be more positive than before.

Diamond studded beachs leave me at a loss
The words buried in the sand with meaning in the briny moss
Holding onto my tongue as if a secret lingers
Listening to roaring waves like they're a chorus of singers

Caressed by silver seas that echo such sweet tales
A maiden that carries sailors to harbors with wind pushing their sails
Laying it's shining touch upon the diamond sand
Brushing against it with it's foam touching like a lover's hand

Clear summer skies reveal the eleagance of this scene
Diamond beach and silver sea that flow within a dream
Knowing no words, no sight, no sound, could ever compare
As I stand on diamond studded beach and breathe in salt filled air

You turned left,I turned right
You run,I chase
There's a fight
And that's what I hate

My brain
My heart
Will always be insane
But that's just my part

Your quiet
Your fun
We both start a riot
I love you my sweet ***

But then I knew
That there's someon else
Now I'm plain confused
That care only for yourself

When these boots return from foreign lands
Covered with worn in dirt and desert sand
Tattered and worn down as the look in my eyes
May you be there, patiently awaiting my
Hopeful return from distant soil and raging seas
May you be there, waiting for me
My uniform faded from days under the sun on continents that are not my own
May you be there, waiting safe at home
My hands worn and rough as leather, but still as gentle as you remember
May you be there, after this long venture
Comes to a close
May you be there, you're all I long to hold
May you be there, should I ever make it home...

she’s gone and my world becomes a small comfortable bubble of washing dishes, making phone calls, giving hugs.  things are simple again.  relationships are pure and strong.  the people who care are right there with help, the rest fades away. no mess.  life is black and white - it’s grieving and comforting - it’s sorrow and hope - it’s washing dishes and making phone calls.

the relationship to a grandparent is a strange one.  there is a difference between knowing who a grandparent is to you, and who they have been.  grandparents are known by their grandchildren at the end of their journeys – not as small children, or college wallflowers, or tennis champs, or young mothers with smooth skin and quick hands.

grandchildren should be more humble. they fit into the end of the intricate lives of their grandparents and are lucky to witness what they do.

Jealousy. Envy. I am the Green Monster.

These are the things I feel and that of which consumes me.
They are running my life..and...It's getting out of control.
I wish to be her. Just like her.

Her beauty.
Her personality.
Her qualities....
I want them all.

But then again, I wouldn't be me, myself anymore.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't really like me at all.

I told you not to forget
but you did,
a letter resigned in a drawer,
a story left to grow dust
and words to vaporise
like they were never written
and meant one thing.

I liked our kaleidoscope moments,
candy-colours in triangles and circles,
melting stained glass
but you broke it,
dropped it on the floor or something
and we couldn't fix it,
those reds and greens and golds
a sprinkled memory
at the back of our brains.

So we used a spinning top
and watched it ****
upon the table,
round and round
but it slowed,
staggering
like a man intoxicated
and it fell from the wooziness,
too sick to go on.

So we played chess
even though I am mediocre at it
and I was white,
you were black,
the little kings, queens, bishops
forced forwards by our fingers
until they didn't want to play anymore,
back in the box please,
and you won, of course,
you won every game with ease.

Said we'd play again sometime
but you didn't remember
and I bought a new kaleidoscope too,
just for us to use
but you forgot didn't you,
it happened again.

I am rich in love,
I am poor in money.
I am ***** in cowgirl boots,
I am clean in high heels.
But enough about me,
what about you?
You are strong in wisdom,
and strong in arms.
Your opinion counts,
even though I hate it sometimes.
You can draw anything,
you can imagine even more.
You told me lies,
that I still believe today.
I love you all the time,
but I only like you sometimes.
You are like an old lab,
and I am a puppy.
This poem isn't for a lover,
it is for you,
Kirk.
My older brother,
the one who is annoyingly,
always right.

Mystery of my past,
why to you stay on me like a cast?
Mystery of my future,
I try at you like a shooter
in the fog.
Mystery of my present,
I wonder if I will resent-
What I do now,
and they way of how-
I do things,
will haunt my future,
good or bad.