For some, poetry is something to accomplish; mastering rhythm, flow, and rhyme is something to work at. But to others, creating poetry comes naturally. We are, at times, simply the middlemen between our hearts and the page. There is no thought necessary, we need only to open our hearts and give freedom to our hands to allow the magic to happen. We are adept at capturing the feelings that seem least easily described, at finding that hidden spot deep inside our beings that never quite heals. And, often, we can crawl into the thoughts, actions, and feelings of another and write, not as ourselves, but as those we love. Poetry can say a lot in a few words. It can say the things that are impossible to say aloud, give forgiveness, and most importantly, heal.
Most of my poetry is written for myself, but there are pieces here for the people who have touched my life, however briefly, and they know who they are.
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2001
Petals whisper softly
as they drift along the breeze,
and harmony is humming
with the flowers and the bees.
I drift along and dream
with my head up in the clouds,
while the lush green grass is rustling
playing games upon my brows.
A meadowlark is darting,
chasing fantasies and having fun,
and the bubbling creek is listening
as I squint into the sun.
Up upon the hilltop
a red hawk sails away,
and I listen to the quiet sounds
of a brand new glistening day.
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2001
Words spill like water -
tumbling, crushing -
not making much sense.
No idea
how to arrange -
my thoughts, these words -
So confused...
Feelings surface.
My heart
is in my throat -
fluttering, straining -
to break free.
A rush:
Inspiration.
A calming touch -
the world
makes sense.
For now.
Until the next time;
a racing heart, sweating palms -
shaking, fevered -
Calm.
For the poets and writers of CA
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2001
I yearn to fly:
to be free,
to soar,
to leave behind the frailties
and restrictions
of human mortality.
I yearn to dream:
to make fantasies,
to wonder,
to see places never heard of,
and do things never dreamt of,
impossible in a world of strife.
I yearn to sing:
to let go the millions
of words I�m
unable to express,
unable to form,
in this so-called world of free speech.
I yearn to paint:
to feel the flow
of thoughts upon paper,
to loose my hand,
and let it wander at will,
to bring color to this black-and-white world.
But most of all�
I yearn to be free:
free of responsibility,
of decisions that must be made.
I want to go back:
To be innocent.
To be needy.
To be loved for who I am,
and not what I represent.
To be young.
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2002
Take a picture,
cause I�m changing fast.
Take a picture,
I�m going and I�m not coming back.
Take a picture,
do you know who I am?
Take a picture,
here�s where I�ll begin.
An achy-hearted teenager,
acting tough but feeling weak,
Na�ve and sometimes scared,
not always knowing how to speak.
A lover of the quiet,
there�s no animal she won�t adore,
always knowing that she�d be the one
that everyone ignores.
Never showing how she�s feeling,
keeping all the hurt inside,
wishing that someone would make
a �how to live life� guide.
Making friends when possible,
being kind the best she can,
hoping she won�t always be
the loser who always ran.
Standing tall is what she�s best at,
speaking out is what she�s not,
she�s shy but gives her laughter,
tries to remember what she�s taught.
She�s grown up much too quickly,
many people didn�t see,
now she�s a very different girl
then who she used to be.
Take a picture,
'cause I�m changing.
Take a picture,
can�t you see?
Take a picture,
'cause I won�t always be
who you want me to be.
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2002
I took a trip down memory lane today,
a thousand footsteps had paved the way.
Reliving memories good and bad,
I tried real hard not to become too sad.
From times of pain and times of tears,
to big, warm smiles and silly fears.
These memories, each little part,
have helped me through and shaped my heart.
Friendships come and friendships go,
but walking memory lane I know;
the good times that long ago we shared,
for a little while I know you cared.
Some people are gone, the memories dim,
others lost forever, the prospect is grim.
but some are the same, they never change,
some things from long ago I still find strange.
Memory lane is long and old,
and as I near the end all the stories are told.
But memory lane will never really end,
as long as I�m living there will always be another bend.
For Kate
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2002
Won�t type
Screen froze
More and more
Frustration grows
Bad memory
Worse drive
Don�t know how long
It will survive
Just saved
Screen�s black
Paper and pen,
I think I�ll go back!
After yet another fight with my 'puter...
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2002
Born to stand out,
why do you try to hide,
try to conform?
The answer is simple:
you don�t want to be known
as different,
though you want to
be yourself.
