712

Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.

We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—

Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—

Since then—’tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity—

I feel most at home
when my pencil is hitting the paper
or my fingers are hitting the keys

I write to have a voice
a voice that screams to be heard
a voice that has been crying out
for so long

I am no longer willing to sit in silence
I deserve to be heard
and I'll scream until someone listens

My pain has been overlooked
my words have been belittled
my voice has been hushed

But not for any longer

soon the brilliant ides of spring
shall bring such a resplendent ring  
to the meadows and rolling hills
making for grand eye catching thrills

floral displays e'er so divine  
their faces showing on a vine
of scented aromas in frills
a perfume sweet to breathing gills

strolling amid the colors bright
splendor in their superb highlight
exquisite be these rainbows mills  
bursting with shining tonal spills

the news of the season of spring
brings to a winter heart many trills

Thank you

For the body that has defined, gleaming muscles
So lined and lean, like fire and rope all twisted into you

Thank you

For the hair that it constantly slicked back into that perpetual wave
The sideburns that come down to your chin and turn into stubble

Thank you

For the awesome acting
And insane explosions you can walk away from unharmed

Thank you

For the face that could make angels weep
That holds so much beauty that I crumble inside

Thank you

For the accent that takes on a lilt from Britain when you aren't on set
A hint of something else enriching the tone

Thank you

For being 40 something
Because otherwise you wouldn't be safe from me

Thank you

For being Hugh Jackman

The fisherman’s swapping a yarn for a yarn
Under the hand of the village barber,
And her in the angle of house and barn
His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.

At anchor she rides the sunny sod
As full to the gunnel of flowers growing
As ever she turned her home with cod
From George’s bank when winds were blowing.

And I judge from that elysian freight
That all they ask is rougher weather,
And dory and master will sail by fate
To seek the Happy Isles together.

I could sit here and write you a thousand poems
Millions of letters thrown across a page
In attempts for you to understand
That I'm truly and undoubtedly
In love with you.
And I know with all my heart
That you love her.
It kills me inside to listen
You trip up on your words with laughter
Because just thinking about her
Causes you to lose yourself in thought.
You scrunch up your nose a little
And a smile toys at the edge of your mouth
As your fingers twist at your clothes or hair
Usually you sigh slightly leaning forward looking off
And I watch you fall for her more and more each day.
You're beautiful when you're in love.
I just wish you had worn that dress for me to admire
Maybe then I wouldn't feel so bad about doing it anyways.