This, our precious planet,. Whose seasons I knew well,. Protects itself from us,. Outside the wind bellows,. And the rooftops quiver,. From weather now altered,. To voice a discontent,. The degree to which I,.

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Love is not just a physical attraction that can be manipulated. It is more like a bond between two people. It is finding the perfect companion.

Not only poets can see life in a grain of sand. I apologize for the recent long spell of inactivity but my college classes this year have just been pure hell. I will soon try to reply to all the comments that were last posted, as well as visit your blogs! January 27, 2011. The riumphed song of Fargle-Wargle rang into the night,. Wings in tatters outspread,. Thousand of burnt flags raised,.

Except when washed clean and revitalized. Even the rain is contradictory in my world. Even bad poetry is good, she tells me. Thanks to Jingles for the award. The title is in reference to this article.

I remember him well, His endless hands holding me, His sweet voice lulling me to sleep, His eyes promising me the world,. I remember him well, but most of all I remember those hands;. The hands of my protector. I remember him well, but most of all I remember those hands;. The hands of my disciplinarian. I remember him well, but most of all I remember those hands;.