The unwritten and unspoken
laws of society
forbid the thought of
being individual,
being you.
So you conform,
squeeze yourself into the shape
of something you�re not,
of something everyone else is.
But it isn�t you.
But you are not �brave� enough
to stand out
and break free.
So you continue to conform
and keep all of your
potential
and spirit
hidden.
Hidden inside the shell
you have chosen for yourself.
For it has not been
forced upon you,
but you have chosen
to shoulder it anyway.
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2002
Arm in arm they roam the halls;
heads inclined to one another,
they hear only the words the other speaks.
Now and then they giggle
at something only they know.
No one else is invited into their world.
A world where, temporarily, nothing is wrong.
No clouds cross the sun,
just as no worries cross their minds.
For now they are content.
Content to just be,
two girls walking
in their own little world.
Content to be
best friends.
For "My Annie"
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2002
Alone and scared
and on my own,
I thought my heart
was overgrown
with lies, betrayals,
and terrors deep,
the only peace
I�d ever find was in sleep.
Hiding from the future
and concealing the past,
I thought I�d never have
a friendship to last;
to carry the load
on my own was my job,
though the secrets I hide
would cause you to sob.
Hiding from all
and wearing a mask,
�Fine� was the answer
to any caring to ask.
When I thought myself lost,
alone with no care,
I turned round to find
I had many friends standing there.
For my "online" friends
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2002
I, too, wear a mask,
seeking the silence
to which I
wish to surrender.
I watch in silence,
from behind my fa�ade,
observing and noting
the ways in which
you, too, hide
behind your mask.
We�re so alike,
you and I,
yet neither knows
what to say.
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2002
I struggle against you
and hide my face,
I close my eyes
and resist your embrace.
I�ve built up a wall
of unimaginable strength
to hold you away
at at least an arm�s length.
I�ve blocked you out
and I�ve shut myself in,
I�m trying not to let you
get under my skin.
I�m trying to ignore you,
trying not to see,
and all the while I�m waiting
for a chance to flee.
I�ve been given obstacles,
I�ve been taught to fear,
I�ve been told to hang on,
and I�ve felt you standing near.
When you�re here I stiffen,
and hope you don�t want in,
but at your insistence
my defence is wearing thin.
I really don�t want to,
but yet I feel I must;
learn to live and love again,
and again learn how to trust.
For those who put up with my silence.
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2003
Murmuring in the darkness,
muttering alone by day,
devoid of all emotion
and brushing sympathy away.
The world is but a bleak stone
against which I toil in vain,
wishing for some peace, or love,
but knowing it is only a cruel game;
A game disguised as life,
but which only leads through hell;
a life that is but a mirage,
a blank wall I know so well.
Take away the happiness,
and cover up the scars,
wash away all feeling,
leave me staring blankly at the stars.
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2003
A silent heart,
dreams unsaid,
flirting with pain,
a wish to be dead.
A tortured soul,
pleas unheard,
unhidden pain
in every word.
A head bowed low,
a hope relinquished,
a downtrodden spirit,
and tears distinguished.
I sit miles away,
in worry and fear,
for a friend unseen
who believes I can�t hear
the pain in her words
and the plea in her voice;
Who believes she�s alone -
alone, with no choice.
So I sit and I fret,
and I ache for my friend,
and I hope that she�ll realise
I�ll be there till the end.
For a friend
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2003
In dark silence you softly cry
for years to come and days gone by;
for childhood songs and adult fears,
for all the world, you shed your tears.
Neither living nor existing,
your world�s stable yet ever twisting;
Taking chances, hanging back,
life is slow when on the fast track;
Your face is open but ever barred,
your heart is whole, but yet it�s scarred;
The past is but memory, the future but dreams,
reality isn�t always what it seems;
Hate is loving, love is hate,
what you once knew you now debate.
You�re caged although you�re free,
you cry for all the world to see.
An exercise in opposites
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2003
�Neath angel�s wings I search the sky;
�neath angels wings I softly cry -
for a soul so good, so pure, so true,
a soul who knows not what to do;
A gentle soul with hidden light
who fears he�s trapped in darkest night.
And as I stand beneath the stars,
I realise we all bear scars;
scars of war, of pain unjust
that make it hard to really trust.
But on angel�s wings I send out my soul,
though battered and not completely whole,
to wrap my friend, my special friend,
in love and peace without an end.
