Mood:  happy

I wrote a poem, with the help of my poetic pet seal, Slone. (Did you know that the Russian word for "elephant" is pronounced "slone"?)

Motorcycles

Wasps of the highway,

Fleeting and swift.

If you can tame one,

Then you have a gift!

Mood:  a-ok

The fibers of the soul can be

A red fruit on an apple tree

(That'll never be eaten).

Peeling away.

Each layer much more insecure than the one before.

Peeling away.

And as I lie on down to bed,

I use (to think, of course) my head.

"Why can people see my insides very clearly once they've gotten through the outsides?"

I think.

Wait - is it possible for one to shrink

So quickly and see the frightening brink

Of one's mental exctintion?

Can I lose my sanity

After people have found my insides?!

How this can be?

My fibers (like an apple tree)

Are just as delicate as thee.

Or me,

Or he,

Or she!

The fibers of a soul are alone -

But they're not yearning for a mate.

Instead, they count on you

To make a crate

To hold them inside

Of yourself.

The fibers of a soul can be like that.

No need for a pat

On the backside,

But don't blame anybody, either.

Mood:  a-ok

    WHY DO I REMEMBER YOU?

I go to bed

To rest my head.

I make the bread

For sandwiches.

But why do I remember you?

You've never been THAT true.

But then again,

You helped me mend

My heart 

When it was leaking.

And you've also been there

When I baked my first eclair.

Or when fire ate my chair.

But what did I do for a-you?

I've never been so true.

Forgive me, please!          

            Leaking Hearts

Leaking hearts are hard to fix.

Oh, they can bend, and they can mix

Together with big lies.

So suddenly, so suddenly.

Your new bear isn't cuddly,

The wet lawn isn't puddly,

Your lil' siblings aren't fuddle-y,

So suddenly, so suddenly.

So what can fix a leaking heart?

Just eat a tart.

Well, that's a start!

Mood:  lazy

I wrote a poem, and I think it's a darn good one. So I posted it here.

brightly shines the moonlight on

my sleeping face

i dream of the times we had

but it fades away to fuzzyness

and i cry

i cry that i cant remember the times we had

so what will i do when youre gone

i think

what will i have to remember the times we had

just like the universe

coming and going coming and going

its fuzzy

i think it has a lonely unfriendly coldness

but what if theres hope

what if

hidden deep inside that coldness

there is a warm light that shines upon

the memories

that we still

but just barely

but still surely

behold in our hearts

if there were such thing

then id be glad

glad to know that the times we had

can still be acknowledged

by both of us