lalaru

A white house, not ornate, nor beautiful, Just a simple little white house; It stood like a crippled man, Leaning, and on its last leg; The familiar smell consisted of: Wet leaves, old dust, and spirits; The household is now just a memory With children running under mother\'s feet, And father yelling at mother and children. The sounds of the house radiated out Through the walls and the neighborhood. The sound was not of cheer, but of tragedy: An overpowering yell welled up over The sounds of muffled cries in pillows; Then it happened; like the man, The heart of the house collapsed to pieces. The sight, also just a memory, Wa

A work of pure plaster she had become, Beautiful as Pygmalion's masterpiece, but As deadly as Athena herself; He loved her, of what she was A mold, a creation of his own special treatment; Her beauty had been hidden long, Behind a mask of intelligence and fashion apathy. When their love had come to be, She changed for him; She became his angel, Drinking and tasting of what he had to give her. He gloated over her day in and out, But as all happenings do, things changed, She reclaimed her original form, Only for a few hours in the dead of night, Haunting him with her past Until it just near killed him. Guilt linger on till mor

In a few more minutes It will be another day A glorious time, For it will mark yet Another day of knowing you. My senses will be filled anew, As will my being, For with you, There is nothing to be Unhappy or depressed about, You and I are one, my love. And now as the day Rolls out and another in, All I know washes away As I calmly rest my head And I drift into another dream Of our love and an eternity together.

Eight of the clock, He was not home, But he would be at any time now, And in only one certain condition. It was a bad hour; The children knew what would come, And with no more than a suggestion, They stopped all work and play. A big light was dimmed down; Paperwork stuffed in all bags, With bags thrust sloppily out of the way; Two children prepared themselves for bed. The third and oldest child Took her place in the kitchen Preparing the foor for when he came home, While the mother waited by the door. Eight thirty... A screech of tires announced an arrival Slammed doors and and angry growl Told the oldest child he had enter

Poetry was always An art form I was never good at; Too little was to be said or given, However, now it\'s different. Though my technique hasn\'t changed, My outlook has Poetry is a form of writing Illusions, truth, fiction, history. There does not need to be A set standard, One can write little or Be verbose and write a lot. That\'s what makes poetry An interesting art form One of which I happily add to Despite my belief in my lack of talent thereof.

The Reaper will be there Again tonight as always, He will never change Despite my fervent prayers, Signifying my hopeless situation. I will be caught Yet again tonight as always before, Because, just like the man, There is no hope of escape left, Signifying the neglect of loss. The Grim, Death, will be there Again tonight in my dreams, A man he will always be, but In dreams taking another form: The form of false hopes and lost dreams.

Your compassion keeps me warm At the wee hours of the night, While knowing you I have rediscovered a Long lost friend....pleasant dreams. Nights were once a difficult time What with dreaming terrible dreams, However, now all that has Dissipated into warmth Thanks to your compassion. Now dreams once darkened By cold, unwelcomed thoughts and feelings Have become bright and cheerful An indicator of hope, not despair, And true happiness. But knowing when I lay my head down That your very presence will change My dreams from darkness to light Makes sleep an option once more And dreaming a hope-filled venture. It is all thanks t

Keep me near Keep me close Keep believing against all fear A world exists outside your own Keep Vigilant against harm A light will appear at the tunnel\'s end Keep a light burning Hope is there always Keep me close Here you shall find your solace.