For 'The Bard'
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2003
She always cared for them,
and hoped they cared for her;
of course her family did,
but others - she was never sure.
Now she hates to worry them,
but she knows that it feels good
to know that her friends care for her:
she had thought they never would.
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2003
Hiding the pain behind the words,
pretending she doesn�t want to be heard;
Facing friends and hearing them,
saying not a word of how she�s condemned;
Telling not a soul that she�s dying inside,
instead takes their burdens along on her ride;
Satisfying darkness�s endless thirst,
knowing if anything, it will only get worse.
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2004
Spring shows her face
in mysterious ways
calling out flowers,
although the cold stays;
Bringing back birds
that gracefully fly
in winging formations
across the blue sky;
Coaxing the squirrel
out of his nest
in search of refreshment
after long winter�s rest;
Inviting the children
to come out and play
and splash in the puddles
as the sun fades away;
Reawaking in people
a spirit at rest,
inducing a feeling
of joy in the chest;
Bringing people to nature
though far they stray,
and drawing eyes skyward
at the end of the day.
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2004
A mother, by definition,
is she who raises a child
but a mother, to a youngster,
is caring, soft, and mild.
She�s someone to look up to,
to run to with your fears,
to check under the bed at night,
and wipe away your tears.
The one that you can call on
when you don�t know what to do,
who, without ever asking,
all your troubles knew.
The one that knows the answers
to things when you�re unsure,
who takes your hand and guides you,
and helps you to mature.
Above all else she loves you
with all that�s in her heart,
and she makes sure that you know it,
right from the very start.
And the love that you receive
can never be replaced,
for though it rests in your heart,
to her own in can be traced.
For all my Moms
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2004
It's hard to capture the memory
when the fleeting moment�s gone,
and though you cant keep all of them,
you know that life goes on;
And every person you�ve ever met
has left a mark or two,
and all the friends you won't forget
have helped you become you.
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2004
How I longed to sparkle,
to be important in your eye,
and so I hid much of myself,
and never let you see me cry.
All the things you said, I�d research,
try to all your knowledge know,
so I could one day be your equal,
and to me yourself you�d show.
But all I did was not enough
to even catch your eye;
the only word you ever spoke
to me was a goodbye.
But of my task I never tired,
and if you had just once smiled
it would have been enough for me,
but to you I am just a child.
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Fall, 2004
The chill of coming winter fills the air;
the tingling kiss of snow
frosts the lashes of my eyes
as icy winds that blow
strip the branches of their leaves,
leave them shivering and bare,
and the touch of frost on rooftops
makes me painfully aware
of the impending clutch of winter
that is quickly drawing nigh
when only pencil line skeletons
will be silhouetted against the sky.
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2004
The rain patters endlessly,
the wind howls my name,
throwing names, memories,
things I can never forget.
Relentlessly they rage,
Tear the leaves from the trees,
wash the dust from the world;
And yet I stand, untouched,
wishing that it could also
scour clean my soul.
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2004
So many things to comment on,
so many comments left unsaid;
But how to say how you make me feel,
how I�m touched by the things I�ve read?
So many friends and artists here
who, with simple verse and line,
portray these pieces of their lives
and intertwine with mine.
It's hard to find the right words, sometimes...
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November, 2004
The drums beat out the thunder
of cannons long ago,
horns raise their mournful voices
as the story is retold.
Finally, the summit,
a crescendo of sound.
Sudden silence,
and reverent voices ring out;
A waterfall of notes,
but one above the rest:
A single, pure note rings true.
Silence.
Then, a gentle ascent
of chimes and flutes,
voices and instruments meld
to a simple melody.
Ghosts float above the crowd,
awakened in memories,
remembered in song,
and never forgotten.
The nameless, the famous,
all have a place.
All are remembered,
all are thanked.
Lest we forget.
In Remembrance, November 11, 2004.
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2005
Sometimes she yearns so strongly
for some one to lend an ear,
to listen as her heart speaks,
for some one to really hear.
So many things she never says,
many secrets safe she keeps,
sorrows and terrors dwell within,
and haunt her as she sleeps.
If only someone would listen,
and let her know they heard,
if only they would listen,
they need never say a word.
For Caitie, in whom I found someone to listen.
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2005
The choice, perhaps, was mine to make
but perhaps it was yours too;
again twirl through this dizzying dance
always just apart, we two.
Perchance we want two different things,
I support and you a friend,
could we not try, just take it slow,
and this fragile bud both tend?
