| Look the trees are alive... |
| Truthful Eyes I'll love you for you if you'll love me for me. That's what everyone says, that's what everyone is taught. Then why don't they mean it. People lie straight-faced through their teeth. Even so -- one in a few somehow I found you. You who lies only to save, save feelings better not hurt. Love not destroyed. And you, you accept me for me as I -- I accept you for you. |
| When I Think Of You Some just see your purple hair or the double earrings. Some only remember the plays or musicals or show choir performances. Other still remember te band concerts -- stage band or when you play the piano. I think of all of these, when I think of you and yet so much more. I think of the times, the times when you make me laugh even though I am down or when you buy me a rose (even if it is with my own money.) I think of your warm voice when you are happy and the tremble in it when your upset. Your beautiful smile and warm embrace. All these things and more, I remember. These are what I think of when I think of you. And I can't wait to see you agian. |
| Connected By Differences Some see you as a freak, as a weirdo, as Different. But I only see you as my friend, my confidont, my shelter because you are my best friend. No matter what people think you are or who you decide to be. I will accept you for you because I know you accept me for me. No matter where we go or what we do, together, apart, near or far. We will still be together, connected by differences, connected by our hearts. |
| All poems Copyright 2000 |
| Tragedy Revolves Silence ends and silence begins as day and night become one, it all begins agian. The pain, the sorrow, the loss and grief. So many questions and so few answers. Is this the way life revolves? Will it ever stay the same or do we move from one tragedy to the next? As the circle revolves and life turns, we move on maybe to another tragedy or maybe just maybe (one can only hope) we will move on to a happy time and a happy place. |
| Walk the Halls The smells, the sights, the sounds. Wet paint, cooking food, masses of perfume. Teenagers huddled in groups laughing and smiling, comparing clothes and shoes and hair. Oh, the precious hair. All the perfect ones huddled in a group, laughing at someone anyone they can to bring up their day. We all have some of them in us. A little, a lot, or all which are you? We will find out as you walk these halls, smell the familiar smells, see the usual sights and hear, hear the same condescending sounds. |
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