The wind blowing gently, the rose Quartz pink flowers seemed to be floating around me. The bright green grass seemed to be lit up as the sun shown down on the earth looking more like a paining. I stared in complete awe took me over. I was having trouble believing such a place existed. My thoughts were swirling making myself believe I wasn't merely in a dream. I stood there looking around me. There were no gates or walls. No borders to keep me away. It was open and free. Walking over to one of the trees I placed my hand on it gently. It's bark was soft to the touch. It's leaves feeling like velvet as I ran my hand over one of its branches. I sat down leaning against its trunk as I watched the day go by. Like a blanket, the flowers loomed over everything in sight. I knew where I wanted to be. Where I wanted to stay. Right here in this moment. Forever...

I sat on the log as uneven as it was. My cold blue eyes were set on the dancing flames infront of me. The stories from my past played out as I watched the flames create new stories I could only immagine. As I watched my past unfold infront of me, my eyes began to fill up with tear. Tears of joy and hope. Tears of sadness and frustration. Suddenly, the flames began to grow engulfing my past and burning it to ashes. I slowly opened my eyes to see a small crackling fire infront of me, an austic guitar let out a simply beautiful tune. I sat there somehow forgetting my past, my eyes set on the dancig flames.

The little girl grins with glee
As she runs outside squealing
"Daddy come on! I bet you can't catch me!"

The dad chuckling as he walked out the door
As the little girl yells
"Come on! Once more!"

Looking back at her dad
Not noticing the street
All the neighbors now heard
The pidder-patter of her little feet

Then suddenly that familiar sound
Filled the father's ears
As he yelled out in warning
His eyes filled with tears

The father now sprinting
Despite his bad knee
Saw the car had just missed her
By only a few feet

He kept running to the girl
Hands soon cradling her face
She smiled once more saying
"Daddy let's race!"

He simply shook his head
Holding his little girl
Like a clam in the ocean
Never releasing its pearl

A little girl, blond as can be,
Sits in her shed, staring mindlessly.
She thinks of an idea and tells her dad,
"My shed needs painting,
So it won't be so sad."
They worked on her shed, day and night,
Until her dad tucked her in bed,
Nice and tight.

The next day, the little girl sprang from her bed,
She ran to her yard, smiling at her shed.
The once old wooden shed,
Now had a lovely smile.
The little girl hugged it saying,
"Sorry it took a while."
From the early bird's chirp,
To the friendly owl's hoot,
The young girl played in her shed,
Like a chick in its coop.

One day the little girl began to cry,
For her elderly father was soon to die
The shed's smile soon started to fall.
The young girl it once knew,
Had gotten so tall.
It tried to hold up its rusty old boards,
Trying to cheer her up,
Like a guitarists with the perfect chords.

One day the young girl, now a woman,
Walked out to the shed, and gave it a hug,
Just like she always did.
She cried and talked to her shed,
Explaining that her father was dead.
Yet she thanked her father,
for building that shed.
It always cheered her up,
With its smile painted wide.
When she was happy, it stood up tall.
Yet when she was sad,
It leaned to one side.

One day she came home,
With a man by her side,
With her white dress flowing,
She happily cried.
The shed had only one problem
With this man by her side.
When th girl came visiting,
Her tears were already dried.

The years passed by,
As the couple had a child.
Though the shed grew tired,
The weeds grew wild.
With the years racing by, the shed fell down,
It's boards and bolts,
cast and scatteredalomg the ground.

The husband wanted those old bolts rid,
As he kicked the rusty boards,
They scattered and skid.
The girl looked at the rusty pieces of shed,
And smiled simply shaking her head.
Why get rid of such beautiful wood,
When we can make a baby bed?

The shed would've leaped out of the air,
Its joy and happiness,
Relieved by her care.
So the baby slept with its crib and mobile,
On the side of th crib, was the shed's big smile.

I heard a pounding on the ground as the sun rose above the horizon The herd was coming. Over the rolling hills came the herd of wild mustangs. Their hooves vibrating the earth. Their manes tangled and blowing in the wind. Their ears alert, their large brown eyes looked wild. I longed to run with them. I noticed one of the majestic creatures was slowing. stopping completely, it stared at me. Its tail curled around its back hoof. Its soft gently brown eyes seemed to be looking into me soul. Its nostrils flared as the soft breeze brushed through its mane. dipping its head, it began to trot back to the others. its slow trot morphed into a canter then ending in a gallop. I watched the majestic creature gallop off into the day, never to be seen again. I knew now that mustangs were wild. They are as free as you and me. A smile spread across my face as the herd was never to be see again.

The soul is what makes up a person. People can break your soul, so guard it with everything you've got. Most people don't want to break it. They want it for themselves. They leave you soul-less. So guard it with all you've got. The people of this world pretend like they love you, they pretend to be your friend. You can't trust them. They say they'll never leave you like the othera did. Then when they take your soul, they find another victim taking your soul with them. So guard it with all you've got. It's the one thing you won't regret.

