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Et cetera Feb 2016
When you came into my life
I stopped counting words
fears and doubts
I still have them, but then
I also have you.

Counting is a strange thing
I can count my books
(I have a lot of them)
I can count your poems
(You have a lot of them)
I can count the years we've lived
(May we live more, together)
I can count my qualities
And I can count my scars
I can count the events which changed me
I might even be able to count yours
I can even count the stars
If I set my mind to it
It seems more possible
Than counting the goodness
Which you have in you

I cannot count the smiles you've given me
(They are more than the stars)
I cannot count the advice you've given me
(I hold it close to heart)
I cannot count the love you have for me
(It makes me laugh and cry when I try)
I cannot count the time I want to spend with you
(The conventions of hours won't accept it)
I cannot count your person
(You hold too much inside you)
Your depth and your beauty
(And everything that doesn't have a name)

So since I fell in love with you, Hamid
I've discovered that I don't try counting
Numbers lost their meaning
And I've never been good at math anyway.
Et cetera Dec 2015
I remember the day we met, I remember it clear as day
I can trace my joy back to it , the way I trace the lines on your palm
I can feel the early moments still, like I feel you next to me in bed
I hear your early serenades coast over my senses, the way your hands caressed my face this morn

I remember the night of rain, the one which drenched our soul with love
I can trace my joy back to it, the way I hugged you under the moonlight breeze
I can feel your warm embrace still, like I feel you inside my heart, I gaze at the stars, they form an exceptional constellation depicting our name, we're written in the heavens
I look into your eyes from distance, and I see myself, the way the immortal sky sees itself in the majestic ocean

I remember the eve of sorrow, which brought a tornado in our lives
I remember it like I remember the day the skies settled for us, and the clouds cushioned our fall
I can trace my joy back to that sorrow, the way I trace your jawline, with kisses all the way
I can feel the rush of happy tears now, as I reminisce the tears I witnessed in your eyes, the day I got to hold you close
I remember the eve of sorrow, I remember it like the way you kissed my cheek an hour ago
I feel the tingle of your touch every time, the way I felt that first time, on the dewy eve, as it solidified into our forever
A collaboration between myself and Hamid Khan (http://hellopoetry.com/overratedshakespeare/)
  Oct 2015 Et cetera
Brider Olen
imagine you're standing at the edge of a beach, looking into the water. it's a beautiful beach, the best you've ever been to.
the water is pure, the sand is soft.
and it's all yours, this wonderful beach. as you're standing there, you see a tsunami approaching.
you can't believe it, this tsunami is about to tear apart your
sacred beach, and you with it.
you yell, you scream, you think of everything possible to try and stop this tsunami from coming, but on it rages.
it reaches you and you're immediately knocked off your feet, drowning in the mad water.
it pushes and pulls you in a million different directions
and you choke on its waves.

do you fight?
of course you do. this is your beach.
the tsunami has no right to be here.
you'll be strong and fight until this tsunami goes away. and so you do. you kick and you swim and you keep your head above water and finally,
your feet reach the ground again.
miraculously, when you look around, your beach is still intact.
the sand is still soft at the touch,
and the water is the purest of blues again.
but you're barely able to catch your breath for a second before you see in the distance another tsunami headed towards you and your wonderful beach.

you can't believe it.
again its waves swallow you and you're not as strong as you were when the first tsunami hit.

do you fight?
of course you do.
..right?
it's harder to keep your head above water this time,
and the waves pull you under until you're at your breaking point.
you don't know which way is up or down,
and when you reach the ground again,
this time it's your knees that touch the soft sand,
not your feet.
you're shaken. a little weak, but otherwise okay.
you get to your feet, look out into the water, and your heart stops. another tsunami headed your way...

you're not sure you're going to make it as the 8th tsunami
takes its turn on you.
you've been underwater for minutes and you can feel the last of your oxygen being used up.
it's your instinct to fight, but how much more can you really give?
your body is weak and your mind isn't far behind.

do you fight?
do you fight for your beach?
you think of its perfection and it dawns on you that no one in their right mind would give up a beach like that.
so you should fight.
shouldn't you?
you don't know anymore.
is it worth it?

the beauty of the beach is matched by the terror of the tsunamis.
it's not possible for you to have one without the other.

you don't have to make your decision this time,
because as your still deciding,
you feel your back rest upon the warm, soft sand.
you're lying down and you don't even have the energy
to lift your head up.
but you hear it.
you hear the terrifying tsunami racing towards you.

i hear the terrifying tsunami racing towards me.
do i brace myself for the fight?
do i stand up and face this tsunami head on?
do i keep still and accept defeat?
will i let the water rush over me and stop fighting?

..what would you do if it were you?
Circa 2012.
Et cetera Oct 2015
Look up in the sky; the Sparrow and the Canary

The Sparrow and the Canary met over a pond
They stared at their reflections and wondered upon
How the Sparrow saw yellow and the Canary saw brown
Here I write there story as the fly across town

It needs not flowery words nor delicate strokes
It needs not lengthy books nor layered cloaks
It is pure and true, and flies like the birds
It is earth, fire, wind and water in thirds

The mackerel sky tells their tale
The seven seas, the waves, the sand, the hale
All wildfires of the world burn in their passion
There resides the story, free of one nation


And here flies the Canary, in wing the Sparrow
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