I thought I would share with you some of my poems. I will apologize in advance if some of the wording sounds odd, English is my second language but yet oddly I write poetry in English... But here are two of them, I hope you will enjoy them.
Dear mom
Thirteen years are far too long.
I think of your favorite song
and I sit here this day,
thinking what would be the best to say.
I miss you, more then most know.
I remember the way your eyes used to glow.
Waking up each morning, to the smell of coffee and smoke,
there you sat, in your morning cloak.
One day I will paint, I'll paint you in blue.
For you are my sky, that will always be true.
I think of the days filled with happiness and smiles,
the way you made us feel, could be seen for miles.
The little things I wish I remembered,
the way you laughed, what you would have worn in December.
How it felt to fall a sleep next to you,
but one day I might have that breakthrough.
I have said this before, and I'll say it again.
You made everyday so, that there was always more to gain,
that, through thick and thin, to never give up.
Time has passed, and I´m now all grown up.
I might never remember the way you laughed,
or how you looked while doing your craft.
But I remember the way you always used to smile,
even though sometimes remembering that can take a while.
You will always be with me, here in my heart.
Even more so, the inspiration for my art.
For one day I will paint you, I'll paint you in blue.
But with this poem, I'll have to make due
for I'll never find the blue, as beautiful as you.
You are my sky, my sun and the moon.
For you are always there, even at noon
In every note I sing, I sing them for you.
For you inspired me greatly, that will always be true
With every song, with every painting,
with every brush and vocal training.
With every laugh, with every smile
and even with my own artistic style.
There you are, in every word I speak,
in every thought, in every technique.
The one thing I think is that I wish to make you proud.
Even from where you are, high in the clouds.
The Beauty of Pain
You toss and you turn, reaching out your hands.
All the horrors, relived in one night.
You wake up in sweat and tears.
It was a dream.
The past can not hurt you anymore...
Just pull up the covers and count to ten, just hide in the dark.
Like a scalpel to your skin,
the nightmares carve into your body.
Useless.
Filthy.
Damaged.
And the nightmare repeats itself,
clawing and eating at you till there is nothing left.
This has happened before, you know the score.
Soon, the insomnia like days will take over.
Forget everything.
Don't sleep.
They say those who have been hurt, know the beauty of pain.
As the nightmare repeats,
will I see the beauty of it?
Starved.
Beaten.
Hurt.
Gasping for air, entangled in your surroundings.
You feel the tears run down cheeks,
griping the sheets, your body trembles in fear.
The nightmare does not end, yet you only want to sleep.
Staring at nothing,
only wishing you would have woken up sooner.
The sweat turns to tears, as the tears turns to blood.
Everything is stripped,
leaving nothing but a raw emotion.
Fear.
