You chew me up
And spit me out
I'll come back with
A different flavor

Dear God,
                  I want to be the Sole-Mate of my Soul-Mate.

لكل صوت                                                                                                                           صدى ...                                                                                                                             و لكل كلمة جميلة                                                                                                                      صدى ...                                                                                                                             للحياة كلها                                                                                                                             صدى جميل ...                                                                                                                      Every sound has its echo ...                                                                                           Every pretty word has its echo ...                                                                                     Life itself as a whole has a pretty echo ..........................................                                  ___________________­_

I see that pretty rising of that pretty sun ,but                                                        I often don't see its sunset ..                                                                                      That sunset always happens                                                                                    When I am not there ...                                                                                           I love that sunset ,but                                                                                               I am not often there ...........                                                                                      Some skyscrapers hinder that pretty sunset ,so                                                     Some can not see it ....                                                                                              That pretty sunset happens everyday and                                                             I rarely see it ....                                                                                                                   ____________________

I've taken special precaution to protect myself.
Meaning, I don't give my email to people I do not know.
My phone number is clutched to my chest.
Even my real name is never disclosed.

I live by pseudonym.
Pandarra,
Pandakin
or simply just Panda.
And'
If that's not to your liking.
Try;
Vearena,
Vearona
or even Vea.
I have lots of names,
all of them a mouthful
as they roll off your tongue.

I live with precautions,
to keep people at bay.
Too many idiots and pervert
now-a-days.
But that's not the worst,
heathens and **** dwell
as well.
People who are working the angles
to make a quick buck or two
off the naive and the unknowing.

So learn from me well;
live with precautions.
Keep people at arms length,
because then, and only then,
can they not
sink their teeth in.

Friends shouldn't be afraid
to be themselves in fear of being judged or abandoned.
Most of my friends,
I'm afraid I'm on the verge of loosing.

Either if it was a dumb mistake
or something I've done wrong; they'd make me sorry.
But I know,
I won't loose you.

I know I have a friend,
who I can be open with and be someone I am really.
I can tear off the mask,
and never press delete.

Miles apart and hours behind,
it seems like it was never meant to happen.
But we took control of our own fates,
and pushed our lives together either way.

You know I love you,
and I know you love me.
So why is it so strange to me
to finally have someone who won't judge me.

My friend is an amazing poet!
You see, I never knew
Till recently when he showed me a piece
While we were out for a tea date that was way overdue

We used to talk about everything and anything
My friend and I, we have many things in common
We'll talk about Star Wars, music, movies,
TV shows, shoes
Even books from James Clemens

But we stopped hanging out a while back
Even though we still see each other daily
We hardly talked, we drifted apart
We were so busy but I did miss him greatly

One day I noticed that he had this vacant look in his eyes
And I knew that he must be troubled
For although he was smiling at everyone
I felt this urge to look out and catch him if he stumbled

So after bugging him for a gazillion time
That we needed to catch up
He finally agreed to go out for tea
Where we talked with no one to interrupt

We talked and talked like we used to
Time passed slowly as our cups of tea and cigarette butts cluttered the table
Then he showed me a poem he had written
Which left me speechless and looking at my new idol

Wow! He sure can write
His writing is so inspiring it touches the soul
I felt ashamed sitting next to someone such as he
Someone who could turn his words into gold

So I would like to thank him for sharing this part of his life with me
I know my poem can never be as good as his has been
But hopefully he'll find this pleasing
Thank You Ryn!!!!

anything can
look like poetry if
you hit the enter button
a lot

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...