perhaps it is the weather
a prolonged absence of the sun
or presence of the winter cold
or just a temporary fashion

the media as well as many webbéd sites
simply abound with dreary blather
     of lovers lost and death so cold
     the lonesomeness of every single soul
     and how s/he suffers when s/he writes
spelled out at length with no discretion

we know that people suffer from depression
or unquenchable anger at the world
and how through proper treatments
you can considerably relieve the pain

fix them in words is one of them
    but may not be enough
sometimes a mix of pills and pen
may do the trick and help you
    write yourself through your misty prison walls
    discover unlocked doors hidden in plain sight
    step out into the sunshine
        from the darkest night

you are the sun
    whose radiance illuminates the world
    lends brilliance to your life
    sheds light on everything you’ve done

and soon you’ll notice
even the weather is getting bether …

there are the times
when clouds obscure our view
of blue ethereal skies
and our world grows dark and desolate

days are monotonous and gray
nothing can put a smile into our face
we see the whole confounded human race
doomed to pernicion and without God’s grace

this is the time when it is useful to remember
that it is YOU who calls the shots
YOU who decides what road to follow
YOU who determines where to go
rest, linger, or proceed

so you can truly say
these are the actions of yourself
for which you need

nobody else

this poem
is not about you

even though
your spirit is in every word
your voice sounds strong
in the halls of my mind
telling me things
I am now sure
I want to know

this poem is
about me

trying to understand
you

He told me once he would name our daughter after the places we had been or flowers he picked for me.

He said he would name her Carolina, not Caroline, and he would remember those humid summer nights we spent watching the sunset.

He said he'd name her Daisy, because he knew my favorite was flowers and he would buy her anything she desired to make her as happy as me.

He told me this once, a long time ago, back when we were young and before we really thought about life. Back before I knew what I wanted and *** to react when he said he wanted kids.

I told him I hoped our son has his green eyes and his sandy blonde, but turning darker each year, hair.

I told him I hoped our son had his spark and his sarcastic smile so I could always remember he had the good pieces of his father, the parts I laughed about.

I told him that before things changed, before we both spun out of control and closer to the flames.

Now we sit on opposite sides of the country and we talk to different people about kids and love. And we wonder, where things could have been if we hadn't become so lost in ourselves  for once.

I won't sit down
I won't shut up
To be quite honest
I'm fed up.
I have a voice,
I will be heard
And when I speak,
you'll wait your turn.
I may be small,
but my thoughts are loud.
My words have power,
of that I'm proud.

The sun is out,the sky is clear
something we're not used to  here.

Where are the clouds?
I want them back
the sun is shining
but I want the clouds to attack

******* sun
stop seeping through
the clouds are back
but so are you