We both have our own paths to take,
both have our pasts, things to forget,
though for a while I turned from you,
I made a choice I now regret.
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Spring, 2005
Tiny rays of sunshine
set upon my desk,
vibrant yellow petals
herald the season I love best.
Silent sunshine trumpeters
who, unafraid of lingering snow,
in spite of freezing temperatures
still in my garden grow.
Six-pointed stars of springtime
barren, snow-bound gardens fill,
first sign of the coming season:
the sunshine-yellow daffodil.
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2005
Such a fickle thing is poetry,
finding meter, rhythm, rhyme;
Always calls for inspiration
when you haven�t got the time.
Even poets have problems with poetry
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2005
We used to talk to so often
and now it seems we never do.
We briefly say hello, goodbye
never time to carry through
with all the things to talk about,
tales to share, and laughter too.
I want to say I miss you,
miss our chats, miss our goodbyes,
I want to say I think of you,
As the days are flowing by.
You�re always in my thoughts, you know
in my heart and soul as well;
I often find some little thing
and think of you, to share, to tell.
Or store away a curious word
that you may know, may like, may spell.
Perhaps it wasn�t meant to be,
I of new world, you of old.
Perhaps we spoke to oft�, to true,
perhaps our tales have all been told.
But in my heart I think I know
that that cannot really be true
for in my soul a light still burns,
born of that love received from you.
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2005
The room is warm and cosy,
the atmosphere relaxed.
The silence is not awkward,
the conversation�s lax.
We talk about the brighter things
and little things like hope,
and when the subject turns around
we talk of how to cope.
We share with each other all the things
no one else would understand,
and if there�s something we can�t talk about,
of the other we won�t demand.
There is a special bond we share,
that�s helped us carry on,
of understanding, pain, and love,
from which strength can be drawn.
For my best friends.
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2005
So oft I stare with longing
at your name upon the screen;
How long I sit here waiting
for it to change from red to green.
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2005
I spend my time with friends,
even when I�m all alone,
and they are always near me,
though they live in worlds unknown:
Their gentle voices guide me
through uncertainty and fear,
and their hugs are there to warm me,
their arms to hold me near.
I can share with them my happiness,
my sorrows and my tears;
No matter what the story is
they always lend their ears.
It�s funny how I care for them,
these strangers far away,
who was to know those I�ve never met
would become so much part of my day?
In the vast, mysterious world of the 'net, there are those who win our hearts...
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Winter, 2005
Open the flood gates, just let it all go;
the feelings, the dealings, the things you don�t show;
It�s all in the laughter, it�s all in the pain,
you�re stuck on the chorus, can�t write the refrain;
The bridge it ain't holding, the past�s not around,
cant keep looking backwards, get your eyes off the ground;
If it�s love that you�re after, then it�s love that you�ll get,
can't make it come fast, just isn�t here yet;
There�s millions of voices resound in your head,
and plenty of reasons to regret things you�ve said;
The thunder comes faster, the lightning strikes hard,
you�re liking the danger, alone in the yard;
Afraid that you�re losing, afraid of what's lost,
hold onto the fragments, whatever the cost.
Sometimes it's good to just let go for a while...
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May, 2006
So often the sirens
bring sailors to dwell
with the rocks and the wreckage
'neath the ocean's great swell.
They tempt you with friendship,
with treasures, with gold,
but when you get closer
the truth then unfolds.
And then, as with spiders,
there's no going back -
the rocks, like the webbing,
will give you no slack;
they'll pound you and crush you,
pull tighter the bind,
'till your heart is left bleeding
and you're losing your mind.
Then it'll seem you're alone,
it'll seem no one cares,
and, alone on the ocean,
you'll give in to despair.
But there are, in the webbing,
a few who's hearts ache,
who linger in shadow,
who've seen your heart break;
and if they had the courage
to reach out their hands,
to tell you they love you,
that they understand,
would it help pull you back
from the edge of disater?
Would it help your poor heart
to heal a bit faster?
For if it will help,
a little, at all,
I give you my hand,
and my heart, and my all.
In response: For KB
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Spring, 2006
It would seem I�ve misplaced something,
but I don�t know what it is;
I can�t quite put my finger on it,
but there�s something that I miss.
It took a while to figure out,
but I realized in the end
only one thing leaves a hole this big:
the absence of a friend.
