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just give me a sign
help me find my life tonight
touching trees together
four letter words
i left her again...
2011
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
 Aug 2014 Sophia Trejo
Kataleya
The beauty of a woman
is in the poems she's wrote,
the dreams she's weaved
and all the stories she's told.

The beauty of a woman
is in the adventures she's taken,
the lives she's touched
and all the minds she's awakened.

The beauty of a woman
is in the caring she gives,
the sincerity in her laughter,
and the passion in her griefs.

It's not the expensive clothes she owns,
her body size, the diamonds she's worn.
Measure not the beauty of woman in gold,
for the beauty of a woman is reflected in her soul.
Dedicated to all women out there with an amazing mind and a beautiful soul. We are the gift of nature, soft enough to touch the core of others and strong enough to protect that and those important to us. I love you all. Believe in yourself and the world will believe in your power.

I'm honored to have it as the daily poem.
 Aug 2014 Sophia Trejo
RF
Gay
 Aug 2014 Sophia Trejo
RF
Gay
If I wasn't gay would people care?
Would they actually let me breath the same air?
Could I actually go to school,
without people being so cruel?
Could I live in a world with no hate?
Maybe people would love me if I was straight.
It's not as easy as people think.
I can't just go to a shrink.
I didn't choose to be this way.
You really think I'd want to be gay?
I don't want attention,
I don't want fame.
This isn't some sort of game.
I am who I am and thats okay.
Most people don't see it that way.
I only wish I could be the same.
To have a wedding and it not be shamed.
I want to have kids and not be judged.
I don't want my reputation smudged.
But apparently I'm different now.
Sick in the head somehow.
Therapy and shock treatment for something that can't be fixed.
How did I get put into this mix?
Toxic and tragic,
that's my life.  
It's like I was stabbed in the back with a knife.
I'm gay,
what's wrong with that?
I get treated like some rat.
Using your holy books and your religion.
To fight against something that makes no difference.
I want to be a human not a punching bag.
Always getting called a ***.
Let that word have power and it gets to you.
But that words as good as whatever is stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
I love being this way.
I don't care what you say.
These empty rooms
devoid of life,
behind a bookcase
in the hall.
This was, for a time,
our home
while the Germans
held the Dutch in thrall.
My wife since dead from huger,
my daughters in a common grave.
I, Otto Frank, the sole survivor.
Is there no one I can save?
Annelise, my dearest daughter,
Miep Gies gave me your book.
The Germans cast it on the floor
without a second look.
Here in your words I find
perhaps not all of you has died.
Here in print your words may speak
for all who suffered, all who cried.
Its small comfort for an old man,
broken, ready for the grave,
but my girl might be a symbol
for all those we could not save.
Otto Frank's discovery of the diary that would become known as the diary of Anne Frank. She would have turned 85 this year had she lived
Here a star and there a star
They destined our rendezvous,
For ages we were drifted far
And now we meet anew.

We belong to the same land
Common are our memories,
Playing together hand-in-hand
How we ignored worldly worries!

With time, taking our own paths
Estranged we, more and more
Like two ships voyaging strange seas
Set off from a common shore.

Chasing clock ticks, we forgot
How long we had been away
Amassed feelings jump a lot
When we meet again today.

And it all pours down like rain,
When old stories are again told
Time moves not and still remains
As the children in us unfold.
Aug 5th 2014
Reflections on meeting an old friend
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