Friday, February 10, 2012

I, too, Blank

I, too, dislike it, the taxing nausea of writing a structured poem.
                It sends shiver down my spine.
When I write a poem, I get lost in between a rift of ability and non- ability.
                                I find my self facing an impasse with writers block as
I try with failing, frustrating attempts to put words down on a paper.
However much I dislike writing poem,
                Reading them is a complete different story.
When I read it is as if I were reading a book. With the same
                                Tingly, elated sensation of getting lost in the wonderful,
Mysterious pages of print.
When I get lost in those pages and words,
                Of emotion from the author and creator I am
Able to feel exactly what they want their reader to feel.
                                I experience those emotions of
Mystery, anger, joy or contentedness.

I, too, dislike the taxing nausea of writing a poem.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Sleep you are evil

My bed is a cloud,
Beautiful and velvety.
It is a furnace
Keeping me warm,
Throughout the night.
My bed is a prison
Trapping me,
With taunting’s of sleep

Friday, February 3, 2012

Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Learn to Begin and Remember

Learn to forgive, you can forget.
Learn to forget, you can trust.
Learn to trust, you can love.
Learn to love, you just need to begin.

Begin to forgive, you will forget.
Begin to forget, you will trust.
Begin to trust, you will love.
Begin to love, you just need to remember.

Remember, it's not easy to forgive.
Remember, it's not easy to forget.
Remember, it's not easy to trust.
Remember, it's not easy to love.