A Small Tribute

Konnichiwa!

Imagine a life without words.... oh how stupid mankind would be...

How was everyone's Christmas? Mine went well, got a new book to read and some great movies to watch. :D On a side-note however, I am suffering the ever continous illness called Writer's Block. :( So I went searching for a poem to give to you guys. Thing was, I couldn't quite find a poem that matched how I felt at the moment. So, I simply had to get over this block long enough to put life into words. I hope you enjoy it!

I've searched all my life
for the ability to say I was happy.
Happiness.
Life's ultimate luxury.

Yet so few understand
what it is they truly have.
They use the word so loosely,
a fore gone conclusion it'll always be there.

Those of us who are too unlucky,
to claim the same right,
are banished as freaks.
Yet I'm not longer sad.

I have friends a plenty.
A goal set.
And a skill I'm good at.
I'm happy.

I have acheived my luxury.
Yet all it is,
is a shiny ruby.
Because I'm happy,
but still empty.
=================

So how'd you like it? Send to your comments to me or chris. And Happy Holidays!

~APLIW~

Quinton

End of the Week| Another Poem

Heather Baker, and My Obsession With Fire

I.

Life may keep us down.

We may continue to seek what we’ll never get,

But never forget that sometimes giving up isn’t an option.

Reasons are fears when we only imagine why we’re even here.

II.

“Just picture her face…

How she talks…

How she walks…”

I can see everything that she is,

Even if she barely knows me.

It’s sad, but

Sometimes I can’t help but feel

That such beauty begets something overwhelming.

My eyes can peer into the layers beneath the detestable mask

She lets others see so avidly.

Such eyes can see the aura that peeks out

From beneath them all.

It tells me that something special exists in her soul.

If only she would knowingly show me the depth that lay beneath,

But—

No—

I could never be so lucky.

All that's shown is the simple view

From far away

Of something that will fade more

As others bring about its decay.

“Just picture her face…

How she talks…”

All I see is

How she walks

So far away

From me.

~Alex

End of the Week| Random Poem

Tragically Mine,

I write endlessly on

Till my fingers start to bend and ache,

But what I feel isn’t pain.

No, it’s that feeling of being on a passenger plane,

All alone,

Awhile loneliness entreats upon the fragile air.

Can you hear the roar of the engine?

I can’t seem to focus away.

What should I do now that my life flies so solely?

There seems to be no answer to such questions.

~Alex A. Arlington