His deep intense gaze
Never wavering either side
Locked upon his target
No, his enemy can't hide

An instantaneous moment
And an arrow's locked into place
His enemy frozen in fear
For no blade can wound his face

The metal pierced its skin
Before his quiver ceased to shake
His pale blue eyes satisfied
As he watched his enemy quake

His tunic sways in triumph
His confidence never wavers
As he returns to his home
To the woman of whom he favors

Change is a wonderful thing. The frog once a tadpole. The butterfly once a cocoon. The sun will rise. The sun will fall. Grandparents will die. Babies will be born. Relationships will be made as friendships will be torn. For I know this life has begun and j know this life will end. Why dwell on the small things that can't change when you can live out the big things that can?

This life is like an adventure in ways. It has a begining and end. There are struggles and hurdles along the way. You can't take many things with you. Some things you have to leave behind. You have to be careful when choosing what to take with you. You never know what is going to happen. It could end in an instant or could last a long time. There is a peak in the middle. You can focus in the high points or focus on the low ones. If you don't prepare, you might not make it to your final destination. Like an adventure, you choose your destination. You get to make all the choices on which paths to take and which to avoid. You can make life worth living or you will regret even going. Life is an adventure.

the scent of fresh green grass
overwhelming the chilled air
the branches of the maple tree swayed
as if there was nothing to worry about
but the present time in the now
the rays of sun beamed
down upon the silent earth
the fall colors hued their surroundings
reminding any living thing
of this world's true beauty
as a deer padded silently
it ventured boldly into the clearing
the earth seemed to come
to a stand-still in complete awe
its soft dark brown eyes
so gentle
so fragile
yet strong
bold
fearless
The only thing destracting the world
of the sheer beauty
was a small sparrow
singing a soft tune
sadly, it takes something like this
to prove this world's beauty
Tis like a pare of glassed
these frames provise a view
of the world as we know it
suggested to different people
sadly enough
many people have been presented
with the wrong frames
they are distorted
by societie's cruel tools
to see the bad in this world
to see the hurt
the pain
the death
and the hate
yet some people are given frames
that see the good in this world
that see the beauty
the love
the peace
the passion
what I say to you now
should always be rememberd
stya close to these people
so next time you look
at the beautiful world
you will see the good
for life is too short
to dwell on the little things
that simply can't change
when you can live out
the big things that can.

The bright light shown as a fresh cool breeze blew in my face. The sun's rays reflected off the dew on the fresh green grass on the rolling hills. The sun was rising over the horizon as the sky began to light up with peace and joy to start the day. The sweet scent of roses and daffodils filled the air. The maple leaves blowing in the soft breeze. A sense of pure joy, peace, and satisfaction awoke everyone from their sorrows as it swept them off their feet. The hills rolled with apple orchards filled with bright red fruit ready to be picked. Without a cloud in the sky and a smile on everyone's face, I couldn't help but let a smile spread across my own as a new day had begun.

I was sittig down at my desk finishing off the day's work. My brain was almost incapable of functioning any longer. My head was ringing with words and numbers as I attempted to focus on th task at hand. Lifting up my head to gaze out my window, a little sparrow sitting on my windowsill caught my eye. As my gaze focussed, the small, fragile bird tilted its head at me. I smiled at the little bird as it hopped a little closer and sang a few notes. As it looked at me one last time, it spread it's wings and flew off. Looking back down at my work with new encouragement, I continued as the night went on thinking of the sparrow in my window.

As I looked over the lake the sun began to fall. It's bright rays once yellow and gold now pinks and purples. The sun shown down over the lake. The water rippled as a delicate white petal from the Bradford Pear fell to the water. Like a thousand little diamonds floating on the surface the sun went down. The night welcomed the moon and stars. The tiny figures above reflected off the water. The moon shining as it reflected of the water's surface. The fireflies shining and the crickets singing their song. Another white petal fell to the water as ripples made the reflections look fuzzy. I sat there wondering how long it would last. If I were just simply dreaming. Something told me I was laying my eyes on a glimpse of heaven.

After reading of the ancient Greeks and Romans, the people of the Middle Ages, leading up to the people of today's time, I have come to the realization, tis not what this world has become that should be shamed upon men, tis what is was, is, and always will be.

His intense yet soft brown eyes stared at the canvas infront of him. His muscular arms were simply an illusion to his soft touch. With pencil in hand, the graphite delecately touched the canvas. With the mind of a poet, and the gentle hands of a watch-maker, a beautiful detailed picture began to slowly become visible. His deep gaze was set on the detailed sketched infront of him. Yet, there was something special about his hands. Almost unable to explain. His dry fingers covered in cracks, were covered also with dry clay and paint. It was as if they were living things, like they had created pictures and stories no one else could. No one could ever understand the conplexity of the artist's hand.

