Daddy wasn't  there to **** the spiders,
So mommy gave them the gift of life-
Gently lifting them from the crevices of my tiny room,
And carrying them off to freedom
Atop a tattered kitchen broom,
Softly whispering sweet condolences in their secret language.
And that is how I learned what poetry is..

Oh  the ocean
the only one i know
and i don't wanna swim
if it gets too cold

And the motions
of love get old
and i wont settle for silver
when i once had gold..... when i once had you

Oh the commotion
of my emotions
led me to the night my soul was sold
i don't wanna grow old knowing the truth wasn't told

Both paper my heart
and the letter that you hold
let it be read as my heart
it unfolds..... for you

If my heart is my compass
then X you mark the spot
ill find my gold
and let it go i will not

If someone ever loved you
well i hope it would show
ill find my lovin'
your my compass rose

so ill swim these parts of the ocean
where the lonely get cold
someday currents will  lead me
to somewhere you'd call home

Once a filthy pirate
I reap what i sow
and i don't wanna love
without love from my gold! HA!

Gil-galad was an Elven-king,

Of him the harpers sadly sing:

The last whose realm was fair and free

Between the Mountains and the Sea.



His sword was long, his lance was keen,

His shining helm afar was seen;

The countless stars of heaven's field

Were mirrored in his silver shield.



But long ago he rode away,

And where he dwelleth none can say;

For into darkness fell his star

In Mordor where the shadows are.

I wish I had known
Long before now
That I was doing everything wrong.

That the things
I did and said
Were of so little help,
So little merit,
So little worth,
That they made me
Mean so little to you.

I wish I had known
Long before now
That it is not enough
That I should love you
Unconditionally.
Everyone in your life
Must follow suit
In what I do
For you to bear the
Smallest fraction of happiness.

They say that one person
Can make such a difference
In your life.
But I feel that I make
No difference at all either way,
That should I stay
Or should I go,
Your life would move on without me.
I feel that my presence
Makes no more difference
Than my absence would,
Should I vanish from your life.

I feel I am simply existing,
At your side,
In waiting.

I wait for the days
When you want to have me at your side,
The days when you smile, and laugh,
And tell me how beautiful I am,
Regardless of what I'm wearing,
How my hair is done (or undone),
Whether or not my makeup is perfect,
Or I am wearing any at all.

I wait for the days when
You come to my door
And as soon as I open it
Pull me into your embrace,
Openly expressing your joy
In seeing me,
In being with me,
In being mine
And calling me yours.
In making me feel like
No one else could ever bring
Such a smile to your face,
And such a warmth
To your eyes.  

I wait for the days when
You wrap me in your arms
With a strength that I imagine
Can only be borne of love,
Shielding me, protecting me,
Safeguarding me in your unending
Quest to be all that I want,
Though you already are.

I wait for the days
When you kiss my forehead gently,
And in that kiss
Express that
I am yours to love in my entirety,
To protect in my frailty,
To bring along with you
As you tread your path of life,
As your partner in crime,
Your co-pilot,
Your fellow adventurer.

I wait, now, for those days
That used to be everyday
In our little utopia.

I wake in the morning
With the hope that today,
I will make you happy.
That I will bring light and color
Into your life and your world,
As you once so often told me
That I did.

I wake with the hope that today,
I will be special to you,
And beautiful,
Priceless,
Treasured,
Wanted,
Loved.

I wake with the hope that today,
I'll get it right.

I'll get it right, won't I?

Maybe I just need to try a little harder.

But such days, now,
Are few and far between.
More like a game of chance
Which I hope I can win,
At least every
Now and then.  

I know not where I went wrong.
So I can only offer an apology,
A small, fragile thing
In my trembling, outstretched hand,
In hopes that you will take it from me
With the same gentleness
And delicate care
That you once employed with me.


I am sorry that I have failed you.


I am sorry that I am not
Enough for you,
That I am only one person,
And as such,
Can only give you
What one person may.

I am sorry that my softspoken words,
Of encouragement, of comfort,
Managing to cover
Debilitating inner pain
That I could not make everything
Right for you,
Were not enough.

Could I have said more?

I'm sorry that my gentle touch,
Easing the furrow in your
Worried brow,
Working the stress
From your shoulders and back,
Upon which you carry
Far too much,
Holding you as you were ill
Or upset,
Or too tired and weary of the world
For anything more than
Laying in my arms,
Was not enough.

Could I have done more?

I'm sorry that I possess
Very little in the way
Of material goods,
That I could not help you more
In your search for a way
To have a better, richer,
More fulfilled life.

I wish I had more to give you.
Had I the world in my palm,
It would be yours,
And all that was in it,
Yours as well.

Could I have given more?

I have, in truth,
Done my best.
I have given all that I had,
And all that I could,
And still more that was not
Really mine to give.
I have never wanted so much
To give all of everything,
In every way,
To someone.
And it tears at my heart,
Claws of gargoyles,
Nails of coffins,
Thorns of roses,
That I don't have a way
To do such a thing for you.

I am only sorry
That what little I did have,
Likened to the offerings
A peasant might possess,
Were of meager proportions
That could not satisfy you.

My heart shatters
As a bauble falling
To an unforgiving,
Concrete end,
As I tuck myself
Into a half-empty bed,
Wishing your warmth
And your smile
Were coming at me
From the other side.

If a pair of arms to hold you,
A pair of ears to listen,
A mouth to speak kind words
And remind you how much
You are loved,
A heart that beats for you
And shakes violently
At the thought that it might have
Lost its worth in your eyes,
Are ever what you seek,
And are what might make you happy,
I will be here.

I will always be here.


I am so sorry....

*...that I failed you.

But that doesn’t cancel out what I feel right now and all the space floating around with nowhere to go but deeper down inside of me, waiting for the right words someone inflicts upon my sensitive eardrums to bring it out again. And the words will come and the pain will return and I’ll think back on this moment with a different perspective than the one I’ll have tomorrow.

And I don’t look forward to tomorrow’s smile because this right now feels more real than anything and I don’t want to forgive them even if they deserve it and I don’t want to cancel out everything I feel now as a distant memory because it’s so strong and it belongs here. And it is justified, even if that’s just in my own mind, and I don’t want them to go on believing that
I
am
indestructible.

If rightly tuneful bards decide,
  If it be fix’d in Love’s decrees,
That Beauty ought not to be tried
  But by its native power to please,
Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell—
What fair can Amoret excel?

Behold that bright unsullied smile,
  And wisdom speaking in her mien:
Yet—she so artless all the while,
  So little studious to be seen—
We naught but instant gladness know,
Nor think to whom the gift we owe.

But neither music, nor the powers
  Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer,
Add half the sunshine to the hours,
  Or make life’s prospect half so clear,
As memory brings it to the eye
From scenes where Amoret was by.

This, sure, is Beauty’s happiest part;
  This gives the most unbounded sway;
This shall enchant the subject heart
  When rose and lily fade away;
And she be still, in spite of Time,
Sweet Amoret in all her prime.

Oval mirror of the sea,
age-warped isle waved and cloudy,
each angle crystalline and salty.
my lens into reality.

Point of space just visible,
focus of beams ineffable,
switch of signals transmissible,
receiver of voices inaudible

At time's edge. No need have I to shout
in fear about this death of mine.
And any creature here is glad
to offer you a glass of wine.

wear do we learn the rules?
                    the                rules
of riting

who says we have to
stay
                   in
                      the
        lines

why Should it                   matter
          where
i write
How I spelll
weather; I use the right punctu
     a-tion

where is the Creativity

if  y   ou    always
                  the
     follow
                        ?rules