poetry

THE RUNAWAY

CONVICTION OF AN INNOCENT SOUL

I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD

WOLF STORY

BUTTERFLY COLLECTION

These was written by a good friend

MY FOUR FAVORITE POEMS

Dangerous Men

You are one of them . . .
I want to press my nose
against the window of your life
I am interested and fearful
My skin crawls with anticipation . . .
This is the best fear
I have ever felt . . .

Contradiction

My life is full
Everything rushing, moving
Everyone pulling, needing
Nothing relaxing, soothing
No one asking, helping
My life is empty

BEAUTIFUL

I feel beautiful . . .
Not because of what I see when I look at myself

I feel beautiful
Because of what he sees when he looks at me

I hope he looks at me like this forever

MY POETRY

REACHING

I search for something
I can see it
It is there beyond my grasp
I reach out . . .
My hands touch emptiness

I ache for something
I can sense it
It is there beyond my grasp
I cry out . . .
My hands touch lonliness

I hunger for something
I can feel it
He is there beyond my grasp
I reach out . . .
My hands touch indifference

My hands will keep reaching

MISSING

It's not possible . . . I know
But I fell in love with you
that day
I don't know why
And I don't know how . . .
It seems like . . .
We have been together . . .
Or spent Sunday mornings in bed
I knew what it would feel like to have you
Lean over and whisper something
That only you and I would understand . . .
So . . .
When you are not here with me
I feel empty . . .
Like you have caught something in me
And ripped it away . . .

I love you . . .
And I don't even know you
I know it's not possible . . .
But it's true . . .

There was a time I didn't know
you . . . And
I didn't miss you then
at all

I didn't ask that you
take care of me, but
only that you care for me
. . . there is quite a difference
in the two.

The first assumes that I need help
and the second only love

FAILING UPWARDS

~POETRY~



	Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall, We stopped by a mountain pasture to say 'Whose colt?' A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall, The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head And snorted at us. And then he had to bolt. We heard the miniature thunder where he fled, And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey, Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes. 'I think the little fellow's afraid of the snow. He isn't winter-broken. It isn't play With the little fellow at all. He's running away. I doubt if even his mother could tell him, "Sakes, It's only weather". He'd think she didn't know ! Where is his mother? He can't be out alone.' And now he comes again with a clatter of stone And mounts the wall again with whited eyes And all his tail that isn't hair up straight. He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies. 'Whoever it is that leaves him out so late, When other creatures have gone to stall and bin, Ought to be told to come and take him in.'
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, The stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company; I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought What wealth to me the show had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. William Wordsworth


There are words I've saved, Words I don't want to use too much Cause They might wear out. I saved some words mostly becuase There are days When I can't stay kissed. Days when all my confidence Wears off, When I'm porous And just have to have More of you To fill me in. Hold me.
		It's that feeling In the pit of the stomach We call it butterflies . . . It doesn't happen often But Santa Claus Can do it When you're four And certain men Can catch you by surprise Nearly scare you Half to death With no more Than Their eyes . . . Labor pains Can do it Especially if they're yours I've heard that people Get them most Just outside Front doors They say that Dorothy had them On her way to Oz And phones . . . Oh yes They're a common cause So add to your collection It's harder now than then The more you live The less they come And sometimes Not again


			I believe in love at first sight For each time we meet again after parting I fall in love with you once more, Each time more deeply than the last And Each Time my heart breaks at your leaving. My thoughts turn to you often each day. I remeber your smile, your laugh, Your sadness and your pain. You resonate within me, as a bell That chimes clear and rich Filling the world with music. Each night, I hold you, in my heart Synchronizing my breath with yours I drift to sleep, Where, in my dreams, I can see you again.
Does God cry? Does He sit within the hallowed halls of Heaven and weep? Iron bars of words, heard within the privacy of blonde hair and smiles, form doors. Gates impenetrable and hard. Chains made of thoughts, alien to this child with an angel�s face, rip and tear. Open wounds laying waste to joy. Invisible strings attached to the limbs of a delicate, gentle puppet make steps and motions. Convulsions with neither reason nor rhyme. Does God cry? Does He sit within the hallowed halls of Heaven and weep?