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Spring, 2006
A cool nose caresses my cheek,
two soft paws pat my face.
Bristly whiskers tickle my nose
and sweet purring fills my ears.
Feather-light footsteps -
paws walk the tightrope
of my curled form
before finally settling,
a vibrating warmth,
on my chest.
I open my eyes to the new day
and am met by the peaceful gaze
of my furry best friend.
For Pez
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Spring, 2006
Inspiration fills an empty thought
as darkness fills the lack of light;
a string of iridescent words
draw forth the stars to fill the night;
aloneness fills an empty space
as water flows to fill a gap;
room to spread and edit thought
gives way to moisten that which lacks
the inspiration to create,
the room needed to conceive
the hopes and dreams on which we thrive,
and all of that which we believe.
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Spring, 2006
Oh to be remembered
like a sunny summer's day,
a bit of joy to ease the loneliness
once I have gone away.
But sorrow lingers longest
and brings no comfort from the pain,
and I'll be as a storm to you,
no respite from the rain.
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April, 2006
A hug is such a simple thing
when it upon my screen appears.
Just simple lines, but oh what joy,
when sent from ones so dear.
I know not why I did deserve
these hugs from friends afar tonight,
but whatever the reason I know I�m loved
and they have made my evening bright.
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Spring, 2006
Chatting with Chandler
Walking past his house each day
it�s never hard to find things to say;
Hello my friend, the weather�s nice,
have you been catching lots of mice?
I hear next door there�s a new cat,
now tell me what you think of that;
I�m glad to see you�re doing fine,
you�re always out, in rain or shine;
Dear friend I would so like to stay,
but I�m afraid I should be on my way
for life refuses yet to lend
more time to me to chat with friends.
So goodbye, adieu, so long, take care,
until again we�ve time to spare.
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May, 2006
Words; the weapon, the rose, the thorn,
The ship on which our thoughts are born;
The beacon from the lighthouse bright,
The candle burning in the night;
The knife that cuts, the whip that stings;
The things that pain and sorrow bring;
The secret dream, the wistful thought;
The web in which my heart is caught.
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Spring, 2006
I wonder if I�ve told them
as often as I should
how very much I love them,
how they make my life so good;
I wonder if I�ve told them
just how they make me feel;
How, though they are so far away,
they are to me so real;
I wonder if I�ve told them,
though my silence is often long,
just how much they�ve helped me,
that because of them I�m strong;
I wonder if I�ve told them
all of these things and more;
From the very bottom of my heart,
I all of you adore.
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Spring, 2006
Have I told you
what you mean to me,
a child really,
lost and lonely?
Have I told you
how you saved me,
held the light,
when the darkness trapped me?
Have I told you
that you believed in me
when no one else,
even myself,
did?
Have I told you
you were my guiding stars,
my safe havens,
my anchors,
when my world was crumbling?
And have I told you,
though I'm older now,
you're still the ones I look up to,
the ones I count on,
when the world turns it's back?
You are the ones that found answers
where I saw none.
You gave me hope
when I wanted to give up.
You loved me
when, to the world, I was unlovable.
And you were the voices in my head
when I couldn't think for myself.
Have I told you
that I love you?
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Spring, 2006
Two simple words:
she said,
"it's ok."
and, somehow, it was.
So many unanswered questions,
the seriousness of our conversation,
my utter despair,
her own pain
pushed aside for mine,
and there,
in the cold, lonely woods,
as the first tear
tumbled down my cheek,
she took my hand in hers
and said two words.
And, somehow, it was.
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Summer, 2006
Perhaps I am to much of night
or you too much of day;
perhaps we both have seperate lives
and it should stay that way.
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August, 2006
As mountains smooth to prairie
like wrinkles from a brow released,
the open sky surrounds me,
and I regain a little peace.
For me this is a homecoming,
after I've been far away,
gazing far to the horizon
at the closing of the day.
And though I love the mountains
and all the places that I roam,
nothing beats this feeling -
the rolling prairies are my home.
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Summer, 2006
Some bear the scars upon their skin,
while others bear then far beneath,
upon the hearts and souls of those
who struggle, as I do, with peace.
There are those who long to escape the pain,
those who long for respite from the fear,
there are those who deal by drawing away,
and those who long only for someone near.
And though I wish that I could help them,
show them that they're not alone,
I know we have our demons each
and I must first face mine, alone.
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Summer, 2006
Ghosts of the past surround me,
and whisper in the dark;
they place the blame upon my head
and worse, upon my heart.
They tell me of the pain I've caused,
and though I know they are not right,
their voices are insistent
and haunt me through the night.
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Summer, 2006
We keep on saying someday
but what if someday never comes?
Tomorrow's another Monday
and we just march to the beat of the drum.
We really think that someday's coming
but how can we ever know
when life flickers like a candle,
melts away like last year's snow?
When the future's so uncertain
and we're not learning from the past,
can you chastize me for thinking
none of this will ever last?
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September, 2006
Fall places a filter
over top the camera lens
and it slowly ends the summer
so that winter may begin.
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November, 2006
There are many people
along life's road,
and some you lose,
and some you hold.
And every one becomes a part
of who you are
and shares your heart.
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December, 2006
It's Christmas time in retail,
grumpy customers abound,
you're tired of Christmas carols,
and the snow that's on the ground;
you're fed up with screaming children
and their frazzled parents too;
you're overworked and underpaid
and your break's long overdue;
you're tired and you're hungry
and your shopping isn't done,
you're wond'ring who was dumb enough
to say Christmas is fun.
But come Christmas morning,
with all the ones you love,
none of this will matter
but the laughter, joy, and love.
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December, 2006
It�s hard to say when it started,
this friendship that we share,
but now it has I know for sure
that you are always there
to lend a hand or lend your ears,
or a tissue now and then;
to laugh or cry or comfort me,
time and time again.
And I hope that you too realize
I�ll do the same for you,
because I think we both know
that what we have is true:
A friend to last the ages,
through all that life may send,
and so today I wish for you
a Merry Christmas, friend.
Merry Christmas, Caitie.
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January 1, 2007
The flakes fall, thick and heavy,
as the countdown begins.
A toast:
to good and bad,
to moments passed and yet to come,
to friends and enemies,
to smiles and tears,
births and deaths,
beginnings and endings.
As the old year fades
and a new one begins
hope flickers, ever so slightly,
like the candles in the window
and keeps burning.
And with a little encouragement,
with joy, love, sadness, fear,
strength and perseverence,
it will keep burning,
always a little stronger than before.
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January, 2007
Blast these time zones,
curse the miles
that distance me
from my friends� smiles;
But bless computers, MSN
email on which I now depend
to keep them close, however far,
and deliver them the hugs I send.
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January, 2007
Look in the mirror,
tell me, what do you see?
A pretty young woman,
but that can�t be me.
She�s looking all grown up,
her hair up just so,
feels like playing dress up,
but no one will know
how that girl in the mirror
ain�t the girl that�s inside;
It�s all just a costume
where a little girl hides.
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Completed September 1, 2007
The faces of the ones you love,
and those you never knew;
the ones you�ve lost and those you�ve found,
the many and the very few:
The faces in the photo album
that will never change with time,
the moments and the memories
of the life that I call mine.
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Completed September 1, 2007
Too fast the seasons change,
the winds whisper �winter comes�
and herald lonely, snow-bound days,
leaving souls bereft and numb.
Too soon the leaves are earth-bound,
the nights bear hints of ice,
and bring the bitter winds of winter
that extract a chilling price.
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Completed September 1, 2007
The lazy spiral of a falling leaf
caught my eye this morning,
and as I watched it�s gentle dance
I thought of you
As I listened to the falling rain
and watched the foggy day turn gray,
until a ray of sunshine lit the sky,
I thought of you
As the day faded to night,
and the moon rose through the trees,
and the fire crackled,
I thought of you
I thought of you today
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Spring, 2007, Completed September 1, 2007
If I disappeared tomorrow,
would you notice I was gone?
Would you wonder where your friend went?
Would your life keep moving on?
If I disappeared tomorrow,
would your voice call out my name?
Would you realize what was missing,
or would it all just stay the same?
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June, 2007
There are those
I hate to look at,
that bring to mind
the darker days,
but read I must,
for they portray
the part of me
kept locked away.
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June, 2007
You walk with me in sunshine,
a true fair-weather friend,
but come the dark of sunset
alone I must descend;
No longer there beside me
I walk the darkened land,
no hope I�ll see the sunrise,
no light, no guiding hand.
You only have to tell me once.
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November 8, 2006
These winter nights are made for heartache,
time for demons of the mind;
Endless corridors of darkest night
through a never-ending labyrinth wind.