Sweet stream-fed glen, why say ‘farewell’ to thee
Who far’st so well and find’st for ever smooth
The brow of Time where man may read no ruth?
Nay, do thou rather say ‘farewell’ to me,
Who now fare forth in bitterer fantasy
Than erst was mine where other shade might soothe
By other streams, what while in fragrant youth
The bliss of being sad made melancholy.

And yet, farewell! For better shalt thou fare
When children bathe sweet faces in thy flow
And happy lovers blend sweet shadows there
In hours to come, than when an hour ago
Thine echoes had but one man’s sighs to bear
And thy trees whispered what he feared to know.

I once saw a beautiful garden.
Between the red road and a beautiful sea,
curiosity got the better of me
and I examined all the greenery.

The flowers, with their remarkable beauty,
stands out among the rest.
Picked by everyone who passes by,
adored and treated well.
But as they grow old and wither,
used and tattered like pieces of paper,
they are thrown and replaced by another.

The trees, while not the most beautiful,
are sturdy and tall.
From a simple seed they grow,
years of patience and suffering they endured,
just for that view on the top.
But not every seed survives,
for storms can take their roots off the ground,
and take their hopes away anytime.

And then there's the grass,
lying about on the soil,
stepped on by everyone
and barely getting by.
They are not pretty nor sturdy.
They have nothing special.
But still they try.
To grow taller and taller,
so they can at least see the view,
and enjoy the breeze at the top.

And as I left the garden,
I looked back and smiled,
Because even though they're different
They live in perfect harmony.
Because they all just want to see,
the view at the top.

I'm the person who cleans up after
parties -
the kind of person who makes the
host ask
"Who cleaned up?"
and leave the room wondering who the
kind guest was.
Maybe it's because it eases my
troubled mind
when I'm the only one who's awake,
but then
you come down the stairs and I feel
a sudden calm
as you hold me in your arms.

I've often wondered
What it would be like
To die by the pen.
Hold myself down
Between paper and ink.
Turn my art against me
And be killed by my own creations.

i speak hope that you may see through my lighter eyes.
through my spaced expression.
i surely do feel summer in my bones
i surely do feel like my world is expanding, as ***** and disbanded as my world may seem.
i know my state is temporary, just as it all is, but while i feel this, ill let it indulge
i will breathe in every last drop of this feeling until it is as dry as my bones

when i walk outside its amazing that i can feel the clouds wishing me farewall
the gut feelings are fading, everything seems yellow and grey
wont the chilly moon wish me a good rest of the year?
i am in dier need of a break

she is the only one i trust

I see you
With your distant eyes and lazy stare
I follow you
Through demise and through despair
Though we know not of it yet
There will come a time where our sun is set

And when it comes I will be here
Waiting for you endlessly, without fear
Something you carry deep within;
It won't let you love again.

So I know our differences are laid aside
For our familiarity is something hard to find.
As the sun rises high, only to set in time
I wait for you endlessly, without reason, or rhyme.