Farewell

Two years younger than me,

Small bodied, blonde hair,

One big ear, one little.

Why'd you go? It's not fair.

We've had our ups and downs,

As kids, we have fought a lot.

You stood on your toes,

To be bigger than we thought.

You used to clench your fists,

Your arms snapped to your sides,

And you just stood your ground.

Against us older kids.

We've made you laugh,

We've made you cry.

We've hurt you by mistake,

Why did you have to die?

You have gone through a lot.

Operation after operation.

Tease after tease.

You deserve a standing ovation.

There were good times too.

The many class field trips.

The fun with old teachers,

The memories I'll never rip.

I remember how you cried,

Sometimes when you were sad,

Some of us would be there.

We would try and make you glad.

Why did you have to go now?

We'll pray for your family and you,

We miss you a lot already.

You were a good person, it's true.

You are in a better place.

Farewell, classmate.. and friend,

We will never forget you.

Your life is just about to begin.

Anxiety

This was written around March of 2009..

I have done everything,
All that could help me.
But, it is still there.
My heart wants to flee.

There seems to be no escape,
Claustrophobia takes over.
I can hardly breathe,
As if my body smothers.

I read, write and sing.
I dream, walk and run.
I shout, cry and whimper.
But it still burns like the sun.

I huddle in a corner,
Not knowing what to do.
I can't reveal my feelings.
I can't say, "I missed you."

If I say these words to him,
All will crumble between us.
My mask of not noticing.
It shouldn't be lifted, thus.

Maybe that isn't it.
Maybe it is school.
In my mind, I see this:
Homework, deep as a four foot pool.

And yet, not much homework.
I shouldn't be stressed.
But another thought comes,
The same recurring guess.

This guess is about something.
I guess I should continue.
Or maybe change it up a bit.
I shake at the future view.

Anxiety, which is misplaced.
It goes away at certain times,
It is a mystery to me.
I can't clear it, even with a rhyme.

Yes, I am feeling anxiety.
For what? May never know.
It won't leave sometimes.
I wish it will just go!

This is the fire,
Creating a mental pain.
I am doing everything.
Just to stay sane.

Endless

One could go all year without ever revealing their secret devotion to another.
One could get out and talk to the other and let a friendship grow.
One could hide from all the dangers and miss all the good things of life.
One could be with their family and loved ones and just let things flow.
One could be ignorant and stay that way all their life but find no satisfaction.
One could study and learn new things each day to see how things go.
One could ignore the signs of flirtation from another person and just move on.
One could open their eyes and find out that they like the other enough to tie the bow.
One could also notice the flirtations and just ignore it since they've already got another.
One could watch the moon and wonder what's on it.
One could fly on a rocket to the moon and find yourself on Pluto.
One could discover that these possibilities really are endless.

Every Wind

Every wind... Needs a forest.
To rush... All the leaves.
To morph... All the trees.


Every wind... Needs a mountain.
To move... the sand.
To change... the land.


Every soul... Needs a friend.
To carry them... To the end.
To cheer them up... When they're down.


Every soul... Needs some light.
To guide them through... When they're lost.
To show the truth... When it's hidden.


Every love... Conquers all.
To feel the joy... To feel the power!
You never know... 'Til it strikes you!


Every wind... Changes moods.
Of each season... Through each year.
Every wind... Lives forever.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, I gotta admit that I heard most of this in a dream.
I still wanted to post it though. Is the "..." too much?

Fast Forward

A child crawls underneath soft blankets,

Wraps herself into a safe little cocoon.

She giggles and curls into a tight ball,

Safe in her homemade womb.

As time passes by, she grows sore,

She emerges headfirst into the light,

The brightness shines on her face,

Opening up a whole new sight.

A child, she no longer is,

Now, filled with confusion, she’s a teen.

No longer able to hide in a cocoon,

Truly learning, now she is freed.

Life always catches up to the girl,

Making her fall back but gains strength.

She fights to keep living, unwilling to give up.

There’s a brighter light at the end of this length.

Emotions get the best of her,

Leaving her frustrated and wanting to scream.

But she learns to give it up, knowing it’ll pass.

It’s not as bad as it really seems.

Entering the twenties, life gets more twisted,

More influences get introduced to the girl,

Shields some and absorbs the rest.

Jobs, love and family, her third life.

A rose stands idly in a patch of daisies,

People pass by it, without a second glance.

Nobody plucks it, nobody spots it.

Nobody gives the rose a single chance.

The rose wilts and petals fall,

One by one, they fall to the ground.

Soar

Each time I pick up this guitar,

I experience a joy beyond measure.

I carefully pluck each string,

treating each sound like a treasure.

Gradually, I pick up the pace.

Speeding up, creating a melody.

Stumbling here and there, still learning.

While playing, I feel serenity.

I pick at more strings, tap a few beats,

changing techniques, and following my heart.

Exploration is my middle name, it's what I do.

This is something that can never be torn apart.

I may not know the chords,

I may not know the beats.

But what I do know is this,

This guitar is sweet.

I've moved from instrument to instrument,

I've done drums, piano, recorder and guitar.

I can't play most music, haven't gotten many lessons.

The recorder is the only one I really know so far.

I've visited the drums a few times,

Got the beat, learned the rhythm.

Although, I just can't truly feel it. It's not me.

But Ringo Starr certainly has it with him.

I know a few keys on the piano,

Can't play a true full song,

But I can sing while playing,

And yet it still feels wrong.

I've played the recorder as a child,

I have three years of practice as proof,

but sometimes it just feels like a chore.

The recorder doesn't make me feel very aloof.

So, here I sit, with this guitar, strumming notes.

I can play forever without knowing the time.

I just get mesmerized by the sweet sounds.

While playing, I've come up with this rhyme.

"As long as I play this guitar,

the world no longer matters to me.

It's just me and this wooden instrument.

Creating my own little melodies."

Sometimes I like to mimic other players,

Attempt to play their songs,

But I still don't know the notes,

I play by sound, but not for long.

Someday, I'll learn all the chords,

With more practice, I'm sure I can play.

This little wooden friend, this guitar,

It won't be going anywhere; it's here to stay.

The feeling is almost unexplainable.

Each time I play.. My spirit begins to soar.

Everything disappears; it's just me and this guitar.

That's what this poem is for.