The days go on one at a time. All the people move on day by day forgetting the images their minds captured moments before. Yet the poet's mind never moves on. Things are merely added to the ongoing thoughts. Many men and women may pass by things every day such as a wooden park bench, a bird's nest, or an old home, never thinking anything of them. Yet the poet sees something different every time. The ordinary mind may see the old park bench as a nuisance as they are walking to the buss station to work every day. Yet the poet sees it for its full potential. They see the uneven legs, the scratched, evenly carved, oak wood, the rusting metal, and the rough texture, as something beautiful, almost alive. They wonder of all the people who have sat on its wooden seat. An artist with delicate hands. A young man flexing his muscles for any passing female. A little girl holding her daddy's hand. A warrior whose eyes have seen much more than most human beings could bear. The never-ending mind of a poet stays lost in thought, never wavering. The mind of a poet never truly has one base for their way of thinking. One day, they may see this world as a trap, oxygen merely a barrier to what they could never achieve. Yet then again, the poet may see the world as a welcoming, enjoyable place to be with all its beauty. But most of all, the poet's mind is never readable, never predictable. No one understands the mind of a poet, even other poets, which could be the cause for some poet's downward look on life. For they are incredible works of art, displayed with pen and paper, giving the world the only glimpse of the poet's mind it will ever receive.

My weakness is kindness
I live to serve
And if you try and stop me
You've got some nerve

I will love you and care for you until I fall apart
Yet your words burden me
Like a dagger to the heart

You cling to me
Like I'm you're only hope
Yet my mission had failed
I simply wanted you ,alone, to cope

Alone I knew you could make it
On your own I knew you were strong
Yet I helped you anyways
Not knowing it was wrong

You became dependent on me
Like a fish to the sea
Yet I knew it was bad for you
I had to leave

The only way you would make it
Was if you were on your own
Yet I stayed anyways
Should've known I was prone

The day of the war was upon us. The air which was burdened by every man's heartbeat upon the approaching enemy, thudding louder and louder. Battle cries threatened to burst through my ears. The battle has begun. Sweat drenched my brows as blade came into contact with another. The muscles in my body intensifying with every possibly fatal blow. The screams of agony soon blurred out as we pushed forward. The ground pounding as the air surrounding us was thick with the all too familiar scent of crimson. Every man's eye was now numb watching brother after brother fall, never to rise again. Yet we push on as even the sun slinks away in retreat. We will go on. No matter how long it takes, we will go on.

Why is this world here?
That I don't know.
Why did God make leaves green?
Or wood creak
When you step on that one board?
Why do we get that special feeling
when sitting infront of the fireplace during the winter?
Why does it bring a smile to our face,
when we see a little girl
run ino her daddie's arms?
Why are we at a loss for words
when trying to describe love?
This I don't know.
Why does it feel peaceful
when we are alone?
Why do we hurt
when a loved one passes?
Why do we grin
when we recieve a gift?
Why do we clench our fists
when we become frustrated?
This I don't know. Maybe some things aren't meant to be known. Maybe when you find out why joyful things are joyful, you loose the joy in them. And that is why we don't know. Why is this? That only God knows.

Her soft, gentle eyes looked down passionately upon me. Her face was white as snow as her soft lips smiled welcoming me. Her long white silk dress flowed down her back just glazing softly over the floor. Everything around her seemed to glow as she passed by. A pare of immense white feathered wings showed behind her. The gorgeous pearl white feathers layed neatly over-lapping eachother. It was impossible not to tear up at the sheer beauty. Her voice was the most soothing sound my ears had allowed to let in. Her speech was flawless as her words flowed flawlessly and effortlessly. It was clear as day, she was nothing less of an angel.

I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into the darkness as the light started to fade. I struggled against the weight connects to my soul as it pulled me farther into the deep. Reaching out my arms hoping someone would grab my hand all I felt was air go through my cold fingers. I gave into the darkness as I kept falling and the last speck of light left from my sight. I fell hard against the asphalt painfully as my legs refused to to hold under the weight any longer. I fell to my knees and even they could not hold under the weight. My eyes growing heavy as tears streamed out of my cold blue eyes. Tears continued to fall down my face until there were none left to shed. I was weak and vulnerable not knowing where I was or how I had let myself get there. Unable to lift my head I sat there in shame, guilt and regret. My heart had closed off. I was weak and had hatred towards every bone in my body. It was cold and grey. I realized I could not recognize who I was anymore. Who am I? Why am I here and how did I end up like this? I felt as if my life were in a thousand pieces that didn't match up and never would. Drowning, I gasped for air. I breathed in water making me choke. Coughing and breathing in water, I desperately fought it as the weight of guilt and regret tied around me took me deeper into the darkness. I gave up fighting as I sank deeper. Soaked in my shame and regret the darkness soon took me over. I found myself alone and paralyzed yet I didn't care. My life was in ruins that could not be put together again no matter how hard I gave it my all. U was never to be lifted again.

If struggles are frightening
What does that make life?

Is life not full of struggles?
Then how is life,
Not always frightening?

There has so be something
Other than struggles
That keep us
From living in fear

If struggles are scary
Then life is a horror story
Struggles around every bend

Is this proof..
That joys really do exist?
Despite our sorrowful poems?
Despite out lovesick hearts?
Despite our crave for more?

Then again,
One might twist that

One could say,
That if joys are stars
Within the night
Then life is a galaxy

Full of stars and Suns
With orbiting bases
All around them
Surrounding them
With protection

What is life to you?
Will you decide
To watch
That horror story inside
In the dark
Or will you be adventurous
And look beyond a screen
Playing out our fears
And simply gaze
At all the joys in the darkness