

	Poetry	Search the Directory:

Because of You

You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares me. I never wanted to trust again that much I got hurt too badly the last time. I swore I'd never do it again, never let the trust out of my hands into someone elses.

And yet I've done it and now I'm afraid of what you will do with it, of what I'll do because of it.

My first instinct is, as always, to run, to hide, to protect myself from the hurt I know will come. I don't know when or how, just that it will, sometime.

I wanted to protect myself to build the walls around me but you wouldn't let me. You smashed bricks as I put them in place you refused to let me shut myself in, so now what? Where do I go now? I feel lost,defenceless, my hiding place is no more.

My walls are broken and I'm now afraid to rebuild the walls afraid I won't see you if I do or anyone else and I'm not sure if that's really what I want to do.

AT times it is. I want to shut myself away and hide, and yet I want to be out, to mix to talk to share. And I blame you for not letting me before shaking me up for refusing to let me retreat.

And yet I know that if I were not ready you could not have reached me no one could. I would have protected myself better I wouldn't have risked or grown.

I want to curse you and thank you at the same time. I want to laugh with delight at the things I've seen and found with you and cry in despair for what will not be.

You have opened me to be what, I'm not yet sure but I know that I am stronger because of you braver, because of you more, because of you.

Fran Watson "Expert Author" http://www.franwatson.ca http://www.mormunny4u.org http://www.diet-basics.org

MORE RESOURCES:

RELATED ARTICLES

Way of Life: Rhymes of the Inca [four poems: see in Spanish and English NOW!]
Way of Life: Rhymes of the IncaPizarro (Spanish conquistador ((1525))The blind follow the blind The dumb follow the fool But the cleaver, like 'Pizarro,' (who could not read or write) Followed human-nature? And ruled the Inca world!Thus, Atahualpa was Beheaded out of pride and Indolence-: one might say, And ignorance ruled? .Note: don Francisco Pizarro #689 5/27/05Cepeda the Sly [Lima, Perú-l546 AD]Cepeda the Sly-, judge With two sides; one false, One pride-both mixed with lies.

Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog
Emlyn Williams Theatre, Mold, North Wales: 20th February 2003Clwyd Theatr Cymru commemorated the 50th anniversary of the death of the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) with a superb run of performances by a small but accomplished cast of actors.Described in the programme as "A theatrical journey through the prose writing of Dylan Thomas", the production was created by Tim Baker, an Associate of the Royal National Theatre, who won the Manchester Evening News Best Visiting Production award in 1992 for the highly acclaimed To Kill a Mockingbird.

Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds [Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great eruption of Pompeii's nearby volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the heyday of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were mostly ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to imagine what the people went through (none, not one person survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its people were baked alive or asleep, like pottery.

Cruel World
Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go.

Stones
As I picked up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the stones looked like before they were polished. The store had several rocks on display showing the before and after and I realized that unless you knew what you were looking for, you could easily pass by a valuable gemstone.

Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Apoplectic Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their flaming nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!..

Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
In this modern age of technology, busy lifestyles, and obsession with consumerism have taken a lot of the romance and love out of our lives. The Internet has become a medium to connect with people as everyone is finding it a lot harder to meet one another in the 'real' world.

Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heat These bulky shaped jeeps Ride by house and farm City and barn-Hungry for Spring-again, hoping to avoid The Slipping and sliding Of winter's ice and wind?[s]Their weighty legs are dirty From moving dust and rain (Here and there, everywhere) Through all kinds of terrain Like moving clouds caught In the foliage of the woods? They never slow down a ting They have a duty, and give.It's part of how they live- In military-, bulky ole jeeps!.

Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic comment that just welled up inside my head - why cant we just do something - before many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.

The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were playing cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distance Was his sidekick, Corporal Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight This bully of six-foot-two Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI wanted to fight him too.

It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then.

Joined
JOINEDHeart beat of man pounding - yet unheard joined becomes the beat of a nation.Words of man written - yet unread joined becomes a proclamation.

Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the arctic night- In its deep northern skies, Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?! Even the stars of the arctic Seem silently stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo clutter the mind To entrench the throat; Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyes Eyes with cosmic tides Tides that never rest: they warWith the Universe- Likened to a dark deep abyss; Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and search In countless hours, ebbing and Sweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless- Are the cosmos, the heavens? Here resides a strange peace?Here, resides a strange peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, silently in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark; Time has no relevance here, Here, resides a strange, peace?Cold and oddly numb are my feet, As I look up, upon the many bridges One star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens were Guarding them-the Hosts- O-Yes! A strange, strange peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, blazing firmaments-ye, Ye, remind me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never rest Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeI hear music, harmony from afar (there) There are storms hidden in a storehouse, For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust; There, there the sun is dim to bleak.

Passion and Poetry, and Life
Ironically, the passion that can neutralize the repulsion for difficulties depends on the effort to overcome these difficulties. The irony resides in the circularity of this principle - which applies to all areas of activity, including poetry: One must make the effort to overcome difficulties to achieve success and feel capable, and one needs this achievement and feeling to have a passion for making this effort.

Opposites Do Attract Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.

Ode, to the Mighty Midget Omac [In English and Spanish]
Part One Midget HistoryI am thirty-six inches tall, that is all-Honest to god I am My hair is green, my eyes red, and IHave a very thick neckMy eyebrows are thin, and my beardHas three hairs? And I bore abuse, when I was youngYes! It happened to be; day by day??folks laugh at me, my appearanceYou see?I make them appalled. .

A Ship to Remember
Hammers. Timbers.

Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not learn! In his pomposity, his rhetoric With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has become enslaved By-them? By them all, he will fall. Ah! Yes-abstract concepts Bombast and rhetoric His intellect His cleverness This he leaves behind To his decedents!.

Three Poems: Dona Leonors Revenge; The Old Moon; Common Sides [All in Spanish/all in English]
1) Dońa Leonor's Revenge [1627 AD]Rafael Ortiz's fate Was on the plate Of Dońa Leonor'sWhen she arrived In Lima, Peru; To taste revengeFor the beheading Of her husband. And so the plot?was now played out (in an alleyway) As she gutted her trout!In SpanishTranslated by Nancy PenalozaLa leyenda de: La venganza de dońa Leonor (1627 después de cristo)El destino de Rafael Ortiz Estaba sobre el plato De dońa Leonor.

Since Youve Been Gone...
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to always bein a state of disarray..