Read my poems,
though read them right.
You can't just read them like
you are reading a book,
And think "this is not that good".
What is this?
These are words from my heart,
Don't underestimate.
The power contained in each word,
Sings a tune,
Read it like that,
Like a song,
that's the way it deserves to be read.
You then might feel what I feel
and appreciate each word
And let them touch your heart,
and truly understand what's being said.
Each word a journey of my hearts content,
Or its losses,
Some possibly written with tears dripping,
On the keyboard,
true emotions,
Deserve respect.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

It was a room crowded by people.
They talked in groups with so much eager.
But beneath the laughter and joyous sight
was a girl who saw not the light.
And there she was, standing
in the corner, just pretending
that she was happy to be around,
when, really, she was screaming with no sound.

Everyone was so happy,
but all she wanted was to flee.
None of those people cared of her!
Why should she stay and drown in fear?
None of them even noticed her there!
Like she was just another gust of air.

When there was yet another party,
who got uninvited? None but she!
When there was a share of cake,
She was lucky she could have a take.
Then  why? Why did she stick around?
It hit her. Because for another year is she bound.

I think of your poems when I'm in a crowd.
I memorize your lines and recite them out loud
into a sea of unsuspecting faces,
so that they fall in love with words, like I did yours;
strung together by the wisdom of your golden graces.

I want to bask in the glory of sharing your story,
and celebrate tonight in honor of you.
If I make your poetry a part of my life,
can I become a part of yours too?

I will tell you of their laughter and smiles.
How they wept, danced, rejoiced -
how the whole crowd went wild.

I want you to hear of their praises because I think you're divine.
I'll spend the rest of my days writing odes of thanks.
Forever indebted to you and your kind
for letting your words become mine.