I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret

Is there anything more wonderful
Then being part of the poet’s corner?
Lucky am I to be a poetry lover!
A romance novelist used poetry to ponder
A story that changes and transforms
One’s heart.  Is there anything more wonderful?
Joining a poetry site, I blundered
My way to writing a poem, oh what torture!
But lucky am I to be a poetry lover.
Many offered their support, allowing me to discover
My path and slowly my writing became stronger.
Is there anything more wonderful?
So many inspired awe and wonder,
Giving me strength to claim my own corner,
Justifying my becoming a poetry lover.
To those who offered encouragement so tender
I offer my thanks and give honor.
Is there anything more wonderful
Than becoming a poetry lover?*

Kelly Rose
December 29, 2015

I found love that can't be compared
A family that is closer to my heart
They make me smile every time we meet
Without them I feel empty insisde
They mean more than money can buy
I give them my body on my soul to help or satisfy them
I have mothers that have thought me and showed me the way
They gave me the light and threw away the darkness.
When I feel down I count on them to lift me up.
Although we work in a hospital but we are attached more than just work
We have a bond that not even a wave can break
Love them with everything I have.
I can't bear to see a tear or a drop of sadness show in their face.
If they would measure my love to them no value can be obtained .
My love them flows like the sea that never ends.
Kuwaiti hospital doctors and staff love you more than anyone can imagine.
Thank you for making me feel at home

Along the field as we came by
A year ago, my love and I,
The aspen over stile and stone
Was talking to itself alone.
'Oh who are these that kiss and pass?
A country lover and his lass;
Two lovers looking to be wed;
And time shall put them both to bed,
But she shall lie with earth above,
And he beside another love.'

And sure enough beneath the tree
There walks another love with me,
And overhead the aspen heaves
Its rainy-sounding silver leaves;
And I spell nothing in their stir,
But now perhaps they speak to her,
And plain for her to understand
They talk about a time at hand
When I shall sleep with clover clad,
And she beside another lad.

I sit and i watch
the homemade movie
play out in my mind
i see a woman with love and care
in her eyes
and tenderness in her hands
as she holds the baby me
in her arms
i see that woman transform
the dark shadows under her eyes appear
her eyes, nails and teeth yellow
her eyes become dull and lifeless
I see me growing slowly
watching my mother fall apart
as i move from in her arms
to beside her
to all the way away from her
what replaces me in her arms you ask?
A needle
a vial
of a nasty drug
that snatches my mother away from me
so why after i watch my mother **** herself slowly
do i still pick up that joint
and smoke that bowl
or drink that bottle?
because im weak and
Im always looking over my shoulder to see
if she is watching,
if she is seeing me end up just like her
but all i see
is her slowly wasting away to nothing
untill i see myself end up in that same seat
with my daughter